March
5, 2005 If
ever a movie deserved its Oscar for Best Picture, it's Million
Dollar Baby. I absolutely adore this film. I treasure this film.
It carries an emotional honesty and depth of character that is
endearing, touching. It is moving without ever becoming maudlin,
humorous without becoming hokey. Here is a movie that celebrates
the joys and sorrows of life. The
greatness of this picture is its simplicity, its focus. This
could easily have been a boxing movie in the tradition of Rocky,
and indeed it does work upon many of the conventions of underdog
sports movies, but this isn't a movie about boxing. It's
about three complex human beings who have lived hard lives, learned
difficult lessons, and face painful decisions. Who
could have ever guessed that Clint Eastwood would grow and mature
into one of our greatest filmmakers? I am truly amazed with
the skill and grace Eastwood has developed over the years. This
is his 25th film as a director, and also his best; it feels as
though he is only beginning to hit his stride. Eastwood
plays an aging fight trainer named Frankie Dunn who runs an old
gym and has worked in boxing his whole life. He is a man with a deep
conscience and deeper emotional scars; the priest at his parish wisely
notes that any man who attends mass every day for 23 years must
be carrying a lot of guilt. We are never given the details of his
past, as many movies would do; instead, we see glimpses, captured
moments and moods. We see the toughened, gruff man he is now. Consider
Hillary Swank, whose magnificent presence resonates throughout
the entire film. This woman has amazing talent, and endless reserves;
I think, if she chooses roles wisely, she will be remembered
as the finest actor of her generation. She portrays a waitress
named Maggie with a stubborn inisistance and firebrand spirit
(get Alison Lohman on the phone - this is how you play the damned
lead!), that covers a lifetime of suffering. She is 31 years
old and dreams of becoming a professional boxer, but has no real
experience and fewer skills. Her
sense of determination is tempered with a sorrow, a sense of
desperation.
"If I was thinking straight I'd go back home," she
says to Frankie.
"Find a used trailer, buy a deep fryer and some oreos.
If I'm too old for this then I got nothing." She believes
it in her bones, and why not? Her family is both stupid and
cruel, and she earns so little as a waitress that
she must feed on the table scraps. On
her 22nd birthday, she already is an old maid. She
plants herself in Frankie's gym and refuses to accept anything
resembling a 'no.' This is the one thing in
her doomed underclass life that fills her with a sense of purpose.
Finally, the old man relents, and agrees to take her under his
wing, teaching her the necessary skills. Eventually, she finally
gets her chance in the ring. This
is where we part company. Most sports movies would follow the
beaten path, and one could make a good picture that way. But it wouldn't
be truly great, it wouldn't be Clint Eastwood's picture. He prefers
to pay attention to theses two lonely souls, who eventually see in
each other the lost opportunity to repair their broken father-daughter
relationships. There
are a number of fight scenes which are skillfully staged, but what
resonates with me are Frankis and Maggie's quiet moments together:
sitting together in a small country restaurant, talking over home-made
pie; travelling by car to visit her family, and the long, hard ride
back in the night. And
then we have Morgan Freeman. I remember reading Pauline Kael
hailing him in the early '80s as Americas finest
actor, and I believe that's very true today. He has always
been great, never more so than here. As a former boxer nicknamed "Scrap-Iron," he
works the gym and verbally duels with Frankie. They both
share the kind of long friendship where they can be brutally
honest, sometimes with humor, sometimes not. Their banter
provides some of the best dialog in the movie, and it snaps
and bounces with rhythm. They share a past colored by broken
dreams, but continue to live each day with defiance. Freeman
narrates, invoking the spirit of Shawshank
Redemption. Both movies
take place in a kind of purgatory, but this time the events that
transpire are more tragic, the progression more and more sorrowful.
I wouldn't dare give away Million Dollar Baby's big tearjerker
shocker in its final act (unlike some untalented rightwing hacks
who shall remain unnamed, cough), and I'm actually reluctant to describe
more than the most basic outline. I want you to experience everything
fresh, just as I have. I
will say that these are three of the best actors today, giving
some of their most heartfelt, intimate work. These are people who
share joy and hope, but also know a deep sadness. I think I'm somewhat
partial to these kind of stories, perhaps because they're so
rare in American cinema. Our culture is obsessed with the idea
of always being happy, of never having to confront difficulties
or loss. I think that's the real reason for the controversy regarding
Baby's ending, and the final decision Frankie must make. He's at
a point where he must choose between purgatory and hell. It's heartbreaking
and it's beautiful.
So
many American movies today do nothing but waste your time and kill
precious brain cells. It seems Hollywood just becomes dumber and
dumber, piling insulting dreck on top of ignorant, stupid or
snobby audiences. But a great movie like Million Dollar Baby
restores my faith in an instant; it inspires me. I just want
to grab the nearest camera and start shooting. |
