An Oliver Stone sport♓s movie was never going to be aboꦫut towel-whipping in the shower, wholesome exercise and pom poms. That this one tries to cover every single aspect of a multi-billion-dollar industry isn't too much of a surprise, and neither is the conclusion that it falls way short of being the definitive American football movie. If it had a stronger narrative focus, then maybe. But the complete film is far less than the sum of its parts.

One strength is the range of player characters: modern-day knights being preyed on by corporate Am🐼erica. Jamie Foxx all but stars as the petulant overnight celebrity player Beaman, while LL Cool J shines as a player who rates his Reebok deal above team loyalties. Against them are ranged their exploiters and groupies, with super-bitch Cameron Diaz on the front line. In classic Stone style, all the females are either juicers, hookers, doormats or flat-out bitches. Fascinating too are the match sequences, and for once, UK audiences get a better deal than the US. Having also sat through the 18-minute longer American version, we can report that the pace is improved, the story makes more sense and, most importantly, the running time is now two-and-a-half hours rather than three.

Yet throughout, content fights a rearguard action against overbearing style. Four editors are credited, and they all must have worked overtime to splice together the fury of relentlessly shaky, blurry, track💟ing camerawork that never lets up until the closing credits. Some of it is incredible but mostly it's too much to take.

All that potentia🌞l, yet Any Given Sunday spends too long looking good, forgetting to tell a decent story. And in a final display of beingover-clever, it ruins an excellent༒ final scene by tagging on a five-minute epilogue. Too flashy, far too flashy by half, Oliver.