Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Million Dollar Chance of a Lifetime
The best boxing movies aren't about boxing -- they're stories told through the grace and violence of the sport. The best dramatic movies aren't about CGI and Lucasfilm -- they're about stories so understatedly dark that beyond the shadow of a doubt, as you're sitting with the lights turned down, you know that there's a little part of you projected on the screen.
Never much a fan of spaghetti westerns nor Harrys that are dirty, I've always acknowledged Clint Eastwood as an important member of the contemporary film community, but never directly (although anyone who pays as lovely a tribute to Johnny Mercer as he did in "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" must surely be some sort of a wicked mint julep). Last year, "Mystic River" was perhaps one of the most honourable meditations on fate and destiny -- as unbending and non-negotiable as the title river that runs through the film. I realized that Clint was a fantastic director -- I never thought such Macbethian drama was possible (sorry, didn't believe what they said about "Unforgiven").
I had been waiting for what seemed like the longest time to see "Million Dollar Baby," both because of my current obsession with boxing and because it's a Clint (they tell you in the sport that you have 15 rounds to knock out your opponent, why do it in the first? Patience has never been more of a virtue in this game of virile violence). This story has been told a million times, both through fiction and non-fiction -- downtrodden characters who carry sadness with them like kids dragging their bookbags to school, boxing as a physical fight they could win while a metaphor for beating the odds against dead end lives. Clint doing what he does best, grizzly scowl and rasp, Morgan Freeman as the gentleman voice of reason, Hilary Swank the scrappy champion fighter waiting to be sharpened and unleashed. She is one of those who lives in Los Angeles and has to take the bus. The point is, you don't see privileged people wanting to box with such intensity and desperation.
But aren't all of our lives cliches, until derailed unexpectedly? What happens then is that tragedy brings out the most, if not the best, out of humanity. The irony of great boxing films is that they are made with heart, and the icing on the cake is that this movie showcases some of the most beautifully shot fight scenes since "Raging Bull." It's not a film you can really talk about, you just have to watch it and feel. When they created the term "motion pictures," they must have also meant movies this moving. Clint is the best director of Shakespearan tragedy, except that there's no costumes, no double entendres, no double-edged, hidden meanings in the dialogue -- it's a direct connection from screen to soul.
Can I have the envelope please?
Never much a fan of spaghetti westerns nor Harrys that are dirty, I've always acknowledged Clint Eastwood as an important member of the contemporary film community, but never directly (although anyone who pays as lovely a tribute to Johnny Mercer as he did in "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" must surely be some sort of a wicked mint julep). Last year, "Mystic River" was perhaps one of the most honourable meditations on fate and destiny -- as unbending and non-negotiable as the title river that runs through the film. I realized that Clint was a fantastic director -- I never thought such Macbethian drama was possible (sorry, didn't believe what they said about "Unforgiven").
I had been waiting for what seemed like the longest time to see "Million Dollar Baby," both because of my current obsession with boxing and because it's a Clint (they tell you in the sport that you have 15 rounds to knock out your opponent, why do it in the first? Patience has never been more of a virtue in this game of virile violence). This story has been told a million times, both through fiction and non-fiction -- downtrodden characters who carry sadness with them like kids dragging their bookbags to school, boxing as a physical fight they could win while a metaphor for beating the odds against dead end lives. Clint doing what he does best, grizzly scowl and rasp, Morgan Freeman as the gentleman voice of reason, Hilary Swank the scrappy champion fighter waiting to be sharpened and unleashed. She is one of those who lives in Los Angeles and has to take the bus. The point is, you don't see privileged people wanting to box with such intensity and desperation.
But aren't all of our lives cliches, until derailed unexpectedly? What happens then is that tragedy brings out the most, if not the best, out of humanity. The irony of great boxing films is that they are made with heart, and the icing on the cake is that this movie showcases some of the most beautifully shot fight scenes since "Raging Bull." It's not a film you can really talk about, you just have to watch it and feel. When they created the term "motion pictures," they must have also meant movies this moving. Clint is the best director of Shakespearan tragedy, except that there's no costumes, no double entendres, no double-edged, hidden meanings in the dialogue -- it's a direct connection from screen to soul.
Can I have the envelope please?
// posted by Desiree @ 9:37 PM 
