Time Out saysAt Wimbledon's Centre Court, the men's singles finalists emerge, Dan Maskell's commentary sets the scene, and the heartaches (ie. flashbacks) begin. Finalist Martin, we learn, likes having sex beside Mexican swimming-pools with MacGraw, the wealthy designer he rescued from a burning car; but she keeps jetting to the side of her Italian millionaire/yachtsman (Schell), who in turn seems to be quite into his glamorous secretary. The soapy plot is so incredibly old-fashioned that it might be forgiven if the script didn't keep hitting so many lines straight into the net: exchanges like 'How old are you?' - 'Don't ask' are only matched by unashamedly pulpy love scenes ('Tell me everything...like how you got so beautiful'). A pity, because the tennis relationships, including a cameo from Pancho González, ring far more true; and the last set of the Wimbledon final, when we are allowed to get to it, comes close to Hollywood adrenalin-pumping at its best.