"Wimbledon"

Paul Bettany and Kirsten Dunst prove they're real pros in this film about a mediocre tennis player who finds his confidence ... and his love match.

By Charles Taylor

Sep 17, 2004 | In "Wimbledon," as a professional tennis player whose self-assurance is shot after years spent on the bottom rungs of the professional rankings, Paul Bettany uses his character's crisis of confidence to deliver a smashingly assured performance. The 33-year-old Bettany gives a young man's version of an old pro's suavity. He's drily witty, fabulously sexy, and he's learned the trick of holding back enough to make you want more.

Peter is in his 30s and has been heading to Wimbledon for 13 years -- at this point, more as a matter of form than anything else. He never advances very far into the rankings, and as the movie opens, he has decided to trade in his competitive career after this year's tournament for a stint as the pro at a posh tennis club in the London suburbs.

"Wimbledon," which was written by Adam Brooks and the team of Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin, is about what happens when Peter regains some of his confidence and begins advancing toward the finals. A big part of the boost to his confidence is his affair with Lizzie Bradbury (Kirsten Dunst), an American player who's unapolagetically aggressive on the court but who wilts under the scrutiny of her coach-father (Sam Neill, bringing a light touch to a potentially overbearing role).

From the opening credits, where the titles appear to the thwock-thwock tick-tock of a tennis ball being hit back and forth, director Richard Loncraine keeps "Wimbledon" moving at a pleasingly swift place. The movie doesn't wait for Peter and Lizzie to fall in love before it lets them fall into bed (the beginning of their affair is presented as part of Lizzie's matter-of-factness).

Loncraine doesn't linger on potential groaners, like the trio of horny middle-aged women ogling Peter at the tennis club, and he gives just enough screen time to characters who could grow tiresome, like the snotty young American player (Austin Nichols) trying to bed Lizzie, or Peter's missing-in-action agent (Jon Favreau) who turns up when his client becomes hot again. Favreau gives the character just the right amount of sports-agent-galoot avarice, but the most welcome sight among the supporting cast is Eleanor Bron, as Peter's mother, who sails through the movie with the assurance of someone who's utterly content with who she is.

Loncraine's sense of pacing comes through best in the tennis scenes, where he's aided by Humphrey Dixon's sharp editing. Watching Peter advance through one round after another might have quickly grown repetitive. Loncraine and Dixon know just where to put the focus -- which is on Peter. There are moments here where Bettany is held in close-up, and the only sounds we hear are his interior monologue, which put us inside an athlete's head better than any movie since Robert Towne's "Personal Best."

As for the play itself, the movie whizzes through the matches, often just showing one essential point, or jumping ahead to the aftermath, telling us the outcome and moving on. Loncraine doesn't spend much time on any one match until the finale, and then he achieves genuine suspense. The cinematographer, Darius Khondji, shoots the tennis scenes in ways that put you close to the action, keeping it fluid and clear. There's none of the static feeling you get from watching the unmoving overhead shot of a match on television.

Next Page: Bettany's no Hugh Grant

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