by JOANNE LATIMER

Sunny and sweet, this film is what's to be expected - a big studio romantic comedy about two tennis aces who fall in love at Wimbledon. And when winning movie stars like Kirsten Dunst and Paul Bettany play the star-crossed lovers, expect less - less substance, balanced by more dazzling close-ups and a bigger budget. It's a mainstream movie, for God's sake, so we can't ask for a treatise on victory and defeat. We are shown the powerful effect of psychology in sport, and over-protective parents, but we aren't bothered by any cinematic peripherals - like plot twists, complicated motives, emotional resonance or sidebar stories.

This is Wimbledon lite, from Richard Loncraine. It's hard to muster up any strong feelings against this film. Like most confectionaries, it's harmless in measured doses. The director, most respected for his film version of Richard III starring Ian McKellen and Annette Bening, changes gears here and gives us a decent date movie full of jaunty tennis outfits. The sun is always glinting off Dunst's hair, while Bettany downplays the superiority of his English accent with self-deprecating humour and prat falls. He stumbles into her bathroom at a hotel, seeing her naked before they're properly introduced, and that kick-starts the affair.

The British have a word to describe girls like Dunst's character. She's forward. Even her father, the formidable Sam Neill, admits that she uses sex to "stay relaxed" at tournaments. She's really relaxed at Wimbledon, you'll notice, especially considering she's a professional athlete with her entire career on the line. But she pays the price and now all of our attention can focus on Bettany's rise through the ranks to the final match of the tournament.

In between, we must endure some smelly scenes of the lovers gazing up at the sky at comets. We watch them sneak into each other's hotel rooms and defy Sam Neill's edict against the relationship.

Bettany's internal monologues on the tennis court are the funniest stuff in the film - maybe the only funny stuff - but his easy manner and chemistry with Dunst has a lot of mileage too. He and Dunst dodge the paparazzi in his convertible sports car, motoring away to the coast for a day, and who could wish them further hardship? Certainly not the screenwriters, including Canadian Adam Brooks. You could close the summer with a worse film than Wimbledon and actors less lovely than Kirsten Dunst and Paul Bettany. Allow yourself this sweet surrender.

Wimbledon opens Friday, Sept. 17

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