"The Replacements" tries to set some kind of record for regurgitating sports movie cliches faster than any film that's run before. Basically "Major League" for football, this formulaic comedy is quick enough to recycle the grossest joke from the last gridiron film, "Any Given Sunday," the one about throwing up on the field in the middle of the big game.
     But that's about as swift as "The Replacements" gets.
     In this one, a faux NFL goes on strike late in the season, just as the Washington Sentinels are nearing a long-withheld shot at a playoff berth. The team's sneaky owner (Jack Warden) hires coach Jimmy McGinty (Gene Hackman), whose stellar career was cut short by "that Dallas mess," to put together a winning scab team. In a week.
     Jimmy's first hire is Shane Falco (Keanu Reeves), an exceptional college quarterback whose pro chances were cut short by that "Sugar Bowl choke" nobody ever seems to forget. A contingent of lovably eccentric losers suits up in his wake. There's a receiver who can't catch (Orlando Jones), a psychopathic SWAT cop (Jon Favreau), assorted racial caricatures that include gun-totin' twin bodyguards and a sumo wrestler and, just to make for a complete entertainment experience, a deaf guy.
     For some reason, the cheerleaders strike along with the athletes, probably so there can be funny/degrading auditions for new pep squad members. This also provides an excuse for hiring dancers from a local strip club, whose distinctive routines director Howard Deutch is so evidently fond of he cuts in more and more shots of them as the film wears on.
     Of course, Brooke Langton's nice-gal cheer choreographer provides love interest and moral support for the uncertain Reeves character. And he needs all of the latter he can get, even though there's no doubt from the kickoff that he'll lead his screwballs to self-esteem and glory. Outside of these prescribed calculations, there are some mildly interesting observations on the prima donna natures of overpaid professional athletes. Then again, that's probably just smoke for the movie's real, union-bashing agenda.
     At this point, it's become almost as tedious to note that Reeves gives a passable performance (the onetime "Whoa!" dude has been doing that for years) as it is to mention that Hackman once again walks through another paycheck (which the sporadically great actor has been doing for decades now). But we'll acknowledge, for the record, that that's what both stars do. Everyone else inhabits stereotypes like the animated cutout writer Vince McKewin imagined.
     John Madden and Pat Summerall appear as themselves in an attempt to reinforce the illusion that real football is being played. Their efforts are undermined by the uncharacteristically inept cinematography of Tak Fujimoto ("The Sixth Sense," "The Silence of the Lambs") which, somewhat due to the film's lapdance editing, demonstrates little understanding of how the game actually works.
     What is certainly understood here, however, is the mechanics of superficial sport comedy uplift. This probably earns points in some studio playbook, if not on the screen where it counts.