Review - Leatherheads

Too often movies try to amaze us with their visuals and overwhelm us with flashy special effects; George Clooney's Leatherheads is a welcome reprieve from that posturing and lack of substance. The film tells the story of Jimmy "Dodge" Connelly (Clooney), the owner of a struggling football team who manages to convince star college football player and World War I hero, Carter Rutherford (John Krasinkski) to play for his team in order to draw a crowd and stave off financial ruin. Meanwhile, Lexie Littleton (Renee Zellweger) is a reporter who starts out trying to discredit Rutherford and ends up caught in a bizarre little love triangle with him and Dodge.
The film's great success is its homage to classic Hollywood. Clooney has proven himself a master at recreating different periods with his past few outings. Good Night and Good Luck, especially, managed to call up the suspicion and mistrust of the 1950's and the McCarthy hearings. Leatherheads is equally successful in recreating the simplicity and style of the roaring 20s.
The beginning of the film opens with a montage of the Duluth Bulldogs and their football legacy, which consists of about thirteen fans and several players who live for the gridiron glory. One of the best things about the opening sequences is how much fun everyone is having while they're playing. It makes even non-sports fans want to grab a ball and retire to the back yard. It also makes quite the statement as the league becomes legitimized and a nazi-like commissioner is appointed who regulates the fun out of the game.
Fortunately, Clooney doesn't allow his film to be regulated at all and uses all of his star power to make it work. The film wouldn't work without the appeal of Clooney. His charm and debonairness not only exemplify his character but the entire period he has created. By far the best parts of the film are his explosive dynamics with costars Krasinski and Zellweger. Its a real credit to the film's stars that the antiquated expressions of the 1920's seem appealing rather than stiff and forced. There is a lot going on in the film but there is never any doubt that the film is all about Clooney. Clooney and class. Even the fights seem classy. One even ends in a resounding chorus of "Over There."
The film echoes the greats such as His Girl Friday and Abbot and Costello, careening from genre to genre with as much charm and dignity as Krasinski and Clooney combined. One fantastic scene begins in a speakeasy and ends with a screwball chase scene that could have easily been ripped from I Love Lucy. Ironically, the only genre that Leatherheads doesn't play to is the sports genre. There are no miraculous final goals in this film; nor are there race struggles or abusive parents. Instead, football is simply presented as a game--a means for these men to have fun. When it quits being fun for them, it quits being worth the effort. Even the final game only half-delivers what you want or expect and that half isn't given to you in glorious slow-motion and it doesn't require a superhuman feat or the overcoming of an obstacle. It's just Clooney doing what he does best--smiling his way through. He doesn't overcome anything but rather recognizes the value of what he has already had and learns to be happy with it.
Clooney's 1920s feels like the end of an era. Indeed it was, but as you watch the dissolution of the ragtag professional football league and witness the entrance of what is to become one of the most powerful institutions in America, one can't help but feel just a little whimsical remorse for the simpler times-- the class, charm, chivalry and honor. One can't help but feel regret about missing out on times when things were just what they were. A barfight was a barfight, not a court case. Football was a game, not a national obsession. And love...well, love was about love. It was about the fighting and the hurting and the banding together and despite all that, it was still just about finding somebody to spend your days with riding on a motorcycle out of sight like Dodge and Lexie. It's a bittersweet experience when the final credits roll and the lights turn on in the theater and cell phones start jangling all around you as people check to see what they have missed in the past hour and fifty seven minutes. It makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a time where, as Dodge puts it, "you're only as young as the women you feel."