Cinderella Man

Go see Cinderella Man. It matches the hype. Ron Howard’s true-life tale of Depression-era boxer James Braddock hits its marks nearly flawlessly. Russell Crowe solidifies himself as one of the truly great actors of our time as he gives emotional heft to the role of a down-on-his-luck heavyweight who through a series of coincidences and his own effort manages to gain a shot at the heavyweight championship against the seemingly indomitable Max Baer (perhaps best seen as his generation’s Sonny Liston or Mike Tyson, a seemingly indomitable fighter who had never been seriously challenged, and who was as much schoolyard bully as impenetrable force). In keeping with the title of the film (Spoiler alert! Although in fairness, no more so than giving away the ending of any historically-based movie) Braddock won in a slugfest, taking a heavyweight championship that he would hold for two years, until Joe Louis wrote his own fairybook tale.

Crowe is wonderful, and Renee Zellweger, who with each passing year looks more and more like one of those apple dolls we used to make every fall in New England, except maybe she’s a bit cuter, grows into her role as Braddock’s loving and concerned wife. (Some of her lines seem stolen from the Adrian Balboa school of concerned spouses). Paul Giamatti continues his run of excellence as Crowe’s manager. He is just oily enough to carry the part but just human enough to be likeable. Craig Bierko is the wonderfully unlikeable Max Baer.

The area of the film of most significance to historians (other than the boxing aspects) is the depiction of the Depression. Howard manages to present an era that is grim, but also human. Americans survived in the 1930s, and it seems to me that the easiest thing to do as a filmmaker (or writer for that matter) is to make the era so unremittingly, indeed cartoonishly, wretched that it almost defies credibility. The Depression tableaux rang true for me. I’ll be curious to know what our readers think.

One of my favorite sportswriters, ESPN’s Sportsguy, Bill Simmons (formally Boston Sports Guy, for those of you who do not know) probably wrote the least positive review I have read of Cinderella Man. (He still gave it a “B,” by the way, which says something about how good this film is). His criticisms were of the boxing scenes. As he writes:

Here was the problem: The boxing scenes. They're a mess. They're confusing. They're not that entertaining to watch. Eventually, you end up more frustrated than anything. Wait, who's getting hit? Is that Russell Crowe? Why are they showing his legs? Cool, a wide shot, now I can see ... whoops, back to somebody's torso again. Who just got punched? I can't see ... is someone bleeding? Why's the crowd cheering? Why do they keep freezing the film as someone lands a punch? Wait, whose shoulder is that? Why are we looking at the crowd again? On and on it goes. These fights made me so dizzy, I started hoping for quick knockouts so we could be treated to more of the Great Depression.

Was Crowe realistic as a boxer? After two-plus hours, I still couldn't tell you. He looks like a '30s boxer, right down to the natural muscle tone and the thick trunk below his chest, and he held his hands the right way and seemed to be snapping punches. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. Because director Ron Howard edited everything briskly, avoided wide shots and filmed everything tighter than Fox's dugout close-ups during the baseball playoffs – seriously, when has that ever worked in a sports movie??? – you can't get a feel for the little stuff like"Wow, Crowe has great footwork!" and"Holy crap, he actually took that punch right in the jaw!" Isn't that one of the enjoyable subplots in any boxing movie?

While I take his point, my impression is somewhat different, and I certainly think Simmons overstates his case. Howard’s purpose in the boxing scenes clearly was to show the chaotic experience that boxers have in the ring. The vertiginous nature of it made the fight scenes harrowing. Yes, at times it got to be too much. Yes, at times I wish he had done more toe-to-toe Rocky-esque slugfests, but I was not as disturbed as Simmons, and furthermore, I do not think that a sports movie makes or breaks on its sports scenes unless those scenes are wretched. Do I know if Russell Crowe is a decent boxer? No. But I have a sense for what James Braddock might have experienced against a bigger, stronger, more menacing fighter. Howard did not show me what the fight was like to watch. He gave as us close to a sense of what it might have been like to be in the ring. Anyone who has ever been in a fight knows that it is a chaotic experience. One can only imagine how that multiplies if the guy trying to deck you is both sober and the heavyweight champion of the world and he just popped you with a hard overhand right.

The movie is not perfect. Historically, Ron Howard tends to ooze treacle, and so the big concern was that he would overdo what was already a compelling story – that he would overdirect to the point of being manipulative. On the whole, he manages to keep a lid on this trait. But there are a few points when he cannot help himself. These moments almost universally involve various forms of flashbacks or dreamscapes peppered throughout the film. The most saccharine is when Braddock is fighting, taking some serious blows, and then he suddenly sees gauzy views of his family. Call this the “Contender” approach to directing. The point is to show WHY HE FIGHTS. And the answer, which should not have eluded anyone who has up to this point watched the movie, is that HE FIGHTS FOR HIS FAMILY. But as a testiment to his directorial skill (and the luminous acting) Howard has made this clear. The flashbacks and dreamscapes are just superfluous and distracting.

Those qualms aside, Cinderella Man is the best movie I have seen in some time. It is the first bona fide Oscar contender of the year, and it will probably receive a dozen or more nominations. It deserves it.