It is worth pondering how this film would play if we didn't know its eccentric protagonist was certain to triumph in the last reel. We might further ask how Richard Williams, father of Serena and Venus, would come across if a less charismatic, less charming and less stellar actor than Will Smith were playing the part.
Much of the film is taken up with ancillary characters telling Williams his scheme to transform the girls into the world’s greatest tennis players is deranged. A certain amount of this is racist and classist. Our protagonist bristles when one potential investor keeps praising the “incredible” job he has done. But the argument that the dream would be out of reach “even if you had all the money in the world” is not outrageous. Yet we know it happened. So we snort at the apostates.
Richard Williams, a man who lives on another planet to the word “no”, must have been exhausting to work with. Smith’s incarnation, brightened by that actor’s energetic suavity, is, in contrast, the most lovable class of nuisance. We learn he has a chequered romantic past. He arrogantly makes crucial decisions without consulting his wife or daughters. Who cares? Never mind King Richard; it’s the Fresh Prince. Reinaldo Marcus Green’s film – which rations setbacks to a trickle – gets its audience behind his majesty (or do I mean his royal highness?) from the opening minutes and never invites them to slacken in their support.
In short, this is a straight-edge, inspirational sporting film of the old school – closer to Rocky than Hoop Dreams. Taking all the inevitable compromises on board, it could hardly work better within its chosen parameters. Adopting Williams's hunched posture without giving into caricature, Smith works hard enough to deserve the Academy Award he will almost certainly receive. Aunjanue Ellis makes something more substantial than "long suffering" of his wife, Brandi Williams. Saniyya Sidney and Demi Singleton are touching as, respectively, Venus and Serena. The film doesn't go overboard on satirising the largely white world through which the family manoeuvres, but we get enough depressingly driven tennis moms – courtside Karens – to emphasise the wisdom of Richard's insistence that his charges live relatively normal lives.
The film’s cleverest wheeze is to end with a key early match whose result only the most fervent Venus supporter will recall. We know what ultimately became of these remarkable women, but we are still left with a period of agreeable nail-biting.
A cross-court winner.
Opens on November 19th
