Double Punch

Two movies about boxing. Both are dramas, both are underdog stories. One is a good teacher on what to do to exceed conventions in making films like this, the other is the opposite. Making a boxing film is a bit easy, especially if it’s a drama – somehow the sport is evocative of stories of self determination and victory over adversity – that’s the kind of things audiences like. That’s also one of the reasons I liked The Contender – it brings the story of the aspiring boxer to a more personal level, despite the reality show spin it had to it. These fighters had families, had dreams, had aspirations. It makes the drama more entertaining, not to mention the matches they would go through. Like some guy said, a fight reads better if there’s a backstory between the fighters involved – it makes you want to care for them, it makes you want to root for them.

Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby is an underdog story, of sorts. Hilary Swank plays a waitress/aspiring woman boxer who wants a trainer/manager to teach her the finer aspects of the art. Clint Eastwood happens to be one, and he’s in the area. However, in his trademark gruffly voice, he doesn’t want to, because of various failures in his past. Insert a few sidestories involving a kid who wants to be a boxer too despite being picked on by everybody else, and an event that changes the story flow into the last third, and you have this film.

Technically the film is well done. The feel is very heavy-handed, dark and moody. The screen seems to be saturated in hues of dark blue, which highlights the mood of the film, if the rest of the film hasn’t done that already. The music is also well done, as is the camerawork. You can expect such a quality from Eastwood’s films.

Despite the fact that the movie is well done, something about the execution bothers me. The story is, basically, like the plot of a made-for-TV movie. The characters are no exception either – aside from Eastwood’s character, they lack complexity. They are just simple one-dimensional characters that serve no purpose but to stand there and act their roles like little toy soldiers. Everyone is so easy to categorize, so easy to classify. If you’re good in this film, you’re very, very good. If you’re a villain in this movie, you’re basically scum. It’s tolerable to an extent or if you’re making a point, but this is ridiculous – it makes the whole movie feel fake. Hell, even Godzilla isn’t totally bad. Of note are the parents of Hilary’s character and the East German Boxer who faces off against my heroine in her last fight. They’re eeeeeeeevil, and it is shoved down into our throats that these people are eeeeeeevil. Okay, we get it. They’re evil. Also, the good guys are good just because the people who made the movie say so, not because we come to like them. This is a pitfall for many movies.

Is it because the director or the scriptwriter underestimates the intelligence of the audience that they do this? I don’t really know. In fairness to the movie, the actors do their jobs quite well, with what little they were given with. Clint Eastwood does well as the gruffly hardass with a past. Hilary Swank makes her role so sympathetic you will cry if you fall into her feminine wiles (hehe). Morgan Freeman, who narrates the film and acts as our eyes into the film, just does his job, although I think he was sadly underused.

Another way of looking at this film is as a dark fairytale, a kid’s story told to adults. My appreciation of the film increases a bit when I think of it this way, although not too much. The melodrama makes this prime Oscar Bait - and guess what, it did win at the Oscars. Stick to films like Unforgiven – they’re still Eastwood’s best.

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On the other hand, what if there was no real enemy – what if two underdogs – two people you desperately want to root for – face each other in the ring? Who would you root for? The 2005 film Crying Fist poses this question. Directed by talented filmmaker Ryu Seong-wan (Arahan, No Blood No Tears,) this film is a boxing film, and it is also a melodrama. It fits the latter because it’s about the lives of two men who wish to change their lives through boxing.

One of them, portrayed marvelously by the director’s brother Ryu Seong-bum, is a young man who has taken the wrong choices in life much too easily. Although he doesn’t talk much in the opening minutes of the film, you could see the restraint, the deep, swirling, violent emotions within him, yearning to break free. Eventually he gets sent to jail for getting involved in one crime too many, and there he discovers boxing as a way to repent for his sins.

On the other hand, Choi Min-sik portrays a former Asian Games silver medalist now down on his luck. His recent financial troubles have caused strain on his relationships with his wife and young son. Soon, he is forced to become a human sandbag in the streets for money. He’s portrayed as a total loser, much like his character in Failan. He plays his character with much heart that it is hard not to be heartbroken when he gets into desperate situations with his job and his former colleagues.

As you may notice, neither of the two characters could be classified as purely good or bad. At the start they’re quite unlikable, but over time, as we get to know them more, we begin to sympathize with them. We aren’t forced to like them, we do only after a long process. That’s what good storytelling does. We realize that however unsavory these characters might seem at first, despite the crap they go through, their hearts are basically in the right place. Anyone who has gone through hardships in life can understand the things they’re going through. It’s hard, and it tests your resolve to live on. At one point in the movie Choi’s character tells someone that he’d probably have killed himself had it not been for his son – his son is the tether that holds him to his life.

Eventually, both catch wind of a boxing tournament, and both decide to join – not only for their own sakes, but for the sake of those they love, in the hopes that a win could allow them to give their loved ones a better life. They fight for dignity and for the chance to stand out in a world that has shunned them.

This excellent characterization owes much to the superb performances by both main actors – at times it seemed like Choi and Ryu were both vying for my attention in the best way possible. Although we know the veteran Choi is a damn good actor and he shows that in spades, props have to go out to Ryu Seong-bum, who gives a career-defining performance in this movie. He’s completely unrecognizable from his earlier role as the bumbly, well-meaning cop in Arahan.

Technically the film delivers in many ways, with the cinematography darkening the visual atmosphere of the film to deliver a gritty feel, reminiscent of Ryu’s older films like Die Bad and No Blood, No Tears. The world is portrayed as a violent place, and no one is seemingly safe.

One of the best set pieces in the film is when Ryu and Choi’s characters face off. The music is that of a Maori folk song, sung by the women to welcome their warrior men after coming back from the battle. The scene intercuts between the faces of the combatants, bloodied and bruised, and you can see the sheer determination that these two characters have – that they won’t ever bear being knocked out. It tells me that the movie is about the journey and the self-transformation. They may have been lost before, but through boxing they have come home to where – and who – they truly belong.