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George Clooney, Leatherheads
04/06/2008 George Clooney's Leatherheads, which is receiving more attention for the resulting fallout between Clooney and the WGA than for being a good film, is a mildly entertaining romantic comedy that has heart, a can-do spirit, and a nice pace but fails to recapture the spunk of the classic screwballs on which it was based. Clooney, who not only directed, produced, and wrote Leatherheads, plays our lead character, Dodge Connelly, an aging football star determined to lead his team to packed stadiums and glory. It's the 1920s and though college football is booming, pro football is, for some strange reason, being ignored. Connelly calls it quits when his poorly-funded team loses what little financial backing it had, reluctant to admit that pro football is facing a total collapse. Catching wind of young college player and war hero Carter "The Bullet" Rutherford, Connelly sees an opportunity to bring his team back to the field and make pro football a success. Carter, loved by the whole nation, is a Princeton student and a soldier of WWI (never mind the chronology plot holes there) known for single-handedly forcing a group of German soldiers to surrender, and Connelly wants him to play for his Duluth Bulldogs. What he doesn't count on is the appearance and involvement of Lexie Littleton, a journalist has been sent by the Chicago Tribune to debunk Rutherford's war story and catch him when he "cooks his own goose." Not surprisingly, both Connelly and Rutherford fall for the confident woman, giving Connelly another thing to fight for and making Carter weak enough to confess the truth about his heroism. As Rutherford gains popularity for pro football, however, the free-wheeling game that Connelly has known and loved becomes bogged down with rules and regulations. Thus, he must fight to keep his team together, help expose Rutherford for who he really is, and get the girl of his dreams. Don't worry though; like any screwball character, he's got more than a few tricks up his sleeve to make sure everything gets tied up neatly at the end. Leatherheads features all the makings of a good screwball comedy, but unfortunately falls short. Clooney could become a contemporary Cary Grant if he pushed himself just a little farther; he can do the slapstick and make the right faces, but the script doesn't do him justice. Perhaps his performance would have been sharpened had his female co-star been better cast. Though Renee Zellweger shined as Roxie in period piece Chicago, she doesn't possess the moxie of Rosalind Russell's Hildy in His Girl Friday or the undeniable charm of Katharine Hepburn's Susan in Bringing Up Baby. Her attempts at comedy feel forced while her delivery falls flat. John Krasinski plays the charming and goofy Rutherford well, but the script doesn't offer him the opportunity to dig any deeper. His last-minute confession lacks emotion after playing an "aw, shucks" war hero for the whole film. It seems as though Leatherheads wants to show the line between the good ol' days of football without rules and the standardization and hiring of commissioners, agents, and managers of the future, but by taking Dodge's side, the film neglects to realize that some of those regulations are good. By the end, though, it doesn't seem to matter, as the simple story that somehow metamorphosed into a confusing plot pushes all of that sports stuff to the side in the interest of turning that tough-as-nails woman in the newsroom into a wife. This is Clooney's third film as director, and though he definitely has the talent to turn out a good and enjoyable film, comedy may not be his thing. For all of the attention to detail in respect to the 1920s setting and costuming, Leatherheads isn't much fun. The first scene between Lexie and Dodge is nearly perfect; snarky lines are volleyed between the two at a fast-pace, but the film fumbles after that and fails to score. In the end, though the romantic element is neatly tied up, the lack of enough tension between the two leading up to that final scene leaves the viewer unsatisfied. Leatherheads has had a long journey to the screen, beginning with the script being passed to Clooney by director and friend Steven Soderbergh over a decade ago, and ending with the actor/director/producer going financial core from the WGA after an unfair ruling that left him without a writing credit. In the end, this film may not have been worth Clooney's tete-a-tete with the guild, and he should leave his failure to achieve the balance between slapstick and quick wit that made the films of Howard Hawks and Ernst Lubitsch so enjoyable to be credited to someone else. My guess is that women will go see the Leatherheads just to have an excuse to look at George Clooney and his dazzling smile, and that they will drag husbands and boyfriends along with the promise of football, but if for a good romantic comedy, check out some of the classics, because, though light and entertaining, Leatherheads is not memorable. Falling somewhere in between a cheesy romantic comedy of the contemporary era and a clever screwball of the 1940s, Leatherheads pulls viewers into the story but doesn't create enough reason to root for either side. Comments [post a comment]
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Friday, July 25, 2008
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