Next Goal Wins, review: Michael Fassbender’s cartoonish underdog comedy hits the post

It can be galling when distinctive filmmakers get themselves stuck in the teeth of a franchise, and the chance of more personal work dims with every disposable one-for-them instalment. In the case of Marvel’s Taika Waititi, however, five minutes with one of his recent ones-for-me is enough to make you volunteer to drive the truckloads of Disney cash yourself.

Next Goal Wins isn’t the tonal catastrophe that was 2019’s Jojo Rabbit: a dainty coming-of-age romance set against the whimsical backdrop of, erm, the Holocaust. But in a way it’s even worse, since it bungles a far less contentious premise – one we’ve already seen can work beautifully on screen, thanks to the documentary from which it was adapted.

Made in the run-up to the 2014 Fifa World Cup qualifiers, the original film tracked the fortunes of the American Samoan football team – the side that once infamously lost 31-0 to Australia, the worst international defeat in the history of the sport. Helped by a severe new Dutch-American coach, Thomas Rongen, the players overcame their gaping lack of talent and drive to…well, pull off the sort of plucky underdog triumph that feels made for the movies, and is therefore all the more satisfying when it pops up in the wild.

Waititi’s version takes that story, domesticates it, and coats it with a grim veneer of middlebrow awardsiness: think Harvey Weinstein’s Cool Runnings. To forestall any grumblings about creative liberties, Waititi himself pops up in a brief prologue as a wacky vicar, who jocularly waves away the various narrative nips and tweaks that lie ahead.

Possibly miscast, possibly just lumbered with an unplayable role, Michael Fassbender stars as Thomas Rongen, the foul-tempered trainer fallen on hard times. Here, he is an alcoholic wrestling with initially nebulous demons – and also just a deeply depressing character to spend time with, since all he does is miserably rail against the tropical idyll on which he’s washed up.

He has no love for its inhabitants either, whose cartoonishly rustic ways make the inhabitants of Father Ted’s Craggy Island look like the cast of Frasier. But while the film makes much comedic play of how hilariously awful white people are – with Thomas apparently serving as a proxy for the whole breed – its nonwhite characters are little more than grinning props in Thomas’s own redemption arc. Unluckiest of the bunch is Kaimana Solai’s Jaiyah, a member of Polynesia’s fa’afafine, or “third gender”, who becomes an early focal point for Thomas’s bile, before being thanklessly charged with teasing out our hero’s inner progressive.

After a while, it’s as if Thomas’s self-loathing begins to rub off on the script, which keeps undercutting should-be-resonant moments with smirking references to other films. The Karate Kid is quoted (often), as is Any Given Sunday in a pivotal scene – as is, inexplicably, Liam Neeson’s “very particular set of skills” monologue from Taken. At other points, the film seems to stop caring what comedy should even look like: ostensibly upbeat scenes are lit as if their characters are under FBI interrogation. Here was an open goal for a likeable, low-stakes romp – and whoops, there it goes, spooning off into the neighbours’ bushes.

12A cert, 104 mins. In cinemas now

Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month, then enjoy 1 year for just $9 with our US-exclusive offer.