OK, you're thinking, yeah, right, I hated them in high school, they got all the breaks, and now they deserve their own movie comedy? What's next? Sitcoms about Attila the Hun and Lucrezia Borgia?

If you can't summon affection for these unfairly blessed beings who tortured your teen years, at least you can laugh at them this time instead of vice versa.

Give me an S, give me a U, give me an N-N-Y. What's that spell? Kirsten Dunst, a dimpled burst of talent who deserves to graduate once and for all from these bubble-gummy efforts for the sleepover set.

But be very, very glad she's in this one. As Torrance, the dedicated new captain of the coed championship squad at Rancho Carne in San Diego, she's understandably nervous. Especially after her call for variety in the routines puts one member out of commission with a broken leg. Courtney and Whitney (Clare Kramer, Nicole Bilderback ), a pair of petite-department terrorists, question Torrance's choice for a replacement -- Missy (Eliza Dushku of TV's Buffy the Vampire Slayer), an L.A. transfer student who's a cross between Olga Korbut and Joan Jett. But Torrance asserts herself. "Missy's the poo," she tells the dissenters, "just take a whiff." For the slang-impaired, that's a compliment.

Give me a B, give me a U, give me an M-M-Y. What's that spell? Not a real word. But if it were, it would sum up Torrance's feelings when Missy drags her to see a hip-hop squad in East Compton led by Isis (Gabrielle Union ) and her posse (R&B trio Blacque). Turns out the routines devised by Torrance's predecessor were stolen from the urbanites. That's as bad as when insufferably white bread Pat Boone "borrowed" Ain't That a Shame from Fats Domino. Or, as Torrance despairs, "My entire cheerleading career has been a lie."

A cheerleader with an ethical crisis might seem as much an oxymoron as a politician with an honest streak. And the combination of Torrance's love woes (she has a beau in college but shares "cheer-sex" - aka flirting while on pep duty - with Missy's brother) and her need to do right by the rival squad steals some of the movie's irreverent bounce.

As clever as MTV vet Jessica Bendinger's script can be, Bring It On bases much of its own routine on Clueless and lesser teen romps, especially the arcane language (Torrance rules a "cheerocracy," not a democracy). The gay gags aimed at the male squad members are overdone, and the occasional forays into raunch are misplaced.

But all can be forgiven whenever two memorable characters flash by. An imperious choreographer (Ian Roberts) hired by Torrance as a last resort to come up with a new routine before the big competition comes on like a Bob Fosse for pom-pom shakers. His obsession with a move called "spirit fingers" - spread 'em and wiggle - is a stitch. Then there's Torrance's bratty brother (Cody McMains ), who makes Eddie Haskell seem like a monk. Every rude remark is golden.

Bring It On regains its own spirit fingers once the final showdown brings on some truly amazing stunts. Imperfect it may be, but as Courtney and Whitney might say, it puts the cheer in cheerleader. It could be worse. You could be watching a film based on those rah-rah morons from Saturday Night Live.

Reprinted from USA Today - By Susan Wloszczyna - August 25, 2000