Like Jaws not being about the shark, you realise pretty quickly this isn’t really about football. Saipan uses the Keane–McCarthy bust-up as its hook, but what it’s really poking at is how two grown men can speak the same language and still not hear each other. One lives and dies by standards and elite preparation; the other muddles through with “that’ll do” pragmatism and a few war stories.
When the film leans into that clash of worldviews, it’s fun and often painfully recognisable – anyone who’s worked under a useless boss or a ruthless disciplinarian will recognise the dynamic. The performances sketch the types nicely, even if they rarely surprise.
Where Saipan feels slighter is away from the dressing room. It hints at bigger questions about leadership, class, and what “success” even means, but doesn’t dig as deep as it could. I liked it more as an office comedy in tracksuits than as a grand state-of-the-nation drama.