Movie Review
Despite talented team, "Wimbledon" is no love match

By Tom Keogh
Special to The Seattle Times

LAURIE SPARHAM / UNIVERSAL STUDIOS American tennis champ Lizzie Bradbury (Kirsten Dunst) and low-ranked British player Peter Colt (Paul Bettany) fall in love in the romantic comedy "Wimbledon."

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The notion of Working Title Films — the British production company responsible for such glossy romantic comedies as "Four Weddings and a Funeral" and "Notting Hill" — having a go at the underdog/comeback-kid sports-movie genre has a definite appeal.

There are many good films about athletes, but specific stories about jocks whose careers are compromised by personal demons conjures the all-too-familiar Cinderella fantasy of "Rocky," the hard-sell mythmaking of "The Natural" and the breezy machismo of "Tin Cup." So it's nice to see Working Title apply its signature tone of skeptical sophistication to "Wimbledon's" version of an athlete poised for greatness but burdened by doubt and failure.

Sadly, the experiment doesn't work. Beyond leading man Paul Bettany's charismatic turn as a humble tennis pro disconcerted by unexpected triumphs during his final tournament, there's little to get excited about.

Bettany ("A Beautiful Mind") plays 30ish Peter Colt, a mediocre player marking his retirement with one last stab at Wimbledon and facing a dreary afterlife as a tennis instructor for lascivious older women.

Movie review Showtimes and trailer ** "Wimbledon," with Paul Bettany, Kirsten Dunst, Austin Nichols. Directed by Richard Loncraine, written by Adam Brooks, Mark Levin and Jennifer Flackett. 100 minutes. Rated PG-13 for language, sexuality and brief nudity. Several theaters.

After Peter stumbles into American tennis pro Lizzie Bradbury (Kirsten Dunst), the two commence a romance to mixed results. Like an Arthurian knight emboldened by a woman's attentions, Peter's playing grows stronger and more focused, and he climbs his way toward the championship match. Lizzie, however, becomes distracted on the court, and her watchful father (Sam Neill) keeps trying to shoo Peter away.

That's it in the conflict department, except for comic feuding in the Colt family and a climactic battle between the sweet-natured, aging Peter and a young schmuck (Austin Nichols). The latter sequence is thrillingly shot, edited and computer-tweaked to emphasize the intensity of player concentration, but nothing else that should make an audience truly care about Peter's destiny actually sticks to the movie screen.

Perhaps director Richard Loncraine ("Bellman and True") and seasoned writers Adam Brooks ("Bridget Jones' Diary") and husband-and-wife team Mark Levin and Jennifer Flackett ("Madeline") were trying to give Peter lighter, more ordinary challenges to face than those in, say, "The Natural."

The problem is there's not enough payoff when needed. Peter is a nice guy, but mostly unrevealed. We're supposed to see his soul through his love affair with Lizzie, and their relationship is supposed to be the driving force behind Peter's readiness for victory and life. But "Wimbledon's" romance is haphazard, poorly realized and bereft of nuance. Dunst is shrill and oddly disconnected from her character; perhaps there was nothing to lock onto.
 
"Wimbledon" is certainly pleasant, and cinematography by Darius Khondji ("The Panic Room") can make one love London the way Woody Allen can make one love New York. But beneath the surface, the film is an empty experience.

Tom Keogh: tomwkeogh@yahoo.com