Looking for a textbook definition of ‘noble failure’? Spin this up… Well, maybe ‘failure’ is a bit strong – unless you’re one of the bean-counters who groaned when this A-list outing stuttered to $31m at the US box office. Clearly, the Apatow crowd weren’t down with a ’20s-set screwball throwback that homages such names as George Cukor, Preston Sturges and the Keystone Kops. Defiantly low-concept, George Clooney’s third go behind the camera is purpose-built for cine-literate grown-ups.

Trouble is, Leatherheads struggles on its own terms. Often you can all but see the flop-sweat on the actors as they gurn and rictus-grin their way through slapstick routines that should come off as effortless and un-choreographed. To boot, Clooney can’t keep up with the rat-a-tat pace of a His Girl Friday or Hail The Conquering Hero – thanks to a script (by sports journos Duncan Brantley and Rick Reilly) that’s at pains to twine its threads (love-triangle romance, disputed war-heroism, the birth of pro US football) into a clear-cut, propulsive throughline.

As a result, the question of whether college sports star Carter Rutherford ( John Krasinski) can salvage the ailing Duluth Bulldogs is never that pressing. It’s an affable watch, though. If there’s one old-school quality that Clooney doesn’t fail to nail, it’s the Capra-esque charm. As storyweaver, he sides with the little guy against the big-money interests muscling in on the pigskin game. As floundering football hero Dodge, he makes up for the mugging whenever there’s a playful, fizzy, seductive moment with Renée Zellweger’s Rosalind Russell-esque newshound. You’d almost swear the two had some history off-screen…

DVD Extras: Deleted scenes