Heralded at this year’s Cannes Film Festival as Woody Allen’s return to form, Match Point instead turns out to be merely a dull, slightly objectionable rehash of Crimes and Misdemeanors whose novelty stems primarily from being set in London rather than Manhattan. Aside from foreign accents and slightly different scenery – though not that different, as the sight of tree-canopied UK row houses immediately recalls the Upper West Side – Allen’s latest is a very, very serious drama about a tennis instructor (and former pro player) named Chris (an artfully egotistical Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) who falls into a convenient marriage with the daughter (Emily Mortimer) of a wealthy businessman but finds himself unable to resist the invitingly luscious lips of his brother-in-law’s fiancé Nola (the fetching Scarlett Johansson). The push-pull between Chris’ soul-sapping marriage and erotic extramarital affair forms the crux of Allen’s somewhat engaging but well-worn amorality play, in which ideas of noble and naughty behavior turn out to be inconsequential human constructs in a world governed by the whimsical hand of fate. [Spoiler Alert] At least, such is the excuse for Match Point’s coolly photographed portrait of deadly deceit-gone-unpunished, which purports to reveal the callous unfairness of the world but merely succeeds in indulging in the filmmaker’s all-too-often unpleasant feminine stereotypes, where women are either dull, nagging wives or young, carnal harpies who stridently demand commitment and loyalty. Had Woody infused the film with a scathing dose of black humor, such pedantry might have been saved from its sluggishness. As it is, however, Match Point is merely a dreary regurgitation of prior (better) Allen efforts dressed up in a stolid British suit.