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[lolwut]

...is a romantic comedy that I didn't realise was a romantic comedy until most of an hour had passed, which is when it became recognisably formulaic. The two male leads are really extremely watchable, and the dialogue is delivered in a way that is pretty generally decent, even if the dialogue only above-average to great when compared with the rest of the genre, as opposed to film in general. The cinematography delivers plenty of tastefully clothed nubile ass (as well as some most excellent male mostly nudity), though no real great location shots. I don't remember much about the music beyond there being some I guess?

Also lesbians.

Anyway, as films featuring cheerleaders in a primary role go, this is the best one out there.

Anyone else seen it?

[Joseph]

Nope.  I did read this review though.  It stuck in my mind pretty well, since it was one of the harsher reviews I've seen Ebert write.  I have to say, your description doesn't make it sound any better, just like any other teen high school comedy.

[Tom]

Anyway, as films featuring cheerleaders in a primary role go, this is the best one out there.

Really? But hey, as far as movies go that, still isn't a ringing or even positive endorsement.

[KvP]

I'd say But I'm a Cheerleader! or whatever it's called is a better film. I can say that without having seen this one.

Just as I'd remembered, the AV Club gave it their coveted F rating.

... Problem is, Fired Up seriously miscalculates D’Agosto and Olsen’s frat-guy magnetism. Their rapid-fire banter trades heavily in snarky pop-culture references, homo jokes, and catchphrases like “You have to risk it to get the biscuit.” On the off chance that anyone out there would want to spend time with guys like this—and would appreciate a bonus plug for Staples’ recycled paper products, too—this movie has been made just for them.

[Alex C]

I always feel kinda bad for Ebert when he writes a review like that. I just imagine him sitting grimly in the theater, scribbling the odd bitter note and cursing his sense of professionalism-- perhaps taking the occasional mournful pull from a tasteful flask stowed in his coat pocket. He's a better man than I, that's for sure; if I were a 66 year old Pullitzer winner with failing health, I'd probably start responding to bad movies by finding the director's house and pooping in the driveway.