That Boxing Movie You’ve Already Seen
August 8, 2015
Southpaw (2015).
D: Antoine Fuqua. DP: Mauro Fiore. W: Kurt Sutter. Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal/Rachel McAdams/Forest Whitaker/Oona Laurence/50 Cent/Naomie Harris/Victor Ortiz/Miguel Gomez.
Written by the creator of the FX series Sons of Anarchy, Kurt Sutter’s scripted Southpaw chronicles Billy Hope (blatant pun) whose supportive wife is tragically killed and he must put his life back together in order to gain custody of his daughter. All this was revealed in most theatrical trailers so there is not much surprise here.
It is difficult not to compare Southpaw with other successful boxing films. From Oscar winning performances in 2010’s The Fighter to 2004’s Million Dollar Baby to the entire Rocky franchise, there are plenty to choose from. Plus all the other films who’ve unsuccessfully punched their way through this sport. It is admirable to attempt to do something new here, melodrama be dammed. Yet Southpaw falls short because it simply feels like other films out there.
That being said hands down I loved Rachel McAdams as Maureen or Mo, Billy’s long life and love. From her fake nails to her lace up heals she has the sex and sass I wish I had seen more of from say Jessica Chastain in A Most Violent Year. Not on screen for long she makes enough of an impression for Billy’s, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, agony and heartache at the loss of her to feel genuine. Following a ‘fall from grace’ and ‘underdog rebound’ three act structure, Southpaw undulates with effort to highlight Gyllenhaal’s impressive boxing physique. It is simply not enough. His physicality is surely on point, but the meat of who Billy is dies with his wife and without her he lacks depth. His scenes with his daughter Leila (Oona Laurence) are probably his best. I wonder after Foxcatcher if Channing Tatum would have been the more believable choice? At least Eminem was not in it as planned.
Lastly, despite it’s predictability the boxing scenes are fabulously filmed and although not shot in Madison Square Garden or Vegas, deftly disguised. Yet much like Billy’s original offensive boxing strategy you can see the film’s choices from miles away. If not that then you can at least see 50 cent’s fedora trying to add character to his stereotypical friend whose in it for the money. I’m not going to even bother mentioning Forest Whitaker.
Unsettling the Olympic Dream
January 19, 2015
Foxcatcher (2014).
D: Bennett Miller. W: E. Max Frye & Dan Futterman. DP: Greig Fraser. Starring: Steve Carell/Channing Tatum/Mark Ruffalo/Sienna Miller/Vanessa Redgrave/Anthony Michael Hall.
Slated to be released in 2013, Foxcatcher was delayed for more editing time then did a festival circuit this past year. The film follows the American Schultz brothers, 1984 Olympic wrestling gold medalists looking to continue their success. Specifically, Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum) who wants to break out from his big brother’s Dave (Mark Ruffalo) shadow. He is offered sponsorship and a training facility by rich patriot John du Pont (Steve Carell) in preparation for the 1988 games.
Bennett Miller (Moneyball, Capote) delves into true story space again as he investigates a sensational headline that ends his film. Without delving anymore into the plot, the film’s culmination will certainly depend on the audience’s knowledge of these events. However, Foxcatcher is ultimately a study of performance. Without music or a score introduced until around thirty minutes in, Miller’s world is stark and tense.
Ruthlessly physical and sporting a wrestler’s gait, Tatum is great here. His constraint of energy and chemistry with Ruffalo are a wonderful core anchoring for the film. Their physicality with each other is full of emotional expressions, with Ruffalo’s tenderness nearly heart breaking. Amidst this brotherhood lurks Carell who is unsettling in every frame. Not only due to his facial transformation, but his stillness and sly sickness that oozes from his scenes. These three men create such a layered environment, no one knows who is thinking what anymore. Sadly the women are relegated to the sidelines, specifically Sienna Miller is a waste here.
In the end what is memorable about Foxcatcher is it’s ambiguity. Not a single element of the film alludes to a conclusion or provides answers for the character’s choices. Compared to other biopics or tragedies this feels refreshing, unsettling, and discomforting. In a way the filmmaking generates a sensory experience that mimics the baffling events, or what they might have been like to see unfold. Miller’s refusal to take the film down other tangential plot lines saves Foxcatcher and allows the performances to burn.