The Dink may be nothing more than a formulaic diversion. Yet in an era in which goofy comedies can’t wedge their way into theaters and are being stretched egregiously thin on TV (see, most recently, Will Ferrell’s The Hawk—or don’t), there’s something comforting about a good-natured dim-bulb film that knows how to hit its beats, elicit a few laughs, and roll credits before its hijinks grow stale.
Directed by Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar’s Josh Greenbaum, and starring Jake Johnson, Ed Harris, and the incomparable Mary Steenburgen, who’s never failed to improve a ridiculous affair such as this, The Dink (July 24, Apple TV) is a throwback whose main purpose is mocking, and then embracing, the absurdity of pickleball.
Its ambitions are modest, and its humor is uneven (to put it generously). Still, with a likable cast and a winningly lighthearted spirit, it’s a film fit for a casual Friday night on the couch.
As a child, Dusty Boyd (Jake Johnson) was given the nickname “The Hammer” by his father-coach Chuck (Harris) because of the force with which he annihilated the tennis ball. A prodigy who graced magazine covers and appeared on The Late Show with David Letterman, Dusty was a sensation until, after turning pro, he faced off against Andy Roddick at the 2000 Vero Beach Classic and, during a bathroom break, suffered a debilitating wrist injury that he blamed on the future U.S. Open winner.
His career was ruined before it had begun. Now, he tells his story to the unimpressed kids whom he teaches tennis—alongside his sycophantic co-worker and sidekick PJ (Aaron Chen)—at the club run by his dad.
Dusty is a never-was who clings to the glory he expected, and though doofus PJ is maniacally committed to boosting his ego, Chuck has no illusions about his son, whom he views as a loser. Aside from blood, the sole thing Dusty and Chuck have in common is their shared distaste for pickleball, as Dusty demonstrates when one of Candace’s (Steenburgen) plastic balls lands at his feet and he acts like a jerk, making a bet in which she gets banned from the club if he can pull off a precision tennis shot.
Dusty successfully wins this wager, but the threat of pickleball remains, and at a formal dinner with the club’s top brass, Chuck deems it the “coronavirus of sports.” Chuck views himself as the vaccine designed to eradicate this epidemic, which threatens to overtake the club courtesy of Skip (Patton Oswalt), who’s petitioning for more than a single lousy, broken-down court for pickleball players.
Fortunately, Chuck has found a way to avoid caving to these “dorks”: a tournament in which the winning side gets to determine the establishment’s future.
This competition, and the charter bylaws which allow it, begets a good joke about the racist underpinnings of country club guidelines, and Harris’ enmity for pickleball is another source of occasional amusement.
Then again, the esteemed actor’s participation in this nonsense is itself funny; his rugged intensity is an apt foil for the clownish Johnson, whose Dusty is a cocky moron who knows, deep down, that he’s a washout and desperately craves the love of his father.
In the club tournament, Dusty shows off his still-formidable court skills. However, his arrogance is once again his Achilles heel, and when he suffers an injury, he seeks aid from a doctor (Ben Stiller, also an executive producer) who suggests that pickleball is just the low-impact pastime to help him recover fast enough to represent the club in the upcoming “duel.”
Stiller’s physician additionally pushes a sex website, but that bit is one of many that go nowhere fast—a symptom of a script that raises a number of promising comedic avenues (including Dusty’s fraught relationship with former girlfriend Marisa, played by newly departed Saturday Night Live cast member Chloe Fineman) and then randomly drops them.
Dusty reluctantly gives pickleball a go and winds up immediately playing alongside Steenburgen’s Candace, whose friends/opponents show him that despite the sport catering to the old and less athletic, it’s a unique game with its own quirky rules and tactics—including a signature drop shot known as “the dink” that, predictably considering the film’s title, factors into the finale.
The Dink only gently pokes fun at its chosen subculture, mostly via a couple of “grunters.” Instead, its focus is on Dusty and Candace’s growing friendship... or is it more? By the time Dusty is inviting himself over to her house to watch The Graduate, Sean Clements’ screenplay has established the potential May-December romance on the horizon, and that’s furthered by a honky tonk showdown between Candace and her ex Mitch (Martin Kove) that allows Dusty to play the fake-boyfriend hero.
The Dink doesn’t have many surprises up its sleeve, so its primary pleasure is watching Johnson slowly learn that being corny and lame is cool and listening to Harris nastily insult his offspring and the pastime he’s adopted. Most of all, though, the film is another opportunity for Steenburgen to prove her gameness for any and all silliness, and even if she isn’t afforded the chances for hilarity that she was in Step Brothers, Elf, The Proposal, Parenthood or Clifford, her expert timing and sharp reaction shots help elevate this amiable affair.
There are a couple of notable tennis-world cameos in The Dink, both of which are fine as far as such things go. Greenbaum and Clements, however, don’t maximize their conceit for gonzo daffiness. As with many of its (inferior) streaming counterparts, there’s a by-the-books tameness to the proceedings that renders it more genial than uproarious.
Nonetheless, content to coast along at a placid pace rather than swing for the fences in the style of its hard-hitting protagonist, it’s tailor-made for at-home viewing, where audiences need not pay strict attention to its plot particulars (of which few are important) and can chuckle along with its sporadically on-target lines and gags. That makes it a lot like pickleball: not too taxing and mildly kooky and entertaining, if less than exhilarating.
