Boxing Russell
Crowe and a professional cast take it to the mat in "Cinderella Man." (Film Review)
by Michael Sean McGowan
The Upside: Very fine acting.
The Downside: Why am I having the Rocky flashbacks?
If you've seen boxing movies before, and I'm not talking about whether or not you're a fan, then odds are there are some things in Cinderella Man you've seen before. It's a good thing then that it really isn't a boxing movie. Director Ron Howard has said in pre-release junkets that his take on the story of Depression-era boxer Jim Braddock is more about people finding hope during desperate times. This is hardly off the mark, but at its core Cinderella Man is first and foremost an actor's showcase. It probably isn't good sense to mix and compare 1930s drama with George Lucas, but the irony amused me somewhat. Cinderella Man is coming square off the heals of the box-office juggernaut of Star Wars and boasts as its greatest assets the two things that Star Wars lacked- rich, complex characters and actors who bring these parts to life. These are the things that keep Cinderella Man together even when it hits small stretches when the storyline becomes jumbled or Howard reverts to Apollo 13 mode and gushes on the unembarrassed schmaltz.
There's a fundamental difference between an actor and a performer. Take someone like Tom Cruise for example. Cruise isn't bad at what he does- his turn as a misogynistic self-help guru in Magnolia still leaves people speechless. But Cruise belongs to a long and swelling rank in Hollywood whose reputation and personality not only precede them, but are incorporated in everything they do. Even when he's providing a flat-out performance like in Magnolia, we're still aware the it is Cruise we're watching. Someone like Russell Crowe, in contrast, buries himself so deeply in his characters there never seems to be a way out. Whether he's taking on the role of a brilliant mathematician fending off the demons of schizophrenia, a wise and noble British sea captain, or a down-on-his luck boxer who takes back to the ring to provide for his family, Crowe almost becomes an artistic con-man: someone whose able to create a new and unique personality out of thin air and get people to buy along. There isn't a second in Cinderella Man that his performance rings false- everything from the flawless Jersey accent to his mastery of Cliff Hollingsworth's crackerjack dialogue is pure A-game.
Cinderella Man opens prior to the stock market crash of 1929 when Braddock was a name and a force in the boxing world to be reckoned with and he and his wife Mae (Renee Zellweger) were making a comfortable living. Oddly, the movie suddenly skips like a jarred record player to 1933, with everything that lead to Braddock's professional and economic downfall recounted in a couple of awkward lines of pick-up dialogue. Already at 144 minutes, I can understand Howard not wanting to pad the story too much, however there is a fair amount of cognitive disconnect in seeing a man who one minute is being toasted as one of America's premier athletes and the next has packed his family into a tenement apartment while he has to shill for jobs down at the docks day after day. The final set-back comes when a broken hand leads Braddock to be de-licensed by the boxing commission, taking away his ability to even earn lean purses for a fight.
But the fighting, the boxing are all incidental. If its take on the thrill of victory seems a bit facile, its sense of desperation that permeated the culture in the 1930s is far more real and potent. This comes through the best in the smaller moments, like when Braddock covers the cast cradling his broken arm with shoe polish so it doesn't exclude him from picking up work, or when Mae and the kids break wood planking off a road sign to make a fire after their gas and electricity are shut off in the dead of winter. Crowe's take on Braddock is of a prideful man, he resists sending his kids away even when the cold threatens their health, but a man who is willing to let his pride take a backseat to his devotion to his family. There is a scene where Braddock, with hat in hand, returns to the nest of the very boxing big wigs who cast him out in the first place. The pitch of the scene is perfect; Braddock isn't too proud to look for help in keeping his kids warm and fed, but he refuses to feel sorry for himself. This isn't charity to him. This is survival.
The turnaround comes when Braddock is picked as a fill-in for an exhibition match and in front of a stunned crowd of onlookers and reporters defeats a boxer younger and faster than him. Quickly he becomes more than an athlete on the rebound- he becomes a symbol to those who have lost everything that good fortune can shine a light in even the darkest places.
Crowe is Cinderella Man's anchor, but it is hardly his show alone. Zellweger is impressive as Braddock's moxie-driven wife who, in the end, just wants to see her husband come home at the end of the day. Also packing a punch is Paul Giamatti (Sideways) as Braddock's stubbornly loyal manager. Like Crowe, Giamatti seems right at home with the dialogue and the moments where he and Crowe act off each other are the movie's best.
The acting serves as a tough enough blanket to keep us from caring when the plot begins to resemble pure hokum melodrama. I got to ask, is it possible nowadays to even make a boxing movie that doesn't climax with a fight against some blisteringly narcissistic opponent who has killed in the ring? The fact that all of this is based on history rather than a screenwriter's imagination doesn't do much to hide the transparentness of this ploy. Also, Howard's grip on the narrative seems a little shaky at times. As with the Braddock's downfall, a few times we're caught up with past events with some stilted dialogue. And then there are those curious subtitles- the ones that keep popping up to tell us who Braddock is fighting, even long after it's already been established. I do have to give Howard credit, though, the matches feel real. I've seen plenty of other on-screen fights where it looked like people were holding back to keep from doing real damage, but the editing and cinematography here are fluid and take nothing for granted. I also liked how the fights actually seemed to be based on some degree of strategy rather than being hyper-edited montages of flying fists.
Cinderella Man never quite sheds its "uplifting drama" wrapping to distance itself completely from cliche- unlike Martin Scorcese's epic The Aviator which was juiced on nothing more than Howard Hughes' enigmatic personality. However it does feature some of the best acting (outside of Crash) you've seen this year, and some of the best you're likely to see for a little while, at least. Cinderella Man isn't a knockout- but you'll stay with it for fifteen rounds and not regret it in the end, either. B+
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