The past couple of months have been quite educational, with respect to sport I’d never previously encountered: first adventure racing, in Arthur the King; and now the Homeless World Cup.
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| The bulk of England's Homeless World Cup team — from left, Jason (Sheyi Cole), Cal (Kit Young), Nathan (Callum Scott Howells), Kevin (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor) and Aldar (Robin Nazari) — watch with a blend of awe and disgust as their newest teammate struts his stuff. |
The playing field follows the rules of street soccer, on a pitch 72-by-52 feet (as opposed to international soccer’s 110-120 by 70-80 yards). The result is a faster, high-action and high-scoring format. Annual tournaments began in 2003, until canceled by Covid; they resumed in 2023, with that year’s World Cup held right here in Sacramento. (Would that I had known!)
Writer Frank Cottrell Boyce has been trying to get his script made into a film for more than a decade; this heartwarming little film helmed by director Thea Sharrock is the long-awaited result. (In a total change of pace, she also directed Wicked Little Letters, also reviewed this week.)
Boyce’s characters are entirely fictitious, but the environment in which they’re placed — notably, the ramp-up to World Cup play, and the challenges faced by typical participants — is rigorously accurate. As a cherry on top, many of the players in non-speaking roles are former Homeless World Cup participants, who now are no longer homeless.
The story begins as Mal Bradley (Bill Nighy) — a retired footballer, now manager of England’s Homeless team — readies players for his 12th shot at top position, with this year’s tournament to be played in Rome. The team includes Nathan (Callum Scott Howells), Cal (Kit Young), Jason (Sheyi Cole), Aldar (Robin Nazari) and Kevin (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor). As the film begins, Mal persuades a reluctant Vinny (Micheal Ward) to complete the half-dozen.
This doesn’t go over well with the others, who’ve bonded during (we assume) several preceding months. Living down to their worst expectations, Vinny has a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana, and clearly believes himself superior to the others (which proves true, but is beside the point). Worse yet, Vinny contemptuously feels no need to acknowledge that there’s no “I” in “team,” and he rebuffs efforts at kumbaya friendliness.
In short, he’s a horse’s ass.
