If you believe what Leatherheads is selling, the behemoth that is the NFL originated in a little tale of love triangles and fat and/or old (George Clooney) and/or young and handsome (Jon Krasinski) men beating each other with no rules (seriously; punch the referee and you're guaranteed a spot on the team). And don't forget the third part of that love triangle: the female sportswriter (Renee Zellwegger). How quaint. We are supposed to believe that Zellwegger's character is so ahead of her time, what with her man's job in a man's world, and her sarcasm. Take, for example, this exchange: Clooney says, "Certain jobs are always going to be done by men." Zellwegger replies, sarcastically, "Big, strapping men?" She's so revolutionary. Except for the part where she is in a love triangle with these two men instead of being, you know, above that. The female sportswriter obviously wants to end up with one football player or another. What else would be the point of that career choice? It's full of clichés (even the fistfights are everything we've seen before) and preciousness and romantic kisses and awkward silences. Thank you, Hollywood, for this not-at-all-refreshing take on the same-old story. You can cover it in mud, a leather helmet, and even George Clooney, but don't let it fool you: It's still just another silly romantic comedy.--DeAnn Welker

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