The Fighter (2010) dir. David O. Russell
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo, Jack McGee

****

By Alan Bacchus

Shame on me for doubting this picture. After all, I had the choice of holding off posting by ‘Best of 2010’ list until I saw this film, but my impatience had me doubting that The Fighter would be able to crack the top ten. After all, the story of a down and out boxer, overcoming the odds to win a title shot is perhaps the oldest story in Hollywood, and also played out. Also, knowing that this once was originally a Darren Aronofsky project, passed off to David O Russell had me questioning the passion of the filmmakers behind this film.

And so what a joy to be shocked to life by Russell’s impeccable skills, a story so perfectly crafted and executed it hits those core, base or fundamental emotions we have toward brotherhood, ambition, survival in life. A true triumph of the human spirit giving us the same sort of chills up our spine as other classics of the genre, Rocky, The Wrestler and Million Dollar Baby.

My DFD colleague Greg Klymkiw described Clint Eastwood’s Invictus as a meat and potatoes film. The Fighter fall into this category as well. We know these characters – so well. Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) and Dickie Eklund (Christian Bale) are half brothers from a working class town Lowell, Massachusetts. Dickie, the eldest who fancies himself once as the ‘pride of Lowell’ is a failed boxer who clings to his one triumph, knocking down Sugar Ray Leonard once in a fight 14 years prior. Now he’s a crack addict with one foot in the grave were it not for his younger brother whom he trains to be the next ‘pride of Lowell’.

Micky Ward, the younger brother, is actually near the end of his career, three losses in a row and who needs a victory to keep him in the game. A painful loss to a heavier fighter cripples the relationship between the two, a loss blamed on Dickie and his headstrong mother/manager Alice (Melissa Leo). Enter Charlene (Amy Adams), a red headed bargirl/college drop out who gives Micky the confidence that if he breaks with the family he could be a success.

And so, Micky is presented an agonizing internal conflict, the desire to live up to the pedestal his brother places him on, and the loyalty and love he deeply desires to give to his family. This is the strongest kind of decision-making we can see in cinema, decisions we ourselves in the audience subliminally make in our heads as we watch the film. We imagine confronting our own older brothers, or dedicated mothers who have nurtured us our whole lives.

The Fighter has the rare spark of truth, a miraculous kind of truth which exists in every moment of the film. Russell impressively mixes the emotions conveyed by Micky’s decisions, Dickie’s heartbreaking fight with substance abuse with the same unique sense of irreverent humour from all of his other films (ie. Flirting With Disaster, Three Kings). Much of the humour comes from the authenticity he finds in the working class milieu of Lowell. Micky’s seven sisters for instance, all of whom look like haggard cougars-in-training pulled from the seediest bar in Lowell. They appear, always together in almost every scene in the background, like a peanut gallery.

Performances are top notch in every role. It’s one of Christian Bale’s best, one which goes beyond the superficial physical transformation he goes through to become an underweight crack addict. We feel the genuine love for his brother and his desire to win no matter kind of trauma he finds himself in. Wahlberg admirably assumes the less showy role, a reactive straight man performance, which usually gets overshadowed by the histrionics of the more rowdy characters. Amy Adams and Melissa Leo both shine as two strong women who antagonize each other with Micky in between. Both are fighters in their own way who won’t back down from each other.

Though it’s a story of two brothers and moves around the very masculine world of professional boxing, The Fighter is not a macho film. It’s a universal story of family, of mothers, daughters, brothers and the inexplicable bond which can push us all towards extraordinary things.

Three Kings (1999) dir, David O Russell
Starring: George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, Spike Jonze, Ice Cube

****

By Alan Bacchus

David O Russell’s now legendary on set behaviour notwithstanding, he’s a fantastic filmmaker, and Three Kings, a tonally ambitious black comedy/ action film is one of the great political satires of the past 15 years.

It’s the end of the first Iraq War, an event signified by the absurd first line from Mark Wahlberg “are we shooting people?”, after which Wahlberg’s characer Sgt Troy Barlow hits a shooting duck Iraqi in the chest from far far away. After a rather fun rock and roll montage sequence portraying the victory like the US just won the Super Bowl, we’re also introduced to Major Archie Gates (Clooney), Sgt Chief Elgin (Ice Cube) and Pvt Conrad Vig (Spike Jonze) who, using a treasure map in found in a captured Iraqi soldier’s ass, go awol in search of Saddam Hussein’s secret stash of Gold.

The foursome (yeah, it should really be called ‘Four Kings’) find Saddam’s once hidden bunker and the cooperation of the freed Iraqi citizens who help them move the gold bars. But when the Saddam’s soldiers attack the citizens, the Bush-ordered cease fire prevents them from intervening. Caught been personal ethics, military duties and their own monetary greed Gates and the gang gradually turn themselves into a sort of Seven Samurai fighting for the freedom of the Iraqis.

The opening act is especially inspired. The introduction of the US presence in Iraq and the almost casuality-free easy victory on the part of the Americans over Hussein’s army is characterized with sharp absurd humour. Same with the global connectness of Iraq with American culture. The site of Iraqi soldiers helping the three Americans load gold bars into Louis Vutton bags, for example, or the room full of exotic automobiles Gates gets to choose from to help rescue Barlow from capture are examples of the pitch perfect absurdities of that war. Barlow’s absurdly comic phone call to his wife using a found junk cell in his makeshift cell typifies the measured balance between comedy, political commentary and disturbing violence and torture.

The men on a mission actually begins like a refashioning of Kelly’s Heroes – that is, a group of dissillusioned soldiers looking to score a buck to spite the war. It’s a great film to compare and contract. In 1970, politics were much different. For Heroes, it was during Vietnam and it reflects the distinctly 60’s government-hating attitude of liberals. In Russell’s film in the second and third acts the character find their heart and their principles, stripping itself of the 60’s cynicism toward new millenium global activism.

When the Kings turn good and move toward the right side responsibility to military and country, the film threatens to lose it’s edge. Miraculously the satire remains, and at the same time we’re also treated to a number of thrilling action sequences and a heartbreaking series of events in the finale. The mortar sequence sequence in particular is beautifully shot by innovative DP Newton Thomas Sigel and edited by Robert Lambert. And the final moments of Pvt Vig are surprisingly emotional.

And Cudos to George Clooney who managed to hide his well publicized displeasure with his director delivering his first real ‘George Clooney’ performance outside of ER. It was also a great year for Spike Jonze, who turned in some fine acting chops, before he went on to direct the equally wonderful Being John Malkovich that year. It's interesting to see how the satire plays in light of the new Iraqi War which by contrast is a clusterfuck of enormous proportions - an added layer of depth and poignancy to an already intellectually stimulating film.

‘Three Kings’ is available on Blu-Ray from Warner Home Video