Dreadful bore

Rating: 1/10 (18 January 2006)

Match Point is Woody Allen's latest offering. The director of such gems as Manhattan, Annie Hall, Zelig, Bullets over Broadway, and Hannah and Her Sisters has been the king of the American art-house film for decades. Sometimes his movies are poignant, and sometimes they're slapstick hilarity. This offal, however, never even hints at Allen's writing or directing abilities; indeed, it may as well have been directed by John Badham for all of the flavor and panache it expresses.
Even though the movie's appeared on many must-see lists as people gear up for the Oscar nominations, Match Point is a travesty of a sham of a mockery of an entertaining film. It's a longwinded load of dung. Nearly every scene is deadeningly dull, and the few that aren't are instead serve as perfect clichés.
Jonathan Rhys-Meyers plays Chris, a tennis pro who falls for Chloe, the daughter of a rich British family (the movie's set in London), played by Emily Mortimer. Chris' best pal is Tom (Matthew Goode), Chloe's sister. Rounding out the main quartet is American actress Nola (Scarlett Johansson), who's engaged to Tom. Wouldn't you know it, seconds after meeting Nola - after already being partnered with Chloe - Chris falls for the flaxen-haired lass, who's strong-willed and outspoken where her British counterparts are a little more complacent.
Can Chris keep his lust a secret from Tom and Chloe? And what of the parents, the richer-than-rich Eleanor (Penelope Wilton) and Alec (Brian Cox)? They dote on Chris, showering him with money and gifts and a job. How could Chris give all of that up to be with Nola? Several things work against the movie aside from the faceless direction and writing. For one thing, Chris is utterly unappealing. A protagonist certainly does not need to be likable, but there must be something about him or her that makes the audience want to see what happens to him or her. The appalling acting by Rhys-Meyers doesn't help matters at all; he's lifeless, utterly devoid of emotion. He can't even seem to conjure enough strength to show a good facial expression. He's a blank, a cipher no one wants to learn more about. Allen didn't write the character well at all, to make matters worse. It's a little too easy to figure out Chris' intentions, but his motivations are sometimes a mystery. And for goodness' sake, someone give this boy a spine transplant! How can a lead character be so terminally wishy washy? Of the supporting cast, only Johansson and Cox emerge unscathed. Cox is a veteran actor and could probably have played this role in his sleep, and Johansson is a rising star, capable of fantastic range. She was given very little to work with (her character doesn't really possess any unique traits), and it showed.
The pacing is mind numbing. I cannot tell you how many times I checked my watch to see how much time remained in the movie. It's plodding and aimless, certain to bore even the most rabid Merchant-Ivory fan, even though those masters had nothing to do with this one. Instead, we're given the vagrant stepchild of a true master American filmmaker. Allen would have been much better off removing his name from the credits for the pseudonymous Alan Smithee. Another annoying debit: Despite the title, tennis takes place for maybe three scenes.
If you're not a fanatic of tedious, overwrought melodramas, please adjust this rating down at least half a star.