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Wimbledon (film)

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Wimbledon (2004) is a romantic comedy film about a washed-up tennis pro named Peter Colt (played by Paul Bettany) and an up and coming tennis star called Lizzie Bradbury (played by Kirsten Dunst) during the Wimbledon Championships.

Directed by Richard Loncraine. Written by Adam Brooks, Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin.
She's the golden girl. He's the longshot. It's a match made in... (taglines)

Peter Colt

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  • Oh my god, shouldn't he be off learning about masturbation or something?
  • Ron, I genuinely despise you.
  • And may I say good body – luck! Shit.
  • Carl, you bastard.
  • Lizzie, Lizzie, don't say a word. I was thinking a repeat of the other night, like Fish and Chips, early to bed... Mr Bradbury, hello. Mr Bradbury?
  • My parents are still together, which proves that love is not only blind, it's bloody stupid.
  • The reality is another story, my story. See that good looking fella? No, not the kid in white – the other tired, good looking fella. Yeah, him. Well, that's me. British Davis Cup, long time ago. Two singles titles, even longer ago. Presently ranked 119th in the world. Sport is cruel. Now, I know it doesn't sound too bad. 4 million tennis players in the world and I'm 119th, but what that really means is this: 118 guys out there are faster, stronger, better and younger.
  • [Walking out onto Centre Court] Fuck a duck.
  • [After winning Wimbledon] Can I retire now, Mum?

Lizzie Bradbury

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  • What are you talking about. The chalk flew up there's a mark right there.
  • Hit this one... and I'll sleep with you.
  • Too bad, you could have used the workout.

Ron Roth

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  • So that's cucumber cucumber and cucumber, they forgot to put the sandwich in my sandwich.
  • I really don't care who wins, I represent both players It's like asking which of my kids do I love more. Which of my kids do I love more? My daughter speak to you later.
  • Call Letterman, call Leno, call Oprah.

Dialogue

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Peter: I'm tired of hotels, airports and long distance love affairs that never go anywhere.
Carl: Losing.
Peter: Yeah losing, thanks Carl.
Carl: Now tell her about the tickets
Augusta: Tickets?
Peter: Oh God, you really are a wanker aren't you?
Carl: Harsh but fair.
Girl: Piccy?
Carl: Just a bitty.
Carl: Change of venue girls, your mums or mine?
Peter: Out. [To Lizzie] I am so sorry.
Carl: Might want to change the sheets.
Peter: Excuse me, the ball was good.
Umpire: 40-30
Peter: Oh come on, the ball was good chalk flew up the whole damn stadium saw it. I don't know if you've noticed but this is quite an important point.
Umpire: That's too close for me to overrule. Please resume play.
Peter: Absolutely not, I'm not playing on this is complete BOLLOCKS!
Carl: ABSOLUTELY BOLLOCKS!
Carl: 20 quid to win, Ajay Bhat.
Carl's mate: Hey isn't he playing your brother?
Bookie: You should be ashamed.
Carl: Yeah but curiously, I'm not.
Carl: Where are the men's games?
Carl's mate: Roddick lost to Jake Hammond in four sets.
Carl: Shit. What about Peter and Prohl?
Carl's mate: Didn't you hear? Pete decimated him mate, straight sets.
Carl: Shit.
Carl's mate: What, you bet against him again?
Carl: That bastard usually comes through for me he's been on such a good losing streak.
Woman: Oh look that's Peter Colt the new pro. Once ranked seventeenth in the world
Peter: ELEVENTH!!!!
Peter: What are you doing here Ron? You're not still my agent.
Ron: What are you talking about?
Peter: What am I talking about? Let me see. I called you about a year ago and I'm still waiting for you to return my call.
Ron: I don't do phone calls I'm into emails now.
Peter: Ron, that is a lie.
Ron: Yeah its a lie but you know what Peter agents are NOT miracle workers. I can't sell a product that doesn't exist but here you are existing again so I'm back selling.
Peter: Ron, I genuinely despise you.
Peter: Of course I want to win, of course I do. He's just better than me.
Lizzie:: No, he's not.
Peter: I'm two sets down my backs killing me...
Lizzie: Play through the pain.
Peter: I'm too tired, my legs feel like lead.
Lizzie: Find a second wind, its what all champions do.
Peter: His serve is unstoppable.
Lizzie: No it's not it's a bundle of tells.
Peter: Sorry?
Lizzie: Jake's serve is like a book, you just need to know how to read it.
John McEnroe: Jake Hammond has been on an absolute tear. He's dropped just ONE set this entire tournament and look who he's had to beat. Roddick, Hewitt, Federer.
Chris Evertt: By comparison with the exception of Dragomir and Tom Cavendish, Colt's road to this final has been a relative pushover.
John McEnroe: Yeah but he's played some great Tennis.
Jake: I warned you about her. By the way how's the weak back?
Peter: It's fine thanks. How's the weak mind?
Carl: 100 quid on Cavendish in the quarters.
Bookie: Hold your horses. So still betting against your brother then?
Carl: It's tactical. If he loses I get rich, If he wins I get laid.
Bookie: Where'd you get 100 quid from anyway?
Carl: Photo journalism.
Carl: Now, tell her about the tickets.
Mrs. Colt: Tickets?
Peter: Oh, God, you really are a wanker, aren't you?
Carl: And seeing as this may be my last Wimbledon press conference, I'd like to take the opportunity to announce my retirement – (JAKE enters)
Reporters: Jake! Jake!
Peter: From tennis. [They don't notice] That's my retirement from tennis!
Lizzie: Why are you running behind me?
Peter: I'm just enjoying the view!
Lizzie: It's a good thing you didn't get the wrong bedroom.
Peter: Oh, I did, but it turns out your Dad is a very quick shag.
Peter: There's always another tournament . . .
Lizzie: Another girl?
Peter: That's right, Leslie. [Bends his fingers] Lizzie! Ow, ow!

Cast

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