Review: Wimbledon

Rated PG-13 | 100 mins

The day after Mr. 3000 force-fed me sports-movie clichés, Wimbledon elegantly served them at me. The likeable Paul Bettany and Kirsten Dunst play its two leads with terrific onscreen chemistry, crafting a funny and involving motion picture together, which actually had me engaged in convention for its entire running length.

Bettany plays Peter Colt, a tennis player who was once ranked eleventh in the world, but has now fallen past the one-hundred mark. He is competing in Wimbledon for the last time, ready to lose and then retire from the sport. This, unsurprisingly, acts as a queue for Dunst’s Lizzie Bradbury, a thriving newcomer in the sport, to enter his life. Before Peter’s match-up, he mistook his hotel room for Lizzie’s, only to find her completely naked and showering. Afterwards, they see each other again, and sparks fly. They develop a relationship against Lizzie’s father’s (Sam Neil’s) wishes; he fears that her attention will drift away from the game, as a result. And it does, but the romance allows Peter to be in his finest form. The movie leads up to the championship match at Wimbledon, in which he is in contention for the title.

The plot leaves much to be desired, but it has no impact on the charm of Wimbledon, fortunately. While writers Adam Brooks, Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin stick to normality, in their script, the three come up with some genuinely amusing dialogue. This is all perfectly delivered by the cast; Wimbledon does not have a single weak-spot, in terms of acting. Not only is Bettany a riot and Dunst lovable, but Sam Neill, Jon Favreau, Bernard Hill, and James McAvoy also put on spectacular shows of their own. Wimbledon announces itself on the heels of last years Love Actually, in that it is one of the few good romantic comedies of recent years. Both confide in their supporting casts, heavily, as a means of spicing their clichéd premises up. Does this fact and their apparent quality represent a coincidence? I think not.

A working knowledge of the game of tennis is crucial to respond to the experience that Wimbledon has to offer, fully. Its tense atmosphere relies a lot on score and players’ control over their games. Over the last year, I’ve found great liking in the sport, and perhaps that accounts for much of the reason why I was so welcoming towards this movie. However, I would still recommend Wimbledon to those who are novice tennis players; it is a treat even when the characters are off the court.

I’ve observed a trend in Hollywood, as of late, in which writers and directors feel the need to make their mainstream products more complex than necessary. Such a style, albeit more welcome, in my eyes, than standard, dumbed-down fare, only results in utter lameness. There is a reason why independent film exists: to correctly make motion pictures of higher intelligence levels than those of mainstream appeal. While I would love to attend more enriching films at my local multiplex than what I am able to, now, I don’t think it is the big-budget filmmaker’s place to make this happen. Wimbledon’s director, Richard Loncraine, realizes this. As a result, he creates a solid and enjoyable motion picture, which still has more emotional resonance than typical fluff. What more can I say? I liked it.