The curious thing about boxing pictures is that the ones grounded in real life tend to be as compelling and engaging as anything you can manufacture.
Rocky Balboa may have the box-office staying power to yield six movies (seven if you count the upcoming spin-off “Creed” due later this year), but most of those stories are tremendously predictable.
Stack them up against David O. Russell’s “The Fighter,” Michael Mann’s “Ali” or the granddaddy of ‘em all, Martin Scorsese’s “Raging Bull,” and the Italian Stallion doesn’t seem nearly as original as the stuff ripped from reality.
This trend of complacency in crafting fiction in the realm of the boxing ring sadly continues with “Southpaw,” a contrived spin on the usual rags-to-riches sports star story that remains watchable thanks to strong but not stellar performances from its male leads.
Jake Gyllenhaal is getting a reputation for transformative performances, and his bulked-up work as foster-kid-turned-world-champ Billy Hope will go far in cementing that reputation.
The didactically named Hope is introduced as one of the few kids making a life after coming up through the system — another being his wife and manager Maureen (Rachel McAdams), who exits the film quite early on, throwing Billy into a tailspin and their daughter Leila (Oona Laurence) into protective custody.
Enter gym owner and trainer Tick Wills (Forest Whitaker), the kind of no-nonsense, world-weary mentor figure you’ve seen in countless other movies, albeit not always with the acting acumen of someone such as Whitaker. While it takes more than half the running time for the film to introduce him, Wills is a cornerstone of the film and elevates Gyllenhaal’s character not simply through story. The scenes pairing Gyllenhaal and Whitaker — in which they both teach each other life lessons and reflect on what brought them together — are the best moments of the film despite their hackneyed nature.
Jake Gyllenhaal is getting a reputation for transformative performances, and his bulked-up work as foster-kid-turned-world-champ Billy Hope will go far in cementing that reputation.
Similarly, Laurence does a stellar job of conveying the lingering hatred Leila has for her out-of-control dad while she’s subjected to the same parentless upbringing her own parents lived.
Credit is due to Fuqua and cinematographer Mauro Fiore (“Training Day”) for slightly invigorating the often-predictable proceedings with inventive angles for the boxing scenes, including some point-of-view shots that few directors have attempted before in transporting viewers into the ring.
There are flashes of a better, deeper film thanks to Whitaker and Gyllenhaal. The latter even manages an unearthly cackle as Billy cops to how much of a mess he’s become during a visit to child services. It’s a moment reminiscent of Robert De Niro at his “Bull”-ish best.
But those moments don’t make a movie. The remainder of “Southpaw” is largely a paint-by-numbers tale of redemption that hits its marks and little else — “all power and no precision,” as Wills would say.
Telling a story with is no easy task. Fiction often is the underdog because the truth is almost always stranger. And without a knockout performance to distract from its templated story line, “Southpaw” only has a puncher’s chance at being a cinematic winner.
“Southpaw” is rated R. Two hours and 3 minutes. Two and a half stars out of five.