Or, a 21st century portrait, for our less French readers. And it’s worth clarifying the title because as a film, Zidane does pretty much what it says on the tin: this is a “documentary” following footballer Zinedine Zidane through the entire ninety minutes of the April 23rd 2005 match between Real Madrid and Villareal. Just to clarify a little more: this is not a football match masquerading as a movie; this is seventeen cameras watching a single person throughout the course of said game. It’s an important distinction because anyone who goes to this wanting to see football played (even if only by one person) is in for a disappointment.

There really isn’t an awful lot going on here. On a couple of occasions the film does actually leave Zidane, for a montage of other notable events that occurred on that day, (presumably intended as wider context), and for footage shot in the corridors of the Santiago Bernabéu stadium. Beyond that, a few wholly unnecessary camera effects, and brief, subtitled portions of an interview, there really is nothing to watch but Mr. Zidane.

If this sounds less than absorbing, take into account that for at least half the running time, Zidane stands still, scowls a lot, occasionally shouts or waves to other players, and sweats profusely. To be fair, this lack of visual excitement is not really the fault of the directors – the man plays football like others play chess, staring hawk-like over the pitch, absorbing what’s going on and searching for opportunities. On the occasions that he actually does something the resultant burst of speed is astonishing, as is his actual playing in those rare moments of action.

But even when Zidane is in motion, even when he has the ball, there’s no guarantee that the cameras will represent his exploits – they’re as likely to be showing an extreme close-up of his feet, focusing on his upper body, or perhaps cutting to a shot so long that he becomes an unrecognisable speck in the distance.

And herein lies the biggest problem with Zidane the film: it doesn’t seem to know, or perhaps to care, who its intended audience is. Football fans will find the diversions, distractions and gratuitous artiness intensely irritating; whereas anyone who might take something from a feature-length art installation is not necessarily going to be interested enough in its subject to appreciate its pretensions.

Having said that, taken on its own merits it does have … well … something going for it. The soundtrack, which chops between the roar of the crowd, the action on pitch and instrumental pieces by Scottish band Mogwai, is absorbing in its own right. Put it together with the images on screen, and the whole thing becomes oddly hypnotic and meditative. And there are fleeting moments when you really do feel that you understand Zidane, both as a sportsman and a human being – it’s hard not to feel a connection with someone who is presented to you this intimately and unrelentingly.

But, while as a work of entertainment it’s certainly more interesting than the concept would suggest, it’s arguably much less interesting than actually watching Zidane play might have been. And as a work of art it’s often obtuse and self-indulgent rather than revealing or insightful. In the end, if the concept sounds at all appealing then Zidane, un portrait du 21e siècle is just about interesting enough as an experiment to justify the time spent watching it.