ŠUniversal
Pictures
John Krasinski in
Leatherheads.
by John P.
McCarthy, Gazette
Movie Critic
Leatherheads
Directed by: George Clooney
Running Time: 114 minutes
Principal Actors:
George Clooney — Dodge Connolly
Renee Zellweger — Lexie Littleton
John Krasinski — Carter Rutherford
Rated: PG-13
Grade: ** (out of 5)
The flimsy headgear worn by
football players in the 1920s provided little
protection from injury. Does that explain how
the sepia-tinged Leatherheads came to be so
slaphappy? Sure, the game was brutal back then
-- sorely in need of rules, proper helmets and
fans -- but that’s no excuse for dumbing-it down
to the level of a Three Stooges short
subject, minus the timing.
Star George Clooney must have sustained a
concussion prior to filming, before he made the
decision to direct himself. There are exceptions
to the rule that actors should avoid directing
themselves. Clooney’s Good Night and Good
Luck is one of them; Leatherheads is
not.
It would take a deft, more experienced hand to
meld dunderheaded jock humor and sophisticated
screwball comedy. NFL legend George Halas and
director Howard Hawks are both spinning in their
graves. Only the team behind Semi-Pro is
laughing.
Halas -- player-coach for the Chicago Bears
during the era this picture takes place -- might
have sympathized with Clooney’s character Dodge
Connolly, an older ballplayer intent on
salvaging his career and the fortunes of his
Decatur Bulldogs. With franchises folding left
and right, Dodge convinces a World War I hero
and Princeton University football sensation
Carter Rutherford (John Krasinski) to join the
squad, thereby helping to legitimize the nascent
league and put fans in the stands.
With an eye toward emulating the manically
literate comedy of a classic such as Hawks’
His Girl Friday or Bringing Up Baby, Clooney
the director drafted Renee Zellweger to play
Lexie Littleton, a quick-witted newspaper
reporter assigned by her editor at the Chicago
Tribune to tear down Rutherford’s story. (A
reference to Sergeant York during the climactic
game suggests that the Hawks connection was
intentional, since the soldier’s exploits became
the subject of another celebrated Hawks movie.)
This combination might have worked, given a
better playbook. Evidently, screenwriters Duncan
Brantley and Rick Reilly also sustained
concussions. They make a hash of both aspects of
the premise, fumbling the sports angle and the
romantic triangle that develop between the three
lead characters.
The story doesn’t make a lot of sense and no one
seems to mind. The lazily tossed social
commentary and half-hearted attempt to depict
the history of the game are un-catchable.
Rutherford’s rapacious agent (Jonathan Pryce) is
in the wrong movie and Stephen Root’s sloshed
sports reporter has definitely suffered head
trauma.
It’s telling that Leatherheads is being
released during the opening week of the baseball
season and not in the autumn when football
dominates and prestige movies bow. The national
pastime has nothing to worry about. As much as I
was hoping it would be a game effort, I’d
quick-kick Leatherheads on any given
Sunday.
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