One of the many great things about 1970s sports films is the irreverent way they treat the national anthem. In most of these movies, some poor singer or band has to struggle through our notoriously awful “Star-Spangled Banner” before the big game can start, every time giving the lie to the idea of an American people standing together as one.

While the song drags on, we generally see a montage of the players and the crowd, in a series of ragtag groupings, not at all united in the supposed land of the free and home of the brave. The shots remind us of all that has come before in terms of bitter tensions, working-class rage, racial hatred, gender hostility, the failing economy, and, often, the increasingly corrupt world of sports.

Check out the opening ten minutes of North Dallas Forty, featuring the agonizing, hobbling, groaning wake-up routine of an aging pro football player (Nick Nolte) as he gets his half-destroyed body moving by popping pain pills, guzzling beer, and smoking marijuana. In such contexts, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” with all its spurious glory, takes on even more discordant notes than usual.