Michael Keaton is one of my favorite (and largely underrated) actors. He hasn't made a lot of films over the past few years, but whenever he pops up you immediately are focused on his kinetic energy, the arched eyebrows (not unlike Jack Nicholson's – I always thought it was divine intervention when they were cast in Batman since they have so many physical ties) and glib, self-deprecating wit that acts as a shield keeping him from the inner demons his characters often try to keep at bay. His latest Game 6 is no exception.

Based on a story by acclaimed author Don DeLillo (who also adapted the screenplay), Keaton stars as New York playwright Nicky Rogan who's latest work is set to debut on the same ill-fated 1986 October evening where his beloved Boston Red Sox' curse gets re-enforced by the infamous ball-between-the-legs of first baseman Bill Buckner's during game six of the World Series.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Nicky is facing many cross-roads. His new play is about to premiere on Broadway and Rogan's dilemma is whether to avoid the possible public crucifixion by notorious critic Steven Schwimmer (Robert Downey Jr. in a wonderfully daffy turn), who attends plays in masquerade, or watch the drama unfolding around his beloved Red Sox in the World Series. Along the way he avoids his family, namely his wife Lillian (the equally gifted Catherine O'Hara), who is requesting a divorce, and his teenage daughter Laurel (a great Ari Graynor). Laurel’s dabbling in the punk scene, paralleling her dad's rebellious nature by entering into heated affair with Joanna Bourne (a nubile Bebe Neuwirth) who just so happens to be also giving Nicky an ultimatum of his own.

To make matters worse he runs into an old colleague, Elliot Litvak (an unkempt and funny Griffin Dunne), who is spiraling downward fast after his last play was skewered by Schwimmer to the point the writer can quote both chapter and verse from the bilious critique which has him fixated to the point of dementia. Nicky grows increasingly weary as day becomes night, and after a short visit with his father (Tom Aldredge of The Sopranos) decides to ditch the premiere (especially when his leading man’s, always welcome veteran Harris Yulin, addled brain can't grasp key line readings). Ducking into a local bar to watch the game, with melodramatic hubris his beloved Sox get theirs adding more insult to an already injurious day. 

Filmmaker Michael Hoffman (Soapdish, A Midsummer Night’s Dream) does a yeoman-like job and gets quality performances from his gifted ensemble. Keaton gets a few juicy-yet-low-key moments as well, balancing the tension which is leading to his possible fall. Smartly shot on location in Manhattan, the city acts as a character providing just enough backdrop to the proceedings. DeLillo has a fine gift and the parallel of Nicky's play, a quasi-autobiography about his relationship with his working class dad, coupled with his family life shows a flawed man genuinely wanting to make things work. The same can be said for this little gem, Game 6.

Film Rating: êêê  (out of 4)