Sticky My Fingers ... Fleet My Feet

From the title, I thought this was going to about a bit of Dickensian thievery. Instead, it’s a rather dull and repetitious drama about a group of middle-aged American men who routinely chuck a ball about in the park. None of them are exactly in peak position, indeed a few of them are positively plump, but with each as bad as the other it’s friendly and competitive. That is until “Wesley”, the young nephew of one of their number, turns up to play. Now most of them probably have socks older than him, so it’s no great surprise that he can run rings around them without breaking into a sweat. They, on the other hand, struggle - especially when it rains and the ground becomes more of a quagmire. For a few minutes it’s quite a fun exposé on growing old disgracefully, but it - like them - quickly runs out of steam as we end up watching most of their game in real time and that’s just a dull. It’s probably fifteen minutes longer than it needs to be to make it’s point and sustain the joke.