THE BEAUTIFUL GAME - Mark Reviews Movies

The Beautiful Game, Netflix

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | March 28, 2024

The specific story of The Beautiful Game might not be a true one, but the event at its center is real. It's the Homeless World Cup, in which teams of unhoused people from all over the world participated in a soccer—yes, football for most of the world—tournament. There are winners, obviously, but the simple, lovely idea of director Thea Sharrock's film is that no one really loses. This may be a competition, but victory for the characters here comes in many forms.

The key one is a basic sense of self-worth. That's what Vinny (Micheal Ward), the central character, wants, even if he has become convinced he's undeserving of that feeling. The same could be said of his coach Mal (Bill Nighy), a former professional scout and soccer manager, who's still trying to figure out how to live after the death of his wife and only now comes to realize that his career probably led to more broken hearts than fulfilled dreams. As for the rest of Mal's team, they all want some kind of dignity, too, in their own ways and for their own reasons, but the film doesn't stop there.

Frank Cottrell Boyce's screenplay is surprisingly generous with the number of characters it includes, the stories it makes room for, and the sensation of unity among people who share this circumstantial uncertainty and the inherent certainty that they want and need to feel worthy of something again. It might be a sports story that adheres to a formula, but the heart of this film is elsewhere. It's in the humanity of the participants—from the players, who see this as a second chance at some kind of success and public platform to show they deserve respect, to the coaches, who do respect their team members beyond how well they play, to even the event's organizers, who welcome with open arms and know that this tournament is about much more which team wins.

Mal's team, representing England at the tournament, might be the main focus, but that doesn't make them more important than anyone else. We meet them first, as Mal discovers Vinny watching kids play soccer in a park, only to show off his own moves with gusto. The coach recruits him, but upon learning that it's for a team of people without a permanent residence, Vinny becomes defensive, denies that he's homeless, and insists that he has a job, a wife, and a kid. Some of this is true, except the most contentious part for Vinny, who's currently living out of his car, estranged from his wife, and having a difficult time being there for his daughter out of embarrassment or feeling like a failure or both of those things and more.

Vinny has a back story, of course, and his skills on the soccer pitch pretty much tell us what that is, even if the specifics are saved for later. It's actually a clever move on Boyce's part, especially since the other characters, both on the English team and among the other international teams, are just as important to this story as Vinny is. We may spend more time with Vinny than anyone else apart from Mal, but in making his history a bit of a mystery, our attention is immediately drawn to the characters whose stories are right there to see.

For example, Nathan (Callum Scott Howells), one of Vinny's teammates, is a former heroin user, currently being treated with methadone and not yet welcome in his family home until he proves the rehabilitation has worked. This might seem hopeless, but a tender surprise at the airport before the team leaves for the tournament in Rome firmly establishes how much this story is about hope and the necessity of supporting each other.

Vinny's other teammates include Syrian refugee Aldar (Robin Nazari), the socially timid Jason (Sheyi Cole), and Cal (Kit Young), who resents that the newcomer is a better player than him and regrets a life that has led him to having split custody with his child. Cal and Vinny clash, obviously, and while the rest of the team just want Vinny to be one of their own, he's still too stubborn and in denial to bond with them as a team.

Even before we learn all of this, the film spreads its perspective, giving us flashes of teams from South Africa, Japan, and the United States. On the last team, there's Rosita (Cristina Rodlo), an undocumented immigrant, brought to the country as a child, hoping to make her residency official by way of proving herself in the tournament. The Japanese squad is terrible on the pitch, but they learn there's more to this experience than the game. The South African team is late for unforeseen circumstances and managed by a Catholic nun named Protasia (Susan Wokoma), who's an expert at guilt-tripping and trash-talking with such kindness that she's done them before the targets even notice.

These may not be in-depth depictions of these characters and their stories, but it doesn't matter. When the matches begin, they're about more than just whether or not the English team continues, and in fact, their success could run counter to our sympathies for someone else or some other team we've gotten to know. The game means something here, beyond victory or defeat, because we're more invested in the stakes for these characters than the score.

That's the point, of course, of both the film and the real-life tournament—still on-going every year—that inspired it. The Beautiful Game gets at a level of basic humanity, decency, and respect—things that are often not afforded to the ignored or forgotten of society. In this case, that's all that matters.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products