Posted on 06/06/2005 11:16:07 AM PDT by NutCrackerBoy
He's the Bulldog of Bergen, the Pride of New Jersey, the Hope of the Irish: James J. Braddock, has-been, might-have-been, and struggling breadwinner. As Russell Crowe portrays this real-life figure from the Depression era in Cinderella Man, he lopes down the sidewalk with his eyebrows tented in mild surprise and his mouth hanging slightly ajar. This Cinderella still has dust behind his ears.
Braddock is no ball of fire. He's not motivated by a passion for boxing, like Maggie in last fall's hit, Million Dollar Baby. He doesn't even have the horsy competitiveness of Seabiscuit, subject of Hollywood's last inspirational-underdog-of-the-Depression venture. If Braddock is an underdog, he wears it well: He's doglike in his loyalty, gentleness, and nobility of spirit. When life gives him a kick in the pants, he accepts it uncomplainingly; When it tosses him a bone, he's sincerely grateful.
How grateful is shown by a scene midway through. Things have gotten so tough for Jim and his wife Mae (Renee Zellwegger) that they can no longer keep their three children at home; without money for grocery and heating bills, the kids are getting sick. (In an earlier scene, we had seen Mae stretching a bottle of milk by adding water.) The children are farmed out to live with extended family. Regretfully, Braddock goes down to the relief office and signs up for the dole so he can bring them home. But then he wins a fight, and returns to the same office. He plops down a roll of bills in front of the cashier. Later, when a reporter asks him about this, he shrugs it off. "This is a great country, a country that helps a man when he's in trouble. I thought I should return it."
It's exactly this mildness, this simplicity, that makes Cinderella Man such a knockout. Director Ron Howard controls the elements so masterfully that the film is deeply emotionally satisfying. In itself, the story was dangerously sweet: one-time promising boxer slips from the spotlight, then gets another chance, and, fighting to save his family from poverty, rises to win the championship. If Braddock had been a bright-eyed, stalwart hunk, spouting off about justice and courage, the film would have been unbearably tedious. Self-effacing Crowe, on the other hand, draws you in; there always seems to be some further secret in the character of this quiet, curiously solitary, man. And a wife who was a quick-witted glamour gal, badly disguised under a 30's hat, would have torpedoed credibility. Zellwegger balances Crowe perfectly, with her pinched expression and Fran Drescher accent.
But the linchpin of this terrific cast is Paul Giamatti as renowned trainer Joe Gould. The standard order calls for an outwardly abrasive cigar-chewing grumpas, who in a late scene gets teary-eyed and reveals a heart of gold. No such folderol for Giamatti. He looks like he's been molded out of Play-Doh, his domed head pinched and pulled upward, and bringing everything along with it, indomitably buoyant. As usual, he's irresistibly watchable, yet without overwhelming Crowe's quiet guilelessness; the two seem a perfect match.
And when he pounds on the canvas, shouting instructions to Braddock during the fight, boy, it sure sounded like good advice to me. I hadn't before seen that a good trainer is primarily an analyst of movement, continually evaluating the strengths of each fighter as the bout progresses. Giamatti showed how active a trainer has to be during a fight, not just by his delivery of sharp-eyed coaching, but by his own tense physicality. And the lines he gets! As a wealthy promoter says, after he's been overcome by Gould's silver-tongued persuasion, "They oughta put your mouth in the circus."
Howard doesn't short-change us emotionally, however; his restraint has its limits. When Braddock is failing during a fight, he sees blurry images — a bread line, his kids' empty beds, a stack of bills stamped "Past Due" — and begins to recover his strength. Likewise, when Mae is taunted by a fighter who has killed two men in the ring, she sees images of a coffin spattered with dirt, and a lone widow walking across a cemetery. You might think this kind of overly literal depiction would be too broad but, actually, it turns out to be just about right.
The character of this bad-guy fighter, Max Baer (Craig Bierko), is not overly subtle; he sports two floozies, openly signals his plan to kill Braddock like he did the others, and in the clinches murmurs in Braddock's ear, "Does your wife call my name at night?" Of course, this only makes Braddock fight harder, which is obvious and inevitable and not a bit less effective for that. There are 35,000 in attendance at this fight, and every single one is rooting for Braddock; apparently, Baer the World Champion has no fans. During the big fight Mae goes to church and finds it full of people praying for her husband; the priest explains, "They all think that Jim's fighting for them." Well, that's O.K. too. You need a little bit of ham with the mashed potatoes.
It's often observed that it's easy to depict evil in stories; what's difficult is depicting good. The Phantom of the Opera is fascinating, and Prince Charming is a bore. But Cinderella Man accomplishes that difficult task, giving us in Jim Braddock a character who is genuinely and believably good. It does this, not by showing dark sides to "balance" his character (the usual gambit) but by depicting him as humble. Braddock does extraordinarily heroic things, but in a way that communicates that it's just the normal way a man should act.
Cinderella Man is not really a movie about boxing, it's a movie about what it means to be a man. In the character of Jim Braddock, we can read what today's audiences are wistful for: a man who works hard to support his wife and kids, who teaches his kids to be honest, who communicates his delight in his wife with every glance. As Mae says to Jim in a late scene, "You're the Bulldog of Bergen, the Pride of New Jersey, you're everybody's hope, you're your kids' hero, and the champion of my heart." Do they make them like that any more?
Frederica Mathewes-Green writes regularly for NPR's Morning Edition, Beliefnet.com, Christianity Today, and other publications. She is the author of Gender: Men, Women, Sex and Feminism, among other books.
It makes for an interesting discussion. I argue the movie did not demonize Baer.
The Baer in the film was a libertine. True (I assume). Two of his opponents had died in the ring, or shortly thereafter. True. Do you think the historical Baer didn't cash in on how that enhanced his intimidation factor? Maybe did some trash talking? (By the way Craig Bierko's scary performance as Baer, the depiction of his physical presence, was great character acting and direction in my opinion).
Another film could be made that portrayed Baer in a better light, but I argue this one didn't cartoonize or demonize him beyond reasonable artistic license.
I'll wait to see it on cable, like every other movie that my kids don't beg me take them to.
I think so, too. He was fabulous.
I agree with your brother. I don't know how anyone could trash it. Honor and courage are to liberals what garlic and daylight are to vampires.
I haven't been to a movie in many years, but I might go see this one.
This past weekend, A&E had a one-hour program (MovieReal) about the film. It featured interviews with Howard, Crowe and Zellwiger, film clips from the movie and contemporary news film from the era.
I grew up in those times and remember listening to the fights on the radio. The A&E show brought back great memories and even though the program gave away just about the whole movie, it looks worth dropping a few bucks on.
Was one of them when Darth Vader yells, "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" cause I actually had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing at that point.
Actually, yes.
The "line" has been done so many times it is just a joke.
Doesn't Lucas know that?
Of the many things she told me, the one that comes to mind first is that as bad as it was, they never needed to lock the doors at night. It wasn't until the 1980s that she had to lock the doors at night (they lived in northwest Pennsylvania in a small town). People still held to their values (not stealing, helping each other, charity), not the situational ethics that are so prevalent today. There was a sense of personal and community responsibility.
I really like "little Tonny Howard" He is so down to earth and regular acting-I assume he is a flaming lib but he seems so nice and there are so few Hollywierds to like.
I Meant Ronny not Tonny!
Ping for the Pig Vomit fans. Apparently he's terrific in this.
I won't bother, unless Sandra Oh is in it!
Schmaltzy? Square?
WOW!
My kinda movie! Finally!
Really, it is a shame that virtue and love and honor and (dare I say it) manliness are reviled today.
Maybe 'reviled' is not the right word. They are simply dismissed as impossible.
But I believe... I have seen it.
Perhaps I live in the past, but in some ways it was a better world.
I hope this will be Bierko's breakout screen performance. In spite of being a hunk, he's been in only a few movies and TV shows - forgettable ones. He's also a terrific musical performer, nominated for the Tony for the 2000 revival of "The Music Man." Too bad the days of the Hollywood musical are over - he could be the new Howard Keel!
I thought of "The Simpsons," with McBain screaming "Noooooo!!!!" to the ceiling after Mendoza's thugs shoot his partner. Apparently, Lucas gets his inspiration by stealing cliches so old, they have passed into joke territory. I'm amazed he didn't have someone point out that Senator Amadala was just ONE day away from retirement...
I haven't seen it yet, but I want to. I cried just watching the trailer online.
He didn't, his son became an actor whom you might remember from the Beverly Hillbillies.
That said, he grieved and paid for the school and looked after the kids of one of those boxers.
He didn't talk trash about, he didn't even like hearing about it.
From everything I have read, he was actually a very nice guy who got along with Braddock.
He made his big name by fighting a german fighter while wearing the star of david on his trunks and winning, he was a borderline hero for many.
He didn't talk trash about it, he didn't even like hearing about it.
I believe you. Even the film shows him sincerely not wanting to hurt Mr. Braddock. I agree now the movie made some stuff up about him from whole cloth to focus the character study of Braddock. But every boxer intimides to some extent; who could say he never played on the fear from those deaths?
Me too. Well done, critic Frederica.You did your job. Spouse dragged me to the local Cineplex. Old time boxing student of the game and devotee of old black and white boxing films. Sure, the movies take literary licence. Max Baer (The Livermore Larruper) was said to have been haunted by the death of Frankie Campbell. This was the battle of the "two young California Heavyweight Kings". It was said that his later clowning and apparent flippant behaviour, was to disguise his inner grief.
Actual films show Baer, playing the fool against Braddock. In fact he was a ladies man. Cannot see Max. as a sort of Hulk, myself. Just a lethal puncher. (Played opposite Myrna Loy in a Hollywood film). Well, yer pays yer money and yer takes yer choice.
Still, back to the film. I felt that watching it, made me a slightly better person. Well done anyway. Should be an Oscar or two here. Giametti, playing Joe Gould the manager, deserves plaudits.
It'll get the Oscar for Best Movie. I was sure they didn't make movies like this anymore.
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