Réquiem Para um Lutador

Rod Serling, of Twilight Zone fame, deserves kudos for this wonderful screenplay about an over the hill fighter played by Anthony Quinn, whose life and legend are at the behest of his corrupt and cynical manager, Jackie Gleason. Trainer Mickey Rooney is the only person in cinematic history who can call Gleason a "fink" and make it sound authentic. When Quinn's character can't cut it any longer, he tries to find meaningful work. However, he's taken one too many blows to the head, and has offered his allegiance to someone willing to betray him for a hint of the glory of the old days. Quinn's performance as the punch drunk fighter is full of pathos and extremely well done -- his finest hour in my opinion. Serling has much to say about the human spirit, love, and friendship gone awry. Beautifully photographed in black and white, this film deserves multiple viewings.

I had missed out on an Italian TV broadcast of this acclaimed boxing drama in the 80s and, even if it did get released on DVD on both regions, I never got to pick it up until now because its lack of any significant supplements kept pushing it back. Anyway, I got to watch and own it now and it was certainly worth the wait as this must surely rank among the best films that deal with boxing. Interestingly, REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT was originally previewed at a much longer running time (featuring some 16 minutes of additional footage) but the version I watched is the more familiar 86-minute cut.

The film was superbly written by Rod Serling – best-known for writing many of THE TWILIGHT ZONE (1959-64) episodes and introducing the show – who, among others, provided the screenplay for such notable films as PATTERNS (1956), SEVEN DAYS IN MAY (1964) and PLANET OF THE APES (1968). Actually, this was the fourth filming of the play and previous TV versions – both made in 1957 – starred Jack Palance and, of all people, Sean Connery in the role played here by Anthony Quinn!

The four leads are all outstanding: Quinn gives what is arguably his most moving performance as the dim-witted boxer who cannot even talk coherently with all the beatings he took in the ring and might even lose his sight if he keeps at it much longer; Jackie Gleason is excellent as Quinn's manager who is driven to bet against his own man in order to collect some fast dough and pay off his debts to an androgynous racketeer breathing down his neck; Mickey Rooney is just terrific as Quinn's loyal handler (and an ex-prizefighter himself) who quickly sees through all of Gleason's schemes to keep Quinn in the ring for his own personal gain; and Julie Harris as the lonesome social worker who takes pity on Quinn and tries to get him employed away from ringside perils. The blooming MARTY (1955)-ish romance between Quinn and Harris is perhaps a bit too good to be true and occurs rather too suddenly for this cynical viewer but it does not in any way detract from the film's stifling recreation of the seamy ambiance –strikingly similar to that of THE HUSTLER (1961), also featuring Jackie Gleason – aided in no small measure by Arthur J. Ornitz's noir-ish lighting and Laurence Rosenthal's jazzy score, not to mention the appearance of real-life boxing pros such as Cassius Clay (playing himself as one of Quinn's ringside opponents) and Jack Dempsey.

Ralph Nelson was an erratic director with pretensions: I've watched 8 of his films so far and a few more have been numerous times on TV – FATHER GOOSE (1964), ONCE A THIEF (1965), THE WRATH OF GOD (1972) – so I guess I should make an extra effort now to catch them the next time they're on; REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT, while actually his debut film, remains possibly his most satisfying work all round and deservedly earned him a nod from the Directors' Guild of America.

It's easy to pick out Jack Dempsey and Muhammed Ali, but there are many others in the cast. The movie fades in on a tracking shot running the length of a hotel bar, examining the faces of a bunch of retired boxers watching the Clay-Rivera fight on TV. In order of appearance: Alex Miteff (wearing a beret), Abe Simon (with an eyebrow bandage), Gus Lesnevich (holding a cigarette lighter), Steve Belloise (bald guy; he later plays the hotel bar desk clerk in a short exchange with Mickey Rooney), Rory Calhoun (black guy with a beer), Paolo Rossi (big Italian-looking guy with a beer), Willie Pep (wearing a fedora), and Barney Ross (the older guy in the suit, sweater, and tie).

The sport of professional boxing takes another beating in this tragic and powerful re-make of the Rod Serling Playhouse 90 teleplay. The film opens from the viewpoint of Mountain Rivera, a once ranked heavyweight, being pummeled by a youthful Cassius Clay. Rivera loses the fight, beaten so senseless that when asked where he is (NYC) he responds "I'm in Pittsburgh and its raining". When the the fight doctor examines him he makes it clear this broken down pug is all washed up. This puts his manager Maish in a bind since he bet Mountain wouldn't get past the fourth round with some thugs who also lost money because of his guarantee. Maish needs cash fast and the only way he can get it is to get his washed up fighter to wrestle. Rivera considers it degrading (remember it's 1962) and refuses.

Requiem is top heavy with strong performances from its quartet of leads. Jackie Gleason as sleazy Maish is given more to work with here than his Oscar nominated Minnesota Fats. He's a desperate man, wracked with guilt but ready to sell out Mountain to stay breathing. Mickey Rooney gives probably his finest adult performance as Army, the trainer who has Mountain's best interest at heart. Julie Harris as the social worker assigned to find him employment seems incapable of giving anything less than solid performances in everything she does and she does not disappoint here. Then there is Anthony Quinn doing what he does best but this time with a battered machismo that's barely holding together. Body broken, dreams shattered, he is a combination of punchy and naive; a hulking gruesome monster, but still a child inside. His plight is uneasy to witness and Quinn in conveying it has never been better.

Also deserving mention is night club owner and performer Madame Spivy playing Ma, the hood owed money. Dressed in a man's trench coat and hat she displays an offbeat menace with a clipped sardonic delivery that makes more than clear she is a woman not to be trifled with.

Director Ralph Nelson keeps things claustrophobic and low lit to emphasize the grim existence of the characters far from the big paydays and glamor of pay per view in Vegas. Their futures seem about as bright as the dark rooms they live in and the empty deserted streets they walk.

While it may not rank as one of the great fight films of all time,(unrestored cuts from the original print hamper the film's rhythm) Heavyweight's combination of excellent acting and story make it worth going the distance.

A sad, heartbreaking, and somewhat disturbing story. Quinn is totally believable as Mountain Rivera, a boxer who, perhaps, has been in the game too long and finds himself forced out. While his world-weary cut man (Rooney) is protective of him to an extent, his manager (Gleason) only views Rivera as a paycheck. An unemployment agency staff person (Miller) sees something in Rivera that prompts him to go above and beyond the call of duty to help him get a job. All of the leads are extremely good. It appears that most of the film takes place in the dark, highlighting the seamy side of boxing. The only daytime scene is when Rivera visits the unemployment office, and even then, it appears that the place has no windows to see outside. The office is just as closed up and restricted as Rivera's limited choices after his career ends. The actress who portrayed the underworld figure that Rivera's manager has a connection to was appropriately evil and creepy. The very last scene, filled with a sense of finality and resignation, is powerful.