Director: David O Russell
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo
The One Where The Fighter Is A Contender For Film Of The Year
Do you like Mark Wahlberg? Not just in a Boogie Nights way. Maybe when you fancy a cop thriller you turn to The Corrupter? Or when you fancy watching a Reese Witherspoon film you opt for Fear, rather than Legally Blonde?
The reason I ask is I think it’s important to your enjoyment of The Fighter. This is a Christian Bale masterpiece, but Marky Mark anchors the film. (I had wondered how much of Bales GG acceptance speech was right, that Marks performance makes Bales work. All true).
Marky Mark isn’t going to change your mind here, if you still can’t forgive him for The Happening (“Think about the Bees!”). If you can’t relate to this being a project he has tried six years to get onto the screen, then in essence, you won’t be able to love the film. It’s not so much that you have no heart, more that you will feel on the periphery the whole time.
The sweat and tears are all on the screen. So much so, that The Fighter may break the golden rule on boxing movies for me. It may have a rewatchability factor. Million Dollar Baby? Loved it. Bought the DVD. Never watched it. Cinderella Man? Same.
There are exceptions to that rule, of course, but Rocky III and IV were of their time. The Fighter, with its themes of why men box… and of whom else it affects… well, I honestly think it has something new to say.
Read on after the break for the rest of the review.
Bale is superb. I’d like to congratulate him on his Oscar, because he’s taking it home in a few weeks.
What surprised me was how much of a character he created in Dicky.
Yeah, yeah, it’s based on real people – but this is just about two ordinary guys trying to become the best at what they do. The scenes where Bale is in his crack den resonate far more than the boxing scenes, for me. When he is released from jail, and hugs his son, there is genuine depth there. Before that, when the documentary of his “comeback” is finally shown, in front of his inmates, again the film steps up a gear. He sees his son in the background, as he is sentenced in court, trying to play it cool. Rather than let it play out, he unplugs the TV and starts a brawl with the inmates, non-too pleased at losing their one bit of TV for the week.
For that stint in jail, Bale all but disappears. What surprised me again, was that the film didn’t suffer. By now Amy Adams was Marky Marks sparring partner, and the rivalry with his family, and sisters, is hilarious.
At one point, where they fight on the front yard, I thought I may have been transported back home, engrossed in My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. To be fair to David O Russell, I thought he pitched the laughter just right. We’re under no illusions that the real trials and tribulations for Marky Mark lie at home. The scene where the documentary crew tries to understand who is related to whom is a classic in comedy confusion.
David O Russell is a bit head mental, isn’t he? I remember when the stories leaked that Clooney and he had had a fight on Three Kings. Then, due to the magic of the Internet, we got to see that breakdown on the set of I Heart Huckabee’s, too. So the idea of him working with Bale was always going to be an intriguing one – and one that could have gone either way.
I think the mutual respect between the two is obvious. Bale is given all of the freedom he needs, to embody the role. So much so, that the scenes that open and close the film, that feel so real, were filmed with just the three of them, and were adlibbed. When Bale needs to leave, that was all true. Not acting. And through out the film, it suddenly hits home… this is a documentary of a documentary if anything. Everything is shot with the camera as if it were mounted on the shoulder. It’s in the thick of the action, all of the time. Two shots made me punch the air. One, when the opening title card comes up, as the camera zooms backwards all of the way down the streets of Lowe, leaving our two leads in the distance. Then the second, which has the camera, follow the old school phone wire until it reaches Marky Marks fearsome Mum. (Who is exceptional, but not in it enough to get the Oscar for me).
Amy Adams centers the film far better than she is getting credit for. When Marky Mark gets badly beaten, and doesn’t call her, she storms round to his house. The music turned to something reminiscent of Goldenthals Heat. It really worked, and added another layer of depth.
So why isn’t The Fighter my film of the year, so far?
Well, if we’re honest, for the UK at least, the start to 2011 has been incredible. 127 Hours, Black Swan, The Fighter, True Grit. For me, until I get the Bluey, I can’t call whether this film will be rewatched as much as I will rewatch Black Swan. And on that basis alone, I’m not sure I could say it will win. Certainly not by a KO, anyway.
I think there is a Directors Cut bubbling underneath the surface, too. If that shows us more of why Dicky turned to drugs in the first place, it would be a huge start. With out that, it remains a sad story of one Brothers chance at the title that he blew. Trying to live his life through his Brothers title shot, he too gets a shot at redemption. It does work, but I was left more intrigued as to how he (Dicky/Bale), had ended up in that place at all. Especially as his Mum didn’t seem to know.
I’m conscious that I haven’t talked too much about the boxing itself, but that is for two reasons. One, I don’t think this is a film about boxing. Two, What there is feels part of the same documentary. So the camera I mentioned, is still sat on their shoulders. Everything is tightly shot. The sweat is on the screen. As ever with this film, and where it reminded me a lot of The Wrester, was in the comeback fight. As the venue was so small, there were no dressing rooms. The bit where Marky Mark realizes he needs to cross the street in his robe is brilliant. Then, in the corridor, he sees his opponent.
Embarrassed, and another perfect comedy beat, “Umm… Good luck”, he says. Before beating seven bells out of him in the ring.
Here I go again, on my own!
