Blackball review

This limp British comedy arrives barely breathing onto our cinema screens, and not since Lee Evans' execrable The Martins a couple of years back has there been such an undistinguished and unfunny attempt at the genre. It's probably best to make sure there's a good pub near the cinema you are seeing it at, because you will definitely need a drink once the credits arrive.

However, fans of Paul Kaye and Johnny Vegas, and their idiosyncratic style of acting, may be in for a treat. On the one hand there is Kaye who simply has one expression, which is to sneer. And that's all he does through the film. Vegas on the other hand is perpetually cast as the mate who's a bit-of-a-laff and loves a pint. It's time that directors and producers wised up to the fact that Vegas is a bit of a one trick pony, and perhaps doesn't wash with the public quite as well as they think he does.

It must have been a wet afternoon down the pub when the idea for this film was conceived. In fact there was probably time left over to complete the whole screenplay as well. The big joke of the film is that Kaye is a champion crown green bowls player, but being from the wrong side of the tracks is unable to represent either his club or ultimately country.

What's more he's in love with the daughter of his arch rival (at least some class is brought to the occasion by James Cromwell), who connives to have him banned from the club and the game he loves. But when the two are forced to pair up against a couple of Aussie specialists, hatred turns to mutual respect.

The feeble quality of the jokes (with the notable exception of David Schneider's commentary of the big match), the shoddy production values and the slapdash approach to the whole thing signals an off-day for director Mel Smith (who had a worldwide smash with Bean and made the competent but overlooked High Heels and Low Lifes). He tries to liven things up with a cast that includes Vic Reeves and Vince Vaughan, but this is a lame affair that seems to realise it is in pretty dire straits early on and simply throws in the towel.

'Finally a sportsman Britain can be proud of' herald the posters, but sadly as far as the film is concerned, few will care to remember it.

Paul Hurley