Roger Federer is arguably the most watchable tennis player of all time. When wielding his racquet like a wand, the Swiss icon was distinguished as much by what he didn’t do as by what he did. No grunting from the baseline, no shenanigans to rile up the crowd, no biting the trophy or eating the grass at Wimbledon. With Federer, everything seemed as easy as it was elegant.

The exact opposite holds true for Asif Kapadia, best known for his trilogy of archive-centric documentaries — Senna (2010), Amy (2015) and Diego (2019). Kapadia doesn’t do easy or elegant. Instead, he wrestles with the squalor enveloping his subjects and frequently conjures something sublime. Unlike Federer’s sophisticated restraint, Kapadia is famous for being a maximalist. In Federer: Twelve Final Days, Prime Video’s 100-minute-long documentary centred around Federer’s farewell match in September 2022, Kapadia’s subject plays to form and character. But it’s Kapadia himself (co-director with Joe Sabia) who subverts expectations to produce something that’s memorable but manicured.

Before delving further into Twelve Final Days, it’s useful to ponder what such a documentary is supposed to achieve in the first place. The relentless media coverage of Federer's last match (where he teamed up with Rafael Nadal) and the 2022 Laver Cup as a whole left little to the imagination as Federer experienced his parting moments on court as a professional. As an athlete, there’s practically nothing important about Federer that his legions of admirers don’t already know. What, then, are Kapadia and Sabia meant to do? For starters, they could probe beneath the near-perfect image of Federer to arrive at a better understanding of the imperfect individual, someone who had to overcome anger issues in his formative years to become the phenomenon he did. They could also make use of their unprecedented access to Federer’s family, coterie, and his most decorated rivals — chiefly Nadal, Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray — to bring out the particularities of human relationships that surround the 20-time Grand Slam champion. If these are the two metrics against which Twelve Final Days is to be assessed, then it’s a mixed bag of a verdict — an engrossing failure in its first aim and a partial success in its second.

Twelve Final Days feels less like a documentary and more like a virtual invite to an impeccably organised retirement party

Twelve Final Days was originally supposed to be a home video, as mentioned in its trailer and the pre-release promotions. When and why did Federer and Co decide to show it to the world? Nobody bothers to answer. The opening minutes of the film are promising, with a glimpse into the Federer industrial complex and the nuances it has to navigate regarding Federer’s decision to retire. The controlled chaos that characterises these exchanges reminds one of HBO’s Succession, albeit if Succession were a comedy! Federer is a lot of fun here, striking the right balance between candour and class. As he so often did with his opponents, Federer makes the camera react to his rhythm, with snippets of delightful humour — from Federer messing up a line of his farewell announcement to him slapping a mannequin in the gym — never far away.

We get to know that one of Federer’s sons, Leo, is an Arsenal fan. Also that Federer feels “I didn’t respect Djokovic enough because of his technical flaws” during the Serb’s early days. But the most interesting revelation concerns Federer’s admission that he tried to act more aggressive in the middle of his career (subconsciously influenced by the raging and ranting of the likes of Nadal and Djokovic), but simply couldn’t sustain it. However, this compelling note of introspection comes and goes as fast as Federer serving out a game of aces in his pomp. There’s no time to reflect or ask further questions.

Once the action shifts from Switzerland to London (the venue for Federer’s last stand) and the star-studded supporting cast rolls into view, Twelve Final Days feels less like a documentary and more like a virtual invite to an impeccably organised retirement party. A hilarious chat about formal shirts involving Federer and Djokovic is one of the most heartwarming segments alongside the tidbits that men’s tennis’ “Big Four” exchange among themselves. While Federer’s fanboying over Bjorn Borg seems sincere, what comes across as overly contrived are the cut-scenes where the Swiss is in his own company. With stares replacing words, Federer becomes more conscious of the camera and loses some of his disarming charm. For a sport as lonely as tennis, it’s ironic that Federer’s moments with himself — with the exception of a simple but touching section where he is sharpening his racquet — are the ones that ring the most hollow.

The history between Federer and Nadal shapes their humanity

The rest of Twelve Final Days unfolds predictably. Everyone on screen says things about Federer that everyone has heard before. The cry-on-the-wall approach for the last 15 to 20 minutes means that it’s hard not to feel a lump in your throat if your vocal cords have chanted “Roger, Roger” at any point this century. But a tearfest doesn’t necessarily make Twelve Final Days more meaningful. Having said that, the one unquestionable virtue of the film is how it uses editing to portray the frenemies that are Federer and Nadal. While the duo’s recent campaign video for Louis Vuitton may be more entertaining, the parts in this documentary are more endearing. Not least the shot where Federer and Nadal swap jokes in the locker room minutes after sobbing and holding each other’s hands at the thought of never sharing a court again.

Unlike Djokovic and Murray, Nadal’s rapport with Federer isn’t filtered by any script or cinematic technique. Similar to the equation between Lionel Messi and Angel Di Maria in Messi’s World Cup by Apple TV+, the history between the two shapes their humanity. Having pushed each other to the limits of sporting excellence, Federer and Nadal shine in Twelve Final Days, not as exemplary tennis players (not much is made of their doubles defeat, and rightly so) but as enduring friends. Ultimately, the Fedal subplot is what makes Twelve Final Days leave a lasting impression. Watch it for the two greatest frenemies in modern sport, the feel-good montages, the banter, and an in-depth look at Federer’s wardrobe. But if you’re expecting to understand the implications of Federer’s retirement and what the future holds in store for RF, be prepared for a double fault.