An ailing baseball scout in his twilight years takes his daughter along for one last recruiting trip.
I do hope Trouble With The Curve is not [Clint Eastwood's] swan song – not just because when a film is this lifeless you long for an empty chair of your own, but because I’d love to see Clint hit a real curveball out the park one more time.
Trouble With The Curve works because of its performances.
Too predictable and safe ever to be in any danger of swinging for the fences, the film might at least satisfy fans of Eastwood’s recent chair-berating performance at the Republican Convention.
This sentimental baseball movie is so formulaic that it looks as if it was written by a computer programme.
Adams and Eastwood are much too good for the hokey material before them, and the righteous denouement is so absurd as to be vaguely insulting.
Clint is on great, growly form - a relic refusing to go quietly or gracefully - and the picture is solidly crafted and acted, including an endearing performance from Justin Timblerkake as a young scout with the hots for Mickey.
The trouble with Trouble with the Curve is that it contains no curves and precious little trouble.
You’ll know exactly where it’s going, but it still has Clint doing full-on-cranky and is a fun finger-up at corporate suits the world over.
A warm bit of American classicism with essential themes of humility and sportsmanship.
The movie celebrates a triumph of knowledge and intuitive experience over computers, which is OK by me, though it could have been written by one.
General release. Check local listings for show times.