Images courtesy of Apple Films
THE DINK— 3 STARS
In Apple’s The Dink, a failed tennis pro languishing as an instructor at his father’s tennis club is forced to, in his mind, lower himself to learn pickleball. When Jake Johnson’s Dustin “The Hammer” Boyd arrives in his 1999 Buick LeSabre and wearing his signature headband at the local pickleball mixer he found on the internet, he walks into the sights and sounds of a different game with equally different rules and vocabulary, including the title term he will come to learn the hard way. As fate would have it, he’s partnered with a divorcee named Candace (Academy Award winner and ageless national treasure Mary Steenburgen), whom he recently lambasted at the tennis club for playing this supposedly lesser sport in an incident that led to her lifetime banishment.
Across the short court are a pair of fellow snuggly and stylishly dressed seniors by the names of Judy and Gail, played respectively by the “Miss Yvonne” from Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, the late Lynne Marie Stewart, and former Mike & Molly co-star Cleo King. As Dusty shows his not-too-subtle revulsion and tries to back out, Gail stops the weak pleasantries dead in their tracks with a “Cut the shit, kid” and the fervent retorts of “I came to get a sweat, bitch” and “I’m hot! Let’s bang one out!” The competitive juices are flowing like Metamucil in the colons of three of the four assembled players of septuagenarian age, and the game is on.
True to his power tennis roots, Dusty is forcing his movements, hitting every shot way too hard, and losing points left and right–-all to the hilarious cackles from Cleo King strutting every which way as Gail. When Dusty breaks the rules of “The Kitchen” (feel free to bone up on the lingo), Gail repeats her putdown refrain of “Do the dishes while you’re in there, bitch,” stressing and elongating that last word a little longer each time. All while the supposed former professional unravels with feeble comebacks to lose on a “dink” shot, her devious glee is entirely contagious.
LESSON #1: COULD WE JUST WATCH THE WHOLE GAME?— It’s at this point of The Dink where one might wish time could stand still. I, for one, would love to watch the entire match of cocky abject failure on one side pitted against the well-deserved, pride-destroying name-calling volleyed from the other. This scene calls to mind the viscerally confrontational desk banter between Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg in 2010’s The Other Guys, where I could watch those two comedy titans bust each other’s balls all damn day and twice on Sunday. Cleo King shows herself to be an artist with the B-word, and 60 to 90 minutes of watching her roast Jake Johnson would be all the comedy necessary for a good time on the streaming couch at home.
Sadly, though not entirely unfortunate, the need for a shaggy P-L-O-T from Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar and Strays director Josh Greenbaum and Workaholics screenwriter Sean Clements interjects and takes us away from the simplicity of athletic shenanigans in The Dink. Dusty’s real reason for chasing that chartreuse whiffleball is to represent the tennis club in an upcoming competition. The wager is constructing more pickleball courts to appease the customers (led by Patton Oswalt) and answer the sport’s growing popularity, much to the gruff chagrin of Dusty’s father and former coach, Chuck (Oscar winner Ed Harris).
LESSON #2: STRIVING FOR PARENTAL APPROVAL— As this cockamamie plotline is extruded through the sports movie mold, the majority of The Dink follows two predictable redemption arcs. The main one is Dusty trying to win back Chuck’s approval decades after self-destructing under the pressures of young stardom in a loss to Andy Roddick (who cameos here) at the 2000 Vera Beach Classic. True to the stern, red-assed actor playing him, Chuck seethes with disdain and disappointment through every wrinkled crease of his smile-less face, making forgiveness and renewal on the court two tall orders, even if the nets are now shorter.
LESSON #3: THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF COUNTRY MUSIC— Mary Steenburgen’s Candace occupies the second cliché journey in the film with a slight adjustment for age. For her, pickleball becomes yet another hobby (of many) she takes on to keep her spirit active and get herself out there after divorce. She takes the hot mess of Dusty under her wing socially and applies the prescriptive power of cowgirl country music to cure his parallel feelings of disappointment. Once that cowboy hat replaces the headband on Dusty’s head (which shockingly suits Johnson in a hunky way), the effect may just work.
The Dink gives Johnson and especially Steenburgen, who has long been buried playing moms or being behind bigger leads in ensemble pictures like The Book Club, a wealth of quality time scenes off the pickleball court to trigger a surprisingly sweet “will they/won’t they” May-December vibe that is hard to root against. Their individual showmanship—her beaming luminosity and his gift of gab—and their combined appeal as a pairing finding mutual kinship after a rocky start to lift each other out of their mental blocks and external troubles fit the winning template of a sports comedy centered on loser reclamation—a tier of the subgenre which has many examples.
LESSON #4: COME AND TRY THE SPORT— Though packaged with plenty of crassness and off-color humor (especially producer Ben Stiller’s extended cameo as Dusty’s doctor), we’re here for the sideline sweetness and the infectious nature of the approachable sport. If pickleball seems preposterous for those unsure or unaware, even when played professionally, like it’s nothing more than ping pong with feet, imagine a formulaic sports movie climbing to the proverbial Big Game, embracing its goofy labels alongside Cleo King’s bitch-stamped ones. Like the sport itself, The Dink is a light bounce and an easy good time without anyone over-exerting themselves.
LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#1413)
