The extraordinarily warm, Brendan Gleeson plays a homeless man, renamed Donald, living in his tumbledown shack in a hidden away part of the Heath. He has made a good life for himself.
Like all good film stories, of course it needs a love interest. The still incredibly beautiful Diane Keaton plays Emily, a widower who is looking for a second chance at love before it’s too late. She finds no luck dating guys in her picture-book North-London neighborhood, until one day when she looks out her window and sees Donald.
They must work together to save Donald’s lifestyle from being taken away by ‘the man’ who wants to build luxury apartments on the land. Along the way, Donald must learn that he can’t do it by himself and Emily must learn to live without the luxuries of Hampstead living.
“Diane Keaton’s forte, her distinctively nervous, awkward charm, has worn beautifully in an astonishingly long reign as a rom-com queen.” (Empire)
Inspired by the amazing true story of Harry Hallowes, a homeless man who after 20 years of squatting on the fringes of Hampstead Heath was…? Mixed reviews, so come and see…
Christopher Nolan’s meticulous masterpiece is an exercise in clock-work tension and staggering visual spectacle.
Save for an opening paragraph, the politics of war are all but jettisoned as we cut right to the chase, telling a lean tale of survival against all odds. Told from three perspectives (air, sea, land) and intertwining timeframes (one hour, one day, one week) Nolan drops you in the heat of battle and never lets up. It means that the story itself is a little light, making it difficult to connect with our heroes on an emotional level (the Germans, too, are reduced to an intimidating, spectral presence), but that's because Dunkirk is going for a tangible experience; the sea air, sand and shrapnel can all be felt; it helps ground the film in a reality not many other films can match.
It's frighteningly immersive from the very first frame; no 3D required here, just ambitious shooting techniques (high-tech cameras strapped to real Spitfires!) and a score by Hans Zimmer that's so intense, so relentless, it'll cause genuine shell shock that'll linger for days. (Jack Whiting) It might be over hyped, over starry and over here. But it’s well directed and looks and sounds very real.
Sally Hawkins artfully brings the achingly true story of 30’s folk artist Maud Lewis to life in Aisling Walsh’s gentle biopic.
Maud, a naive thirty-something spinster, saddled with arthritis and a bleak future sees her modest life take an unprecedented turn when she meets gruff, old-fashioned bachelor Everett Lewis (Ethan Hawke).
In between her household chores, Maud fills postcards and other scraps with her charmingly unsophisticated paintings of birds, flowers and other basic subjects. When one of Everett’s fishmonger customers with an eye for art and sympathy for a working woman offers to buy a few of them, Maud and Everett find themselves at the helm of a fledgling business.
The ever-versatile Hawkins crafts a beautiful spirit from an increasingly twisted role, capturing the unjust existence of a simple woman who longs for simplicity. Hawke similarly gives his all and both act as an example of an artist at work.
A portrait of a woman in thrall to art and nature. Infectious and inspiring.
“As unassuming and gentle as its subject, Maudie breaks your heart with its infectious positivity and an outstanding Sally Hawkins.” (Time Out) (research Chris Coetsee) Sounds and looks fantastic. Come.
Even when director Bruno Dumont is doing funny, you need to be prepared for a bunch of people to be killed, chopped up into tiny pieces, and fed to children.
Stick with me. Slack Bay is a very surreal black comedy set in the picture-esque French countryside during the summer of 1910. It is a mystery that isn't especially mysterious, and a comedy that isn't all that funny. This seems to be a deliberate strategy rather than a failure of imagination.
Shortly before World War I, haute bourgois André Van Peteghem (Fabrice Luchini) arrives at the title’s location on the Normandy coast with wife Isabelle (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi) and sister Aude (Juliette Binoche) just as rotund police inspector Machin (Didier Després) is summoned to investigate a spate of mysterious disappearances.
This vicious dissection of the French class system carries echoes of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Delicatessen, although plenty of pratfalls and slapstick business have been imported from Laurel and Hardy, Monty Python and the Clouseau movies. A very odd allsorts indeed. (research Jack Whiting)
A consensus: if you can’t get Shane Black (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, The Nice Guys) to write smart dialogue for your buddy-cop comedy, just go loud and silly.
Luckily for The Hitman's Bodyguard, the combined comedy force of Samuel L. Jackson and Ryan Reynolds makes for a winning formula. Simple: Jackson plays Darius the hitman, Reynolds, Michael his bodyguard. They need to get from London to The Hague without getting killed. Uh oh! There’s an inexhaustible, army of Belarusian mercenaries doing all kinds to rub them out enroute, eg: firing bazookas down Amsterdam canals, all to prevent Darius from testifying against genocidal warlord Vladislav Dukhovich (Gary Oldman on his day off).
It's a good thing their banter works. The script is, after all, tailor made to suit this odd-couple well. The rest is so over-the-top, the only way is to play along. It’s Tom & Jerry, where Jackson can take a bullet, extract it himself there and then and jump off a roof without even an apologetic limp. (research Jack Whiting) Turn an otherwise dull Weight-Watchers/Gym, evening into a fun September Thursday Rex night out. Ditch wasted carnal-free sweat. Come and sit, be absolved/absorbed. Drink and laugh for an hour or so…
It's been over a decade since Tom Cruise headlined a movie like this. One which isn't beholden to franchise expectations, but one where his charm can actually become the crux of the tale.
‘Based On A True Lie’, American Made is a biographical comedy about a pilot, Barry Seal (Tom Cruise). Barry is a bit like UPS for illicit cargo; if it absolutely has to get there overnight and it’s illegal, Barry is your guy. He doesn't care much about what he's transporting, whether it be guns for the CIA, or drugs for the cartel. He's extremely reliable, and who doesn’t like/want/need reliability?
Involvement in a CIA scheme then turns Barry into a smuggler, informant, patriot and one of the richest men in 1980s America, running crates of AK-47s and kilos of cocaine, which also happens to cement him as a key figure in the Iran-contra affair.
Fab director Doug Liman, who is just as comfortable handling the indie gems (Go, Swingers) as he is with the big hitters (Bourne Identity, Edge of Tomorrow) is the perfect candidate to tell this story with just the right level of irreverence. (research Jack Whiting) Good words on Tom and Doug. Well said, Jack.
I've never even heard of the first Nutjob, yet here we are, round two. The squirrels are back in this sequel to a film no one remembers.
The purple-coated Surly (voiced by Will Arnett) is still leading the squirrels but they’ve become lazy, spoilt and fat. Rather than gathering nuts in the park and storing them for winter, they’ve been relying on supplies they’ve found in an abandoned “Nut Shop”.
The obese and creepy mayor has plans to turn their park into a gigantic fairground. When the Nut Shop explodes, the little bushy-tailed rodents are faced with starvation. Sully’s attempts to find popcorn and doughnuts come to nothing and he makes an enemy of Mr Feng (Jackie Chan) the cute looking but vicious leader of the city’s Kung-Fu-kicking street mice. When Feng and his army go on the warpath, the filmmakers throw in fun puns eg: ‘weapons of mouse destruction…!’
It's enough to give adults a severe nut (job) allergy, but as a 91 minute distraction for little ones, you could do a lot worse... The Emoji Movie - worse!! (research Jack Whiting)
Mercifully short, and it might rain that day.
Geoffrey Rush’s buoyant performance as painter and sculptor Alberto Giacometti brings colour to Stanley Tucci’s delightfully playful look at the life of the Swiss painter.
Set in Paris of 1964, and seen through the eyes of American writer James Lord (Armie Hammer), hours turn to days as the faultlessly polite Lord has the fortune and then the misfortune of posing for Giacometti’s latest portrait.
Becoming slave to the whims of a creator wracked with self-doubt, Lord is also witness to Giacometti's turbulent personal life, befriending his hard-done-by wife Annette, his devoted brother Diego and his manic mistress Caroline (Clémence Poésy). Optimistic and patient at first, he eventually concedes, taking to other means to relieve the physical and psychological strain.
An entertaining examination of the shifting dynamic between artist and subject, Final Portrait plays like a farce, beautifully shot but drained of colour to fit Giacometti's sombre visual style. Constant wit and a jaunty score also keep this more than afloat, acting as a breath of fresh air in quagmire of artist biopics.
“There's a lot to dig into here - and Geoffrey Rush hasn't had a showcase this good in years.” (Empire) (research Chris Coetsee) Low key and not to be missed.
Klapisch charms his audience by offering a relatable and bittersweet familial melodrama accompanied by gallons of wine. Amidst the exquisite vineyards of Burgundy, domestic troubles arise when a brooding Jean (Pio Marmai) returns to the family winery where his father is fatally ill; an arrival that follows a mysterious decade of absence. Awaiting with resentment and a barrage of questions about Jean's failure to return despite the death of his mother, are his siblings Juliette and Jérémie. The rivalry is not unrelenting however, moments of camarederie among the trio bring heatwarming testimony to the strength at the core of the family. To rekindle bonds, the siblings must be willing to cast aside grudges and get to know each other as the adults they have become, not the children they remember. The result of the narrative is an atonal undercurrent of nostalgia that runs throughout the feature. 'Back to Burgundy' offers a sentimental reminder of the importance of family, the fleeting nature of childhood, and the rediscovery of lost innocence. "All crumbly rustic quaintness and buttery sunsets, it’s the kind of movie you’ll want to slather on a baguette." (Times) (research Grace Atkins) Gathering, renewing and pressing… Come and sip.
The 'doomed romance by way of illness’ sub-genre receives a welcome entry in this largely improvised comedy.
Starring Kumail Nanjiani, and based on his true-life experiences with writer Emily Gordon (whom he is now married to). The Big Sick sees Kumail, a version of his younger self – a part-time Uber driver and wannabe standup star, cracking gags from his perch somewhere along the spectrum of comedy geekiness. Emily (Zoe Kazan) starts off by heckling Kumail during his standup and winds up having a romance with him. Kazan combines her doe-eyed and rather cherubic beauty with a plausible mix of intelligence and vulnerability. The film takes a sharp turn when Emily succumbs to an unknown illness and spends the second act in a coma. Kumail then has the unenviable task of bonding with her oddball parents Holly Hunter and Ray Romano.
Audiences have grown (I hope) smarter to the ways of the traditional rom-com (overly twee scenarios, forced and unrealistic exchanges) so it's up to these more natural stories to fly the flag. Thank goodness then that this one is heartfelt and genuine. (Jack Whiting) Improvised and autobiographical, so beware.
I'm not sure rave reviews or awards talk are enough to express the amplitude Kathryn Bigelow achieves in this combustible recreation of one-of America's darkest chapters.
Detroit Michigan 1967. In the heat of the 12th Street uprising a task-force raids a flop-house Motel ‘searching for a sniper’. When they fail to find him, those trapped there are subjected to a horrifying storm of atrocities. One of the hate fuelled officers is played by Will Poulter, evolving from feral, cheeky child in The Rex’s Son of Rambow to cinematic villain of the year. Bigelow and writer Mark Boal's account takes a snapshot of the incident and twists it into a taught horror.
Bigelow approaches Detroit with the same ferocious intensity as her Hurtlocker, and Nolan’s Dunkirk. By placing you in the moment, you watch it in a fever, scalded by sequences that are hard to endure and impossible to ignore. It has the adrenaline punch of a thriller and the deep-seated sorrow that comes with watching history repeat itself. Unflinching and terrifyingly pertinent, Detroit is unmissable cinema. (research Jack Whiting)
“No comforting social-protest drama. Closer to a hair-trigger historical nightmare.” (Variety) Likely to happen over and over - until...? Don’t miss.
We knew he wouldn’t stay away for long. Thankfully, Steven Soderbergh comes out of TV retirement with a literal bang in this riotous crime caper.
Rogue charmer Jimmy Logan (Channing Tatum) is a West Virginia country boy who's just lost a construction gig due to a football injury that left him with a limp. Jimmy drowns his sorrows at a roadside bar run by his brother Clyde (Adam Driver, a deadpan delight) a war vet whose souvenir from Iraq is a prosthetic lower left arm. The siblings hatch a plan to rob the Charlotte Motor Speedway in North Carolina on Memorial Day weekend. Having worked the track's underground, Jimmy knows that's where the money is funnelled. For professional help, the Logans turn to an explosives expert aptly named Joe Bang – played by an off-the-chain hilarious Daniel Craig, complete with a blond buzzcut and hillbilly twang.
Soderbergh’s return is a safe one, sure – riffing on his own Ocean’s Eleven formula. Hardly original but the attention to the smallest detail is what makes this heist flick outstanding, adding yet another hit to his versatile resume. Welcome back to the big screen Mr Soderbergh, where you belong. (research Jack Whiting) Wit-sharp. Don’t miss.
The title of this wacky farce says it all really. What is surprising, in a market stuffed with convoluted 'kids' films - is just how welcome its simplicity is.
The film, based on Dav Pilkey’s book series, is about two friends, George (Kevin Hart) and Harold (Thomas Middleditch) who spend their spare time pulling pranks and creating D.I.Y. comic books about Captain Underpants, a superhero whose outfit boldly acknowledges that many superhero costumes are in fact little more than fancy undies.
The boys’ nemesis is Mr. Krupp (Ed Helms) the school principal. You know he's mean when he has a sign on his desk that reads ‘Hope dies here’. When the boys hypnotise him, he turns into the said Y-fronted super-hero and the story goes into overdrive, with the Captain becoming the world’s defence against the evil Professor Poopypants (Nick Kroll).
If names like Professor Poopypants elicit even the slightest smirk (I'm not just talking about kids) then this is a no-brainer. Your inner 5 year old will dig it. (research Jack Whiting) But to be on the safe side, bring an outer 5yr old with you. So fab, it made the August front cover.
Make no mistake, Baby Driver is pure cinema. To miss this thrill-ride on our screen is to do a disservice to you, the audience and to pure imaginative and adrenalin fuelled film making itself.
Edgar Wright, one of the few true, and the only British, auteurs in cinema, has fine-tuned his passion project to within an inch of its lense. Every edit, every stunt, every rhythmically timed sequence is meticulously planned and executed. His visual flair is his trademark and his eschewing digital to shoot on 35/70mm film stock is his weapon of choice.
Baby-faced Ansel Elgort is behind the wheel as Baby, the getaway driver working for Kevin Spacey. His struggle with tinnitus means he's plugged into his iPod 24/7. For him that means chauffeuring crooks (including Jon Hamm and Jamie Foxx) to and from banks to hi-octane backdrop of classic pop. For us this means car chases and shootouts to the beat of the music. It's a unique big screen experience indeed.
Wright has taken 1978's The Driver, Blues Brothers and, funnily enough, La La Land and put them in the grinder. This slick motor is the result. (research Jack Whiting) Fantastic. Don’t miss a beat.
Lambert Wilson stars alongside Audrey Tatou as legendary scuba inventor-explorer and deep-sea documenter Jacques Cousteau.
Based on the non-fictional Capitaine de La Calypso by Albert Falco (Jacques longest serving diving companion) and Yves Paccalet, The Odyssey floats along the surface of Cousteau’s exploits, offering an episodic glimpse into his busy life.
Leaving the French Navy in 1949, Cousteau finds fame in the 1960s through introducing worldwide audiences to the unseen wonders of the ocean. But as celebrity status, financial insecurities and his frequent infidelities take their toll, relations with wife Simone start to fray, just as simmering tensions with son Philippe (Pierre Niney) begin to rise.
Interspersed with old footage and stunning underwater photography, The Odyssey is at its best when it dives beneath the surface, capturing a world that Cousteau made his own.
“Lambert Wilson is convincing as the subaquatic pioneer, playing him from his buccaneering prime in the Fifties and Sixties to his later years as a converted conservationist” (Times)
“The Odyssey induces the same sense of wonder as Cousteau’s TV documentaries. There is stirring footage here of storms at sea and divers surrounded by sharks.” (Independent) (research Chris Coetsee) Jerome Salle’s film fathoms the wonder and beauty of the sea that entranced Cousteau so.
The cobbled means streets of the East-End run a familiar red in this pre-Ripper gothic mystery.
Implacable Inspector Kildare (Bill Nighy) is brought back into the London fold to investigate a series of gruesome killings attributed to a figure known only as The Limehouse Golem.
When famous music hall performer Elizabeth Cree (Olivia Cooke) is arrested on suspicion of murdering her husband, the two cross paths. Elizabeth, facing the death penalty even as she maintains her innocence, believes there may be a connection between her deceased partner and the case.
Driven by duty, Kildare becomes obsessed with uncovering the identity of the Golem and saving an innocent woman from the hangman’s noose.
Previously intended to star the late Alan Rickman (to whom this film is dedicated) Bill Nighy is typically excellent as the afflicted and flawed detective. There are also a host of impressive supporting performances amidst the sleuthing but it’s Olivia Cooke who walks away it as the richly layered Elizabeth.
“The legend of Jack the Ripper still looms heavy, but the spectre of his possible predecessor haunts this entertaining penny dreadful-style thriller.” (Time Out) (Research Chris Coetsee) Fantastic. The one face of Bill Nigh playing an Inspector Wardrobe. Come.
Here it’s not quite winter yet but a Native American reservation, high in the bone-white Wyoming wilderness, provides the backdrop to Taylor Sheridan’s chilly noir.
And like many noirs, it begins with the disturbing sight of a body discovered frozen in the snow. The finder is Cory Lambert (Jeremy Renner), a wildlife officer charged with hunting down animal predators, such as wolves and mountain lions. Instead, he finds the victim of a rape and murder. An F.B.I. agent named Jane Banner (Elizabeth Olsen) is called in from Las Vegas to investigate. The two lock horns immediately. He knows the land and understands the people who live there in poverty and racial strife; she does not. The conflict is established and the hunt for the killer is on.
Sheridan has proved himself a formidable screenwriter of high-calibre thrillers (some of the best in recent years) with such heavyweight hitters as Sicario and Hell or High Water (this too carries a Western vibe). Here he takes a role behind the camera, and while it may lack directorial flair, the twisting narrative is easily strong enough to hold its own. (Jack Whiting) Come. You’ll be glad you did.
The sacred and the secular dance together in Shubhashish Bhutiani’s impressive debut feature.
Presenting itself as a tale of life and death, Hotel Salvation questions the moment when physical existence reaches an end and a spiritual dimension opens.
Representing an older, almost timeless world is 77 year old Daya (Lalit Behl), living his life out peacefully with his family, his wife, daughter and son Rajiv (Adil Hussain). In contrast, the world of the younger generation is anchored in the stressed routines of the daily grind, particularly for Rajiv, who regularly feels the pressures of office deadlines and mounting paperwork.
When Daya announces to his family that he wishes to make a final pilgrimage to the holy city of Varanasi, Rajiv is granted permission from work to accompany his father. So the two check in at the titular Hotel, run by the eccentric Mishraji, a mystic who believes that he knows when each of his residents will die.
As they both come to terms with what lies ahead, the enduring father-son relationship offers an incisive perspective on not only the values of contemporary India but also a perspective on eternity. (Research Chris Coetsee). Beautifully paced. Come.
On paper, The Villainess sounds like derivative junk - and it sort of is - but no junk is handled with such panache, with such a slick personality. More to the point, it is fun!
The whole thing is built from almost nothing but with great shots, flabbergasting stunts and mad narrative curlicues, all working hand-in-hand to maximise audience delight. Unfortunately, things aren’t so simple for our heroine Sook-hee (Kim Ok-bin). For one thing, she’s pregnant with her dead husband’s baby when we meet her, and still a bit shaken up that he was killed on their honeymoon. For another, the babyfaced charmer who lives in Sook-hee’s apartment building is actually keeping tabs on her for the Korean Intelligence Agency. But things don’t really get twisted for our girl until she starts to suspect that her dead spouse may not be so dead after all.
There’s an incredible motorcycle fight with swords that has to be seen to be believed, then there’s a car chase that builds to some passenger seat ballet on par with the best of Baby Driver. It’s quite possible the craziest thing put to film this year. (research Jack Whiting). South Koreans! who’d pick a fight with them…
Like its squad of pint-sized, crime-fighting underdogs, The Jungle Bunch (Les as de la Jungle) is, in its own way, a sort of cartoon David taking on the Goliaths of Hollywood animation.
The main villain is a koala bear called Igor who is an expert at causing explosions. The hero is a penguin called Maurice who is under the illusion that he is a tiger and likes to paint stripes on himself. His son is a little fish.
For reasons only partly explained, Igor is determined to destroy the jungle. When his first attempt at setting the trees on fire is nearly successful, he is banished to a desert island but he escapes back to the mainland with a metronomic crab as his new accomplice.
The Jungle Bunch is a Saturday morning cartoon stretched to feature length, and is, as you can tell, about as sophisticated as its animation, yet there’s a sincerity to it, and some of its more, shall we say surrealist, elements and off the wall humour will keep adults in their seats. (Jack Whiting)
The late Tony Scott, Ridley’s brother, was a great adventure film maker. One of the best and least precious: Days of Thunder, True Romance, Enemy of The State…
Deciding on an uplifting film to fly us into the autumn we came up with this schmaltzy, macho, homo-erotic, gung-ho fluff, now a timeless big screen classic adventure yarn. We looked through the best, entertaining, funny, heart warming, family all-round repeats of our last fourteen years and Tom Gun won the day. We should show it every year!
We have screened it in 70mm now it’s boasting this fab digital re-mastering which claims the detail on the big screen will be crystal clear and the sound full to bursting (apart from macho mumbling) so let’s see. Don’t you think it would have had a real mischief edge, if Tom had been called Goose?
It is feel-good enough to send you off with a happy ending, to pick a fight with sailors on the way home.
Come and have the ‘time of your life’ with us again… 31 years later.
Wow… thirty one years on and Tom looks better than ever and still riding a bike at 120 mph+ without a hat.
On September 5th 1977, the twin probes Voyager I&II were launched to gather information from deep space. "The Farthest" documents NASA's mission that continues to prove, beyond all expectation, to be extremely influential. The machines were primarily intended to collect data from Neptune, Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter. But they continued on into vast, deep, forbidden Space. No stopping them, barring accidents, they are set to keep going for billions of years, even when our sun has become a Red Giant. To put the vastness of such a mission into perspective… in all likelihood, the machines will outlive humanity. Contained inside the crafts lies a Golden Record with images of life on Earth should Voyager be discovered by extraterrestrial life. The importance of the records is chillingly: “It could in the long run, be the only evidence that we ever existed.” (upto 1977? Fantastic! No 80’s music survives). The awe-inspiring scale of the Voyager mission is documented in all it's beauty and intellectual ambition, precariously balancing what we know, think we know and don’t. So too The Farthest doesn't shy from the oldest question on Earth. Are we alone…? Come in God your time’s up.
This is a Stephen Frears take on the story of Victoria playing her Empress of India card. In the late 1880s she is said to have enjoyed the company of a tall, handsome Munshi: Abdul Karim. This is a flake of that yarn.
All you need to know: Judi Dench is Victoria with Eddie Izzard as the vexed Bertie (son & heir to become Edward VII) and the gorgeous Michael Gambon all supporting Ali Fazal as Abdul…. It is set in sunny breathtaking Scottish, English, Indian countryside and Osborne House Victoria’s own home on the IOW.
So come, lap it up and take the parts you like and believe what you think best. It’s the pictures, come and wallow in the majestic fantasy of it all…
Much more than horror for the sake it, Andy Muschietti’s take on Stephen King’s monster tome is a crowd-pleasing fright-fest.
This long overdue big-screen update is also a beautifully crafted love letter to coming-of-age dramas of the eighties - The Goonies, King’s Own, Stand by Me are clear influences, that just so happens to star a child eating clown. IT begins in 1988 and poor little Georgie Denbrough is dragged into a storm drain by the evil Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård, ably filling Tim Curry’s clown shoes).
As the summer vacation of ’89 rolls around, and as yet more youngsters disappear, Georgie’s older brother Bill (Jaeden Lieberher) and his band of variously bullied ‘losers’ embark upon a quest through the woods and into the sewers, in search of It...
In typical King fashion, there’s so much more at play here than a creepy circus performer: from abusive parents (grownups are the enemy here) tackling adolescence, and being a social outcast. It’s a sweet-natured, and surprisingly funny drama. So if IT does manage to scare you, at least you’ll care. (research Jack Whiting) Not so contrived and a lot more fun than Mother! Skarsgård’s scary clown face is the New scary clown-face.
Sverrir Gudnason and Shia LaBeouf swap centre-stage for centre-court in this prickly account of tennis’ most famous rivalry.
It’s June 1980 and the Wimbledon Championships are set to begin for the 94th time. Coming into the tournament, Björn Borg (Gudnason) is the king of the court and a cold-blooded winning machine. With four straight Wimbledon titles under his belt, he just needs one more to break the record.
By contrast, John McEnroe (LaBeouf) is the rising star, full of hunger and ready to take his spot at the height of the tennis world. Whilst seeking the same respect and admiration for his undeniable talent that his rival receives, Mac’s abrasive behavior routinely works against him.
With the two destined to meet in one of the greatest finals of all time, there can be only one true champion.
LaBeouf’s rage-fueled antics are worth the ticket price alone, brilliantly portraying McEnroe as a ticking time bomb, capturing the manic outbursts that made him a pantomime villain on-court. Yet it’s Gudnason’s Borg who remains the primary focus, accurately showcasing a player for whom the spotlight has become a burden and the ever-increasing expectations to succeed almost intolerable. (Research Chris Coetsee) Why…? But a fantastic Borg.