Jesus, Bald-headed Christ. Of all the misguided, stupid, pointless, obscure, un-marketable, premises for a flick…this has to take the cake.
Leif Garrett is Paul Rodgers. He wants to be the next Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo. An actual footballer. But for his field of dreams to be realized, he needs to finance a trip to Europe to train.* This requires seed money. So he turns his attention to that ultimate cash-cow: the foosball tournament circuit.
Who knew this would be so lucrative?
When people think foosball, they think being drunk. It’s a bar parlor game at establishments, large and loud enough to accommodate such things. And you’d have to have been under the influence to conceive of, and then finance such a film.
Unfortunately, Leroy injures his spinning hand (um). So Paul enlists the help of 13-year old Maxine. Because that’s what 18-year-olds do, they cross state lines with minors and stay in motel rooms with them. WTF?
That’s a proposition that beggars belief. Much like passing on a scholarship at your post-secondary education to take a chance on some dopey tournament. Unless your competition had thalidomide arms, it’d probably be anyone’s game.
We podcasted Manos: The Hands of Fate, one of the most boring films ever committed to celluloid. And this is that film’s easy rival. It’s agonizing on every level you know, and on some you don’t. It’s impossible to make a filmable movie about foosball. Trust.
* (out of 5)
[Check out our podcast discussion of Longshot!]
[*Editors’ note: being 18+ is a little late in the game to be a professional footballer. Major clubs have academies and there are youth clubs, so if you’re an American eyeballing the beautiful game…you should probably start a decade earlier than Leif does here!]