Maurice Flitcroft (Mark Rylance) was the Ed Wood of drivers, Forrest Gump a few bucks shy of the green fees, known in media circles as the worst golfer in the history of the sport. (His answer to “What’s your handicap?” is “I’m not sick.”) Without once having played a round, and looking to segue out of a career as a crane operator, Flitcroft stepped on the TV remote, up popped a golf match, and thus began screenwriter Simon Farnaby's epic struggle between historical accuracy and artistic license. Rylance no doubt studied all the available footage of his subject, but his performance never rises above the level of refined mimicry. Under various disguises, any one of which would make Inspector Clouseau snicker, the “people’s golfer” spent years sneaking into the British Open. How is it that tourney potentate Keith Mackenzie (Rhys Ifans) failed to notice Flitcroft’s flagrant press-on 70s pornstache? Add a devoted little woman (Sally Hawkins) and a “love me, daddy” subplot involving the adoption of her illegitimate son (Jake Davies) and all I could think was what Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski (Ed Wood, Dolemite is My Name) would have done with this celebration of mediocrity. Directed by Craig Roberts. (2022) — Scott Marks
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