Critic Reviews

Writer-director Stephen Belber's inspiriting, generous Match is so good that it's like some kind of trick.

This small film (virtually all of it filmed in Tobi’s New York apartment) is a real gem. Stewart is the main draw and he doesn’t disappoint one bit. Gugino delivers a richly layered performance, tricky as the part calls for supreme subtlety. Lillard is a major revelation here.

This is Stewart's show, and it's a dynamite role for anyone, never mind the screen's beloved Professor Xavier. The actor slips away and Tobi ultimately dominates the screen to the point where you lose track of the film proper and become Tobi's guest.

Match has enough meaty and engaging character material to effectively sidestep the very theatrical contrivance of its plot premise, which does have a great deal of potential for reversal and counter reversal and indeed takes full advantage of that potential.

Patrick Stewart knocks it out of the park as a Juilliard School dance teacher forced to spill his biggest secrets in Match, which playwright Stephen Belber effectively directed and adapted from his own Broadway play.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard would be enough for one lifetime, but given that Sir Patrick is now living out an exuberant second adolescence as a Brooklyn hipster and throwing himself into parts like these, it’s time to proclaim him another reason to love New York.

Match is no masterpiece, but it is an intriguing and entertaining example of actors lifting the material they're given to greater heights, with Stewart leading the way.

Drama is driven by conflict, but in this particular case it’s the calm between the storms that captivates.

Patrick Stewart's performance is practically an argument for Belber to jettison everything else and take the actor on the road as a one-man spoken-word act.

Despite the sharp dialogue...and carefully managed dramatic rhythms, Match still can’t help but seem a bit cramped, particularly once the plot starts to take some predictable turns and the shouting starts. It’s a fine line that divides the intimate from the claustrophobic.