“Nostalgia” is, famously, taken from a Greek word that refers to the pain from an old wound — the pang of the past. The good old days that are gone for good. The simpler time. The happy childhood. The days when a kid could still sing along with the “Be Like Mike” Gatorade commercial — Sometimes I dream/ That he is me… and thrill to the image of the basketball GOAT playing ball with a little kid on an outdoor court in some neighborhood park. You know, before things got...complicated. (You don’t have to have seen The Last Dance to know that Jordan is no longer the universally beloved figure he once was.) And nostalgia is the only reason I can think of to explain why old friends Ben Affleck and Matt Damon have reteamed for a movie that so artlessly sets out to make us love shoe company Nike for managing to butter up a college hoops star better than Adidas or Converse. (And it is artless, particularly in its brute-force “remember the ‘80s?” pop-culture montages and deeply on-the-nose soundtrack selections, but also in its stock camerawork from Robert Richardson, its muted energy, and its glib elisions — divorced dad Jason Bateman’s speech about how he doesn’t mind where Nike makes their shoes is nothing short of craven.) The paunchy Damon at least looks fully committed to the part of a smart sports guy whose job is on the line, and his sparring with Affleck’s Big Boss Phil Knight is enjoyable. And there’s some good talk about branding — about the athlete giving meaning to the shoe instead of the other way ‘round. But Ma Jordan’s (Viola Davis) speech about why her boy must be the first player to get a cut of every sale is savvy dressed up as profundity, just as Damon’s big pitch is flattery dressed up as wisdom — and a pre-emptive defense against criticism. (2023) — Matthew Lickona