Under these conditions, it seems only fair to evaluate Tin Cup by comparing it to Kingpin. That way, if you see only one movie about an alcoholic, underdog athlete who's a natural at a solitary sport, who against all odds manages to compete against an opponent with an unpleasant personality--an opponent who happens to have had sex with the fetching heroine--and the athlete, who experiences a sense of triumph but does not triumph fully, also lives in a dump and has a goofy sidekick, etc., you can make an informed decision about which one it will be. In the interest of clarity, I have included a graph to aid in our evaluation.

The first bar on the graph addresses the question of funniness. Is Tin Cup a funny movie? The short answer is no. Though it has comic moments, Tin Cup is not as funny as Kingpin, and to be fair, it's not trying to be. As a romantic comedy, Tin Cup indulges in moments of character revelation and light flirtation, rather than rampant silliness. Rene Russo, as a ditzy psychotherapist who plays Costner's love interest, is magnetic in her role, and the electricity between them crackles (except when they kiss, when they look bummed). Costner, as an irresponsible golf pro known as Roy "Tin Cup" McAvoy, is both poetic and straightforward, and, though I understand Costner is widely hated, he does have a certain boyish charisma. So, although Tin Cup has none of the reckless comic energy of Kingpin, is does rate higher on the sexy scale (see graph), in which the misogynistic Kingpin bombs.

What about exciting sports action? Both films bravely take as their topic solitary sports which, by their nature, lack drama. Without team dynamics, displays of athletic prowess or an adequate seating area for spectators, both golf and bowling are decidedly un-cinematic. Though in each movie, the respective heroes' very identities rest on the outcome of a single game, this added tension is a poor substitute for a dynamic sport, as a few seconds reflection on the blood lust in Raging Bull, Rollerball or even Rocky will make clear. Therefore, both movies get low marks on the sports action scale.

When the action fails, the quality of the sidekick becomes crucial. Both Woody Harrelson in Kingpin and Costner in Tin Cup are blessed with comic sidekicks who keep the "ball rolling," so to speak. Randy Quaid, as the Amish bowler who helps Harrelson see his true talent, is essential to the plot of Kingpin and a good source of laughs. He scores high on the sidekick scale. Cheech Marin, while perhaps a better actor than Quaid, is relatively unimportant to the plot of Tin Cup; also, his ethnic identity is handled without wit or intelligence, making him come off a bit like Sancho Panza to Costner's Don Quixote. For this, he gets low marks on the sidekick scale.

In the category of plot surprises, Kingpin has a freshness that leaves Tin Cup wanting. Tin Cup is not nearly as innovative (but since it skips those jarring references to the alimentary tract, it does make a better date movie). Closely connected to this is the true evil of the soul of the opponent. Bill Murray in Kingpin engages in some certifiably loathsome behavior, earning him high marks on the evil opponent scale. Costner's nemesis Don Johnson, on the other hand, is only mildly annoying, rather than truly rotten. He has a sort of harmless, golden retriever quality to him; I can picture him stealing Costner's blow dryer, but nothing worse. Therefore, Tin Cup scores low on the evil opponent scale.

Now all you need to do is choose a pair of gloves and a very large, or very small, ball, and you're all set to go to the movies.