I was 17 in 1990; I remember Italia 90 with more fondness than any tournament before or since. I watched virtually every match and it came at a perfect time in my life. And I loved Pete Davies' book, All Played Out (although that now appears to have changed its name to One Night in Turin as well). This, then, is the film of the book.
And the archive footage is put together very well. But why the intrusive and (let's be honest, not very well done) reconstructions? The footage is supplemented by close up shots of feet kicking footballs, snappers taking pictures and, most bizarrely, a pervy reporter leering through a door at a footballer in bed with a page 3 lovely. It's just weird. Gary Oldman's commentary is also strangely laddish when it doesn't need to be. In places it was halfway towards Danny Dyers bosh bosh bosh.
And that is not to say that, overall, it's not highly enjoyable. Particularly if, like me, you are the right age to remember all of this. But the film makers made some really odd choices along the way