Cutie and the Boxer

My wife and I have sat through countless biopics about famous artists, and after virtually every one we have the same thought: the movie would have been so much more interesting if it had focused on the artist's life partner instead of the artist. Famous artists in general are a boring bunch -- what's interesting about them is the art they produce. But the people who have to make a life with an artist -- they're the ones whose heads I want to get a peek at.

"Cutie and the Boxer" is a documentary about well-known artist Ushio Shinohara and his wife, Noriko. He's 80, she's 60. They live hand-to-mouth in NYC, never sure how they're going to pay their rent from one month to the next. Noriko is incredibly supportive of the self-absorbed Ushio, to the detriment of her own career as an artist. The film is a day-in-the-life story about these two and the dynamic between them. It's a portrait of a marriage that has been wildly successful on the one hand (they're still together and seem to be very much in love) and full of regret on the other (disappointment in themselves for the mess of a son they raised). Noriko teases Ushio constantly about what a jerk he is and how she doesn't know why she puts up with him. Ushio laughs but looks uneasy -- we don't blame him, because Noriko's teasings always seem to built on a foundation of true resentment.

The lives of Ushio and Noriko are about as different from mine as possible, yet the thing that makes "Cutie and the Boxer" so good is its appeal is universal. Anyone who's made a true effort at building a life with a partner should find something to relate to in this film.

Grade: A

I was expecting a movie about a brilliant but not really well known artist and the woman behind him. I was expecting the movie to explore their long relationship. This is what I got, but what hit me from left field was how the movie focused on boxing painter Ushio Shinohara's wife Noriko, as she used the film (and her art) to pent her frustration of her life being over shadowed by a semi self destructive genius.

It was an interesting story of a young girl who leap into her ideals without looking and more so fell in love with an ideal that embodied Ushio Shinohara.

Cutie and the Boxer gives off a strange feeling. It's a downer without being depressing. She never gives the impression that you should feel sorry for her. After all, she lived her dreams, it just did not turn out as she thought it would. I'm sure a lot of artist feel the same about their struggle.

It's a brilliant movie about two struggling artist both financially emotionally and in the case of Cutie artistically.

And I love how the filmmaker allows the narrative to tell most of the story with very little voice over or interview. He points the camera at Cutie and The Boxer and lets it tell the tale with inter cuts of home movies archive footage and moving graphics of Cutie's Art. I learned so much about the couple in this matter and it was clear without adding too many traditional documentary device.

Definitely, one of the most interesting subjects I've seen for a documentary.

"Love is a roarrrr!!" This is the theme which echoes throughout Oscar nominee for best documentary "Cutie and the Boxer"; a movie that undoubtedly nobody has heard of.

More about Cutie than the Boxer: Starting off as an attempt to shine light on artist Ushio Shinorhara, best known for his avant-garde pieces and action paintings from the late 60's to today, where he physically uses everything from his fists to his forehead as a paintbrush, director Zachary Heinzerling lays out an introspective story of this somewhat eccentrically generic artist as he sets up a gallery exhibition. But in an odd twist of fate, Heinzerling inadvertently captures a far more interesting subplot surrounding Shinohara's much younger wife, Noriko, giving audiences a look at the portrait of a strained marriage, filled with alcoholism and regret, where Noriko (a very talented artist herself) lives in her husband's shadow, as she likens her marriage to "two flowers growing in the same pot." Opening with the striking image of an 80 year old Asian man putting on comically large boxing gloves, dipping them into black paint and proceeding to aggressively pummel a white canvas, which stands twice his size, it would be easy to say this is a doc which contains some imagery that commands attention. But more so, "Cutie and the Boxer" contains more intriguing nuances within its character analysis. Especially during the latter portions, where Heinzerling focuses more on Noriko and her hand drawn animations; animations which star a quite liberated female character, who goes by the name "Cutie". During this section of the film "Cutie and the Boxer" takes its purest and most developed form, as these character's true motivations become transparent.

Heinzerling uses the most creative means possible to bring different layers of this story to life and the cinematography is pretty great (the final shot was subtly the most artistic image in the entire film). But although the meat of this worked for me, I never felt as engaged with the subjects or subject matter as I believe Heinzerling would have liked me to.

Final Thought: "Cutie and the Boxer" is honestly a movie that, from the poster alone, I was dreading to have to sit down and watch. Now, was I blown away after I finished this? No. But if you are on Netflix and interested in watching a film regarding a case of female liberation masquerading as an art documentary, then "Cutie and the Boxer" is an interesting enough watch.

This candid New York love story explores the chaotic 40-year marriage of famed boxing painter Ushio Shinohara and his wife, Noriko. Anxious to shed her role as her overbearing husband's assistant, Noriko finds an identity of her own.

One might think this film would be about Ushio Shinohara, and in some ways it is. But the focus is really on Noriko, which turns out to be the more powerful story -- the woman who pursued a dream, got pregnant, and spent the next several decades being a wife, mother and babysitter. One gets the impression that without Noriko, there could be no Ushio -- he would have died penniless, drunk in a gutter years earlier.

While not the strongest of the documentary nominees, it is perhaps the most human and deserves some recognition for that. How it lost to "20 Feet From Stardom" is something of a mystery...

This is a stunning film for several reasons: Foremost, it is a convincingly honest portrayal of the life of two artists. I cannot recall a film that got the life of an artist right—without an agenda, without false sentiment, without noticeable dishonesty. As a writer I felt I fully understood what Heinzerling managed to convey about the Shinoharas' personal visions without his having to resort to the conventional format of most documentaries. Second, the film is a totally engrossing portrait of a complicated relationship. Unlike most films about famous people, there is no narration here telling us what to think of Ushio and Noriko. They speak for themselves. They reveal themselves, for better and occasionally for worse. I usually resist films that are charming but this one has charm that is utterly irresistible. Third, the film casts light on the kind of work these artists do and have done. Fourth, we get to see the artists when they are not creating; that is, we get to know a little more about their inner lives and their external activities. Fifth, the artists themselves are utterly compelling personalities.