Whilst it is quite interesting, this documentary, it is still little better than a self-indulgent reminiscence by the man himself that features virtually no contributions from those folks who suffered from his petulance and immaturity - both on the court and elsewhere. Set against a long stroll through his haunts in New York, it takes us on a chronologically ordered career retrospective focussing on his rise to global success on the tennis court; his "superbrat" behaviour and his flawed relationships with friends and family alike, but it's all done very much on his own terms. His moments of revelation - long since appreciated by anyone who watched him and his tantrums as they grew up (including me) - are presented by him in an almost celebratory way. Could he have achieved what he did - which, by even the standards of the day in his sport are nothing particularly remarkable - without the attention seeking strops? Sure there was gamesmanship going on a-plenty, but he seemed to revel in the extent to which he "recreated" tennis - or that is certainly the perspective I took from this very disappointing Barney Douglas feature. It completely lacks objectivity allowing this undoubtedly talented but supremely peevish man to write his own story and though there is the slightest hint of a mea culpa at the end, it's all very much "How History Should Remember John McEnroe" - by John McEnroe himself. Worth a watch, but under-delivers.
