From now til the end of movie history, whenever a boxing movie is made, produced, seen, written, heard of, even suggested: naturally it’s impossible to avoid comparison with the culturally ingrained Rocky franchise, with Sylvester Stallone in the lead – the archetypal kid-dun-good working class hero.
That said, there have been plenty of others that went before, and some truly great ones too: Raging Bull (1980), When We Were Kings (1996), Million Dollar Baby (2004), not forgetting Rocky Balboa (2006), the revisited and rebooted franchise-ender comeback movie. What is it about boxing that makes it such accessible fare for Hollywood, and for us? Is it the easy visual metaphor of a man struggling against the odds and ones own self? The portrayal of the duality of man as represented by the in-ring duel? Or is it something as simple as the spectacle of the sport itself: two storied gladiators walk in standing, one must fall, punches will be thrown, fast, hard, loud, brutal?
The story of The Fighter (2010) is certainly trodden territory, and even a brief synoptical look at the film seems to stray into quasi-parody; the working class blue collar journeyman boxer Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) could’ve been a contender, but is languishing in obscurity thanks to some poor career choices; stuck firmly in the shadow of his older half-brother/trainer – former prizefighter Dick “Dicky” Eklund – whose claim to fame was once going the distance with Sugar Ray Leonard – but now an intermittent drug addict, slipping through the cracks in the industrial city of Lowell, Massachusetts. After Dicky’s life takes a turn for the worst, Micky begins to stray from his management team – the close-knit family fold led by Alice (Melissa Leo), the over-bearing but well-intentioned family matriach – and into the arms of his new love, cocktail waitress Charlene (Amy Adams), who finds herself at the centre of a family storm that has Alice, her husband George and their seven daughters all at odds with one another. Right at the epicentre of a seismic shift in his own life, Micky isn’t getting any younger; after a chequered career in professional boxing, he has just one last chance to make the big time…
One of the best features of the film, The Fighter boasts an impressive, funk-rock soundtrack from the likes of Aerosmith, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Rolling Stones, with foot-tapping beats to ease the stomach-churning tension. The wonderful fight scenes are played out realistically with incredible attention to detail, and when Micky fights on HBO later in the film, at first glance you’d be pressed to know the difference if you were channel-hopping and found it by chance. But lucky you if you did. A powerful marriage of sound and vision is in full effect here, be it from the low-key feel of the films’ understated dramatic scenes, to the energetic, explosive feel of the boxing sequences.
The Fighter seems to come packaged with the warning that all things in life – like boxing – are only good when you’re winning; there’s the sense throughout that for Ward, success in his personal life has to be paid for professionally; the subject may be boxing, but the core of the movie is the honest, starkly-portrayed emotional conflict between the entire family that revolves around the decisions that Micky has to make in order to further himself. Yet the consequences of the choices that he makes throughout the film are never crystal-clear, and never clear-cut. There are no easy answers, no quick fixes, no simple solution: the line between failure and success for The Fighter is incredibly thin, and increasingly disparate. And does the title just refer to Micky Ward? It seems as though everyone in the film has someone or something to fight for, whether for the Championship belt, the symbol of all victory, or something less tangible, the soul, the heart, family, friends, love, past glories perhaps.
Though it is certainly taut throughtout, it’s rarely preachy or heavy-hearted, simply a more thoughtful, thorough, and real take on the sometimes lonely lives of people who are born fighters. Have you ever felt like you can’t escape drama and pain in your personal life? The Fighter is a snapshot of this feeling, essentially a gritty Cinderella story, but also an honest remembrance of glory days – and the sacrifices that must be made to achieve them – that director David O. Russell pulls together with some amazing central performances from the entire cast. No-one feels out of place, and it’s no surprise that Bale and Leo won Best Supporting Actor/Actress respectively at the 2010 Academy Awards. The movie was also nominated for a further five awards: Best Picture, Best Achievement in Editing, Best Writing: Original Screenplay, Best Actress for in a Supporting Role for Amy Adams, Best Achievement in Directing. Despite what anyones personal preferences might be and whatever controversies surround the Academy and their decision-making, they rarely give them out for nothing…
In conclusion, as you may have guessed, I have a lot of love for The Fighter. The semi-autobiographical tale of the ‘hometown boy-comes good’ isn’t new, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth hearing again. With The Fighter, we have a five-star film that holds up to repeat viewings and whose quiet, understated belief in the power of its own message will unquestionably stand the test of time. The performances are warm, believable and relatable and, at times, ugly. It’s impossible not to root for modest nearly-man Micky Ward, who so often seems reluctant to fight, both in and out of the ring. It’s hard not to despair at the fall from grace of his brother Dicky, the former Pride of Lowell, yet through his ticks and mannerisms and foolishness, it’s obvious that Dicky has a good heart, and that Bale relished the wounded martyr role yet again. There’s something interesting in almost all of the characters, and the ever-evolving relationships they endure with one another. What transcends the story is indeed the faith in family, and the whirlwind of family life, with all its victories, failures, and inevitable heartbreaks. Whilst demonstrating that nothing good comes easy, David O. Russell’s blistering tour de force reminds us that even the toughest fighters have to let their guard down sometimes.
Deryn O’Sullivan (@silverscene_)
Deryn Paul O'Sullivan 