directed by Antoine Fuqua
written by Kurt Sutter
This title is a bit of a misnomer; the only similarity between Jake LaMotta, the real-life man whom Robert De Niro portrayed in the 1980 film Raging Bull, and Billy Hope, the fictional man whom Jake Gyllenhaal plays in the current film Southpaw, is that both of them are professional boxers. It was worth drawing the parallel (apart from the identical names) because it seems to me that the only reason this movie was made was for Gyllenhaal to take a shot at the Oscar glory De Niro's performance thirty-five years ago earned him.
Southpaw is the story of Hope, an undefeated prize fighter from Hell's Kitchen who starts the film on top of the world, having fought his way to the very top of the heap. Having accompanied him from his humble origins to the top is his lovely wife Maureen (Rachel McAdams) with whom he has a lovely daughter Leila (Oona Lawrence), and the two of them are his whole world. Tragedy strikes, however, when the arrogant up-and-comer Miguel Escobar (Miguel Lopez), who yearns for a title successfully goads Hope into a fistfight (not the sanctioned kind) and the subsequent melee between the two fighters' entourages results in a horrifying death. Billy loses everything; his title, his money and even his daughter when the government deems him an unfit parent, and as a result he must fight his way back from the brink. Fortunately, he might have a little help in washed-out former boxer Tick Wills (Forest Whitaker), but it will take more than the bravado and brute strength on which he has gotten by so far. Billy will now have to learn how to box as he has never boxed before.
To be perfectly honest, I watched this movie for only two reasons: I was trying to sit out a terrible traffic jam and I wanted to hear one of the final film scores of my favorite film composer, the late James Horner. Not only was Horner's music among his less remarkable work, there was nothing else about the movie that was particularly compelling, either before, during or after the viewing.
As a boxing film, Southpaw commits the usual (and understandable) Hollywood sin of depicting modern-day boxing as simple brawling, with the fighters exchanging blows like their jaws and bodies were made of granite instead of trying to actually duck. This is actually made a plot point later in the movie, but it still doesn't make the depiction of fighting any less silly. Still, if they were going for utter hard-edged realism, audiences would most likely be treated to several minutes of clinches, ducks and backpedaling, which is what they saw during the last fight featuring a real-life undefeated boxer. Still, whether the film was justified or not in taking liberties with the reality of boxing, it ultimately brought nothing new to the table.
As human drama, the film is serviceable, and Gyllenhaal and Whitaker really sell the heck out of their characters' arcs, both as individuals and as an onscreen duo. Particularly impressive for me was Gyllenhaal's rapport with Lawrence, who played his daughter. The thing was, again, this wasn't anything that hadn't already been done before. The father seeking to be reunited with his daughter was done as recently as Ant Man, and quite frankly, that was a lot more enjoyable to watch.
The film isn't a complete waste of time; Fuqua certainly knows how to create atmosphere, and quite honestly I'd like to see what he could do with a less cliched script and a more compelling story, as the potential is clearly there. Also, I marveled at the makeup artists who not only did a good job of turning Gyllenhaal's face into hamburger, but in showing how boxing injuries to the eyes actually look after they've just started to heal. I doubt they'll win any award, but I think they deserve a shout-out.
Still, this was a movie I could just have easily waited to see at home, and had it not been for a traffic jam and the prospect of listening to one of James Horner's final works, I would have.
6/10
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