Directed by George Clooney

Comedy, football picture, romance, this is George Clooney's third foray into directing. His first, the interesting but rather odd Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, and his second, the classy Oscar winning Goodnight and Good Luck, coupled with the interesting, grown-up and non-establishment films he's been producing and performing in, such as Syriana, Michael Clayton, A Scanner Darkly, make it clear there's a considerable talent there. But let your heart rule your head, and... here's a film so warm hearted, amiable, lovingly and beautifully made, you really want to sit back and enjoy it. But I didn't, much.

Clooney's homage to the screwball comedies of Hollywood's golden age raised a few smiles but scarcely a laugh, and all too often a yawn and a glance at my watch. The story of over-the-hill footballer Dodge Connelly (Clooney) and his attempt to keep his failing team from Deluth afloat with the introduction of World War I hero Bullet Rutherford, (John Krasinski) bright star of college football, has its moments, in this loving look at the sprawling mess that was professional football in the 20s. Krasinski, well known in the States as Jim Halpert (the Martin Freeman role) from The Office, is a real find, an ingenu, everyman kind of face that is not conventionally handsome but delightful to watch. (When was Clooney last out-charisma-ed on screen?).

But of the four qualities you might look for in a film like this - romance, wit, physical comedy and fond nostalgia - all but the last are lacking. As far as romance goes we have Renee Zellweger badly miscast as the hard-bitten wisecracking female reporter, Lexie Littleton. Sadly between her and Clooney there is zero chemistry - strange, considering Clooney is as awash as ever with charm hormones. (He's actually much better at doing a Cary Grant against Catherine Zeta Jones in the Coen Brothers' less than satisfactory Intolerable Cruelty). As is usually the case with Renee, (is it just me?) I find the only way she can emote is by screwing up her face and puckering up her cute little mouth. Certainly here the gamut of her acting is the ‘from A-B' standard. Rosalind Russell or Katharine Hepburn she ain't. She's better served by her wardrobe than her lines, which are lukewarm rather than ice-pick sharp. One or two one-liners raise a smile, but that's about it.

So much for romance and wit, then. The homelier comedy of fat blokes in football gear, lots of daft men slipping over in mud and hapless drunks fighting in bars is all very well, but it all lasts that little bit too long, and just isn't original enough to more than smile at. I can't even bear to remember the sequence where Clooney and Zellwegger dress as cops to escape a police raid on a speakeasy, it's just so embarrassing, she, all artfully mussed up hair, peeking a la Goldie Hawn from a beneath a helmet, he, big blue eyes rolling, mugging as desperately as if he were in a silent comedy... . Still, there are some small pleasures to be found in Clooney's use of obscure(or even made up?) football terms - what on earth is a Crusty Bob?

So, what are we left with? Some pleasing performances, a painstakingly beautiful period look, and a feeling of warm nostalgia for the good old days - of footballing, and of film making. It's a shame, George, it's obviously meant with affection, but it just doesn't work. Although perhaps it does do the originals a favour by showing just what clever, precision creations they were.

Seen at Empire Cinema, Newcastle, April 9 2008