'Leatherheads'

Rating:

BY RAFER GUZMÁN | rafer.guzman@newsday.com

April 4, 2008

Silver-haired, square-jawed and twinkly eyed, George Clooney doesn't just look like a product of the Hollywood studio system circa 1930. He can direct like one, too.

Both behind and before the camera, Clooney imbues "Leatherheads," a romantic comedy set in 1925 during the pre-television, pre-Astroturf (but not pre-scandal) era of professional football, with an irresistible charm and intelligence, raising it far above the average period piece. The gaberdine trousers, cloche hats and even the squeaky leather helmets are all pretty to look at, but Clooney conjures up something that can't be ordered from the wardrobe department: the bubbly, pixilated spirit of an old-fashioned screwball comedy.

Clooney plays Dodge Connolly, the not-so-young leader of the hard-luck Duluth Bulldogs, who travel the pro circuit like pool hustlers, going from town to muddy town picking up cash by playing other grungy teams. Clooney is perfectly cast as one of those brash American fellas with more moxie than manners, but who - underneath all that mud - has more class than the rich swells who mock him.

When the Bulldogs fall on even harder times, Connolly bluffs his way into a meeting with Carter Rutherford (John Krasinski of NBC's "The Office"), a hunky Ivy League football hero who draws crowds of thousands to his games. He's also a war hero, having single-handedly conquered a troop of Germans during the Great War. Even as Rutherford agrees to play for Connolly's Bulldogs, he's being sweet-talked by a lovely but hard-boiled reporter, Lexie Littleton (Renée Zellweger), who smells something fishy in his war tale. Soon, of course, the two men are vying for her affections.

It's all improbable, and the outcome predictable, but in the best and most delightful tradition of old comedies like "His Girl Friday," "Bringing Up Baby" and "Holiday." Once the film sets its jalopy of a plot in motion, the fun comes in the potholes, roadblocks and near-collisions that throw you around in your seat. Much of the credit goes to the script, by Duncan Brantley and Rick Reilly, two sports reporters and first-time screenwriters, who seal up the gaps with plenty of one-liners, rapid-fire repartee and gentle slapstick.

Clooney's cast mates are a game lot, but they can't quite match his innate feel for classic zaniness. Whenever Clooney lobs a zinger, Zellweger barely returns the serve; their Grant-Hepburn friction creates smoke but never fire. And Krasinski, saddled with a cipher of a character, doesn't get enough chances to muss up his hair. (Jonathan Pryce, on the other hand, is great fun as a smarmy sports agent who practically oozes eel juice on the screen.)

But these are small complaints. Once upon a time, Hollywood produced smart, light comedies like this as a matter of course. These days, "Leatherheads" seems like a gift.

LEATHERHEADS (PG-13). George Clooney directs and stars in this smart, charming, sports-themed romantic comedy. With Renée Zellweger, John Krasinski, Jonathan Pryce. Look for soundtrack composer Randy Newman as a speakeasy pianist. 1:54 (mild language). At area theaters.