Review

Review Date: 22-January-06
Spoiler Rating: Medium
Juju Judgment: Juicy

Match Point (2005)

Even those not steeped in Woody Allen's oeuvre (like me) can see why some are calling "Match Point" a resurgence of the legend's talent. The artist's precision dominates every frame of this nasty little thriller and elevates it from a common airing of dirty laundry to something more grimly enticing. Relating the tale of Irish tennis pro Chris Wilton (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), who longs for the greener grass on the other side of the net, Allen contends that luck is merely the possession of money and privilege. There's nothing nice about this thesis or its argument: the characters are repellant, situations unsavory, and outcome shocking. (Some folks around me laughed, some shrank in their seats; I grunted in disgust.) Furthermore, Allen rubs our noses in the trappings of wealth until the stench is almost overpowering, taunting us with the fact that to some degree it's what we all want. Thus does he give "Match Point" its filthy brilliance.

The casting is as precise as the execution. Rhys Meyers, with his not-quite-human look of an attenuated Calvin Klein model, starts cool and grows more chilling as Chris' smugness increases. (No trace of Monty Clift's sweet befuddlement from "A Place in the Sun," whose wistful tragedy "Match Point" turns on its head.) As Chloe Hewett, his ticket to the British upper crust, Emily Mortimer says it all with a face that's instantly pathetic without being so unattractive as to remove her from the game. Her posh, country-manor existence wields its own brand of seduction, very different from the siren song conducted by Scarlett Johansson as Nola Rice, a wannabe actress from Colorado. In a standout performance, Johansson works her way through all the phases of being the other woman, from reluctance to surrender to challenge. Her character is the only one who isn't abhorrent, but lacking both standing and connection she's by far the weakest player on the court.

While the mechanics of the plot are not original, Allen lines up everything exactly so. The script is cleverly constructed if a tad long-winded, and several scenes (including the outsiders' first tryst in the rain) would merit the rewind button if I could stand to watch this movie again. His much-noted use of a London backdrop (as opposed to New York) allows for the signal contrast between lowly colonials and sophisticated Britons, expressed most eloquently in Nola's anger and Chloe's complacency. What looks embarrassingly vulgar when done by a have-not (drinking, dabbling in the arts, cheating on a fiancée/spouse, getting pregnant) appears frightfully well done when accomplished by the elite. After all, they're surrounded by opera and opulence, champagne and Chanel, limousines and lackeys — how could they possibly go wrong? According to Allen, they can't, and fortune favors the man who's able to keep his place in their world. Watching Chris attempt this is like contemplating a painting expertly executed in blood. It's not easy to avert your eyes or stem your admiration, but a certain degree of horror is involved.

Copyright © 2006 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.