The Replacements

Herald rating: * *

Cast: Keanu Reeves, Gene Hackman, Brooke Langton.

Director: Howard Deutch.

Rating: M (violence, offensive language).

Running time: 118 mins.

Screening: Village, Hoyts cinemas.

Review: Russell Baillie

Q: What do you call Keanu Reeves in a helmet?

A: Hardwood.

Yes, there are better jokes in The Replacements, which stars Reeves as a "couldabeen" American football star who gets a second chance at the big time, but not enough of them to liven up its formulaic clunkiness.

There's certainly not enough to sustain all those seemingly looped scenes of on-field action - 39-hut!, throw, crash, bang, wallop, touchdown! And repeat until injury time, something this movie has half an hour too much of.

It all kicks off with Gene Hackman being hired as the coach to a team of ring-ins after NFL team the Washington Sentinels stage a strike with four games to go to the playoffs.

Hackman soon hires a predictably motley but highly colourful crew including Reeves as the improbably named Steve Falco, a chainsmoking Welsh goalkicker, a battering-ram police officer, a jailbird (Wilkinson), a sumo wrestler, a deaf but gifted player, a couple of musicbiz bodyguards ... about here the phrase "with hilarious results" should pop up. If only.

They train hard, they bond, they get into scraps with the arrogant pros whose jobs they are pinching, while Falco finds the Sentinels' head cheerleader (Melrose Place alumni Langton) may in fact be the perfect woman. Not only does she dance with pompoms, she knows all about football - and owns her own bar.

Hackman might bring some of his trademark gravitas to his role but there's a definite feeling that he's hanging round only until the cheque clears, while Reeves certainly looks the part, especially once he gets the helmet, the shirt, and all that padding. Hardwood but sensitive with it.

It's not helped by a semi-concussed script or a soundtrack which can sound like a jukebox in an earthquake in its attempts to keep the stop-start sports action ripping along in between the speeches about teamwork, pride, second chances, oh, and teamwork.

Not a lot of discussion about the politics of pro sports, though calling this The Scabs probably would have caused some problems in marketing.

There is, however, some irony available if you consider this movie's attempts at commenting on rich sports stars who have traded their passion for the game for seven-figure salaries and lost touch with the fans.

You could say the same about those who waste their handsomely rewarded talents making movies as bad as this.

Sports fans deserve better of their heroes, says The Replacements, failing to realise that movie fans deserve the same sort of respect.