To paraphrase Miles Davis; the music exists in the spaces between the notes.
Those coming to this expecting an explosive 90 minutes of tricks, flicks and glory are going to be sorely disappointed. But hey, football's already filled with more than enough shouty hyperbole to satisfy that crowd in my opinion.
This fittingly unique and surreally compelling tone poem to a complex and inscrutable icon operating within a multi-million dollar machine is almost Zen like as it approches it's aggressive conclusion. It manages to convey the tumultuous depths that always laid just beneath the calm surface of this most enigmatic of players. Mogwai's score is the perfect companion piece to the palpable feeling of frustration and subsequent somewhat inevitable release that eventually occurs.
Give me Zidane's mercurial minimalism over the petulant, self-aggrandising show boating of players like Christiano Ronaldo any day of the week
I completely understand how this film is not for everyone but I for one am happy that an appreciation of art and football are not necessarily mutually exclusive and personally found that it made me contemplate my relationship with watching and playing the beautiful game.