Peter Colt, an English tennis player in his thirties whose ranking slipped from 11th to 119th in the world, considers he never really had to fight for anything as his wealthy but all but close family easily put him through studies and allowed him to pursue his tennis ambitions, bravely exchanges jokes with his German sparring partner Dieter Prohl, in a similar position, but feels it's about time to admit he's getting too old to compete with fitter coming men (or boys) and intends, after a last Wimbledon, to take a job with the prestigious tennis club instead. Just then, by accident, he bumps into Lizzie Bradbury, the American rising star of female tennis, falls in love with her and finds her interest in him changes his entire perception, even gives him the strength to win again. But where will it lead them, especially when her overprotective father-manager Dennis Bradbury proves determined to nip their relationship in the bud, believing it detrimental to her career? Written by
On the day of the final, we hear the BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show DJ Chris Moyles announcing the match, however Moyles's show was Monday to Friday and the men's final is on Sunday. Similarly, the men's and women's semifinals are shown being played on adjacent outside courts, whereas in reality they would be played (a) on show courts and (b) on different days (normally Friday and Thursday respectively) unless there were sustained rain delays, which does not seem to have been the case. See more »
We all start off in life with a dream, don't we? For a tennis player, it's being in the final of a Grand Slam, Centre Court, a high lob... a smash. Game, set and match. You're a champion. You're number one. But for most tennis players, that's all it ever is: a dream. The reality is another story. My story. Now, you see that good-looking fella? No, no that kid in white, the other tired good-looking fella. Yeah, him. Well, that's me. British Davis Cup, long time ago. Two ...
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The friend I saw "Wimbledon" with joked that whoever wrote it must have googled "cliches" and then tossed every one of them in this sorry excuse for a romantic comedy. So banal it's offensive. Not even Paul Bettany's sexy overbite could save it. Its half-hearted effort at combining sports with a love story annoyed me to no end. Hardly a decent shot, let alone sequence, of any actual tennis play and dialog about the game amounted to such trite wisdom as "play through the pain." It appears the film makers targeted this film towards young women, assuming they'd identify with Kirsten Dunst. Sure...an arrogant, hothead trollop who'll give up her dream for a quick shag.
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