'McEnroe' is a compelling look at an outspoken star who is as interesting now as he was then

It’s good to be bad on TV, with the rise of the antihero — see Tony Soprano, Walter White — being one of the biggest developments of 21st century viewing.

John McEnroe beat them to it.

McEnroe, so brilliant on a tennis court when he hadn’t lit the fuse to self-destruct, was as fascinating a character study as modern sports have produced. His game was so smart. Why did he act the way he did?

“McEnroe,” a documentary film directed by Barney Douglas, tries to answer this question, with McEnroe retracing the steps of his youth through his playing days, when he was as much a rock star as a tennis player. And never seemingly happy about it.

Or as McEnroe puts it himself, looking back: “I’m the greatest player that’s ever played. At this point, why does it not feel that amazing?”

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The film, like an army of therapists, can't get to the bottom of McEnroe

The answers are so complex it’s not clear that even McEnroe fully understands them. But it’s a fascinating puzzle to watch him try to solve. So far, he says, an army of therapists haven’t gotten him any closer to the truth.

The conceit of the film is following McEnroe over one night in New York, which means lots of moody dark shots of him strolling empty streets — to the courts down the way where he first picked up the game, hopping the subway to where the U.S. Open is played and other spots that helped define him. These shots don’t add much to the overall film, but they do establish a foreboding feeling.

McEnroe didn’t want to be a tennis player, he says. It wasn’t until he saw Bjorn Borg on TV, attracting rock-star attention (including from women), that he decided to give it a shot. Of course Borg, from whom we hear several times, would become his greatest opponent, their epic Wimbledon and U.S. Open battles among the greatest tests of will the sport has ever known.

We see parts of some of those thrillers, epic tennis marathons that drained players and audience alike.

Of course we also see McEnroe’s equally epic meltdowns, his verbal attacks on umpires, his agonizing battle with himself, all there on public display. The British media dubbed him “Superbrat.” Nothing we see or learn here makes a compelling argument against the nickname, neither the brat nor the super.

But we also see enough of the tennis to be reminded that McEnroe wasn’t just a player. He was an artist. He didn’t bludgeon shots, he recalls. He just made them, and kept making them, until his opponent missed his. He attacked the net with trademark intensity. His matches with Borg were things of beauty, but at some point the only person who could defeat McEnroe was McEnroe.

He was pretty good at that, too.

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McEnroe first married Tatum O'Neal, then Patty Smyth

Amateur psychiatrists could easily come to the conclusion that McEnroe’s father — demanding, exacting and also his manager — played a big role in his son’s mental make-up. But McEnroe doesn’t blame his father. He doesn’t really blame anyone.

He is in fact circumspect about a lot of his problems. “McEnroe” is a reminder that when McEnroe and Borg were going at it, tennis was huge in the U.S. The best players were celebrities. (For context, one of the people interviewed in the film about McEnroe is Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. McEnroe seemingly owned New York for a time.)

McEnroe married another celebrity, Tatum O’Neal. They had children but the marriage ended badly. McEnroe coyly says things like infidelity probably doesn’t help, and that drugs are maybe not great, but is never specific. But the point is hard to miss.

We don’t hear from O’Neal, but we do hear from McEnroe’s current wife, the singer Patty Smyth. She seems at times bemused by her husband’s behavior, which by all accounts has improved greatly. Everyone, including him, talks about McEnroe as a work in progress — and really, aren’t we all?

So many athletes now are bland and guarded about their lives, their opinions — about everything, really. They’re afraid to offend. McEnroe never felt that way, about anything. “McEnroe” is a compelling reminder of a time when the outspoken McEnroe lived out loud, foibles and all. It was fascinating to watch then. The film is fascinating now.

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'McEnroe'

7 p.m. Sunday, Sept. 4 on Showtime. Available on streaming and on-demand Showtime platforms for subscribers on Friday, Sept. 2.

Reach Goodykoontz at bill.goodykoontz@arizonarepublic.com. Facebook: facebook.com/GoodyOnFilm. Twitter: @goodyk. Subscribe to the weekly movies newsletter.

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This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: 'McEnroe' review: Showtime's film explores why John McEnroe was so mad