CINDERELLA MAN (2005)

Boxer James J. Braddock (Russell Crowe) might not have gone down as one of the all-time greats of his era, let alone the history of the sport, but that’s also what made his incredible comeback story so iconic. After amassing an impressive record across almost 50 professional fights, Braddock narrowly lost a title fight against Tommy Loughran in 1929, resulting in a crushed spirit and a badly fractured right hand. For the next half-decade his career saw a major slump, where he lost almost twice as many fights as he won. The Great Depression coincided with his dwindling boxing career, forcing him to take up work as a longshoreman to provide for his family. In order to carry out this manual labour he had to rely on his left hand, gradually amassing more strength in it over time until it became his dominant hand. Not long after, Braddock would undergo one of the most impressive turnarounds in combat sports history, going on to defeat light-heavyweight champion Max Baer in a massive upset.

While he was still a talented fighter for this era, what’s most notable about Braddock was his heart, whether that was an iron chin or his unwillingness to give up in the face of adversity. Despite being counted out from the get-go before his fight with Baer, he was always willing to enter the brutal—sometimes fatal—dance of combat, stating: “When you’ve been through what I’ve had to face in the last two years, a Max Baer or a Bengal tiger looks like a house pet.” In many ways, Cinderella Man, Ron Howard’s biopic about Braddock’s life, is devoted to its subject not just in content, but in essence, too. Though Howard is a technically proficient director, which is at its most apparent in this film’s recreations of half a dozen or so boxing fights throughout Braddock’s career, this movie is still a gaudy, overly sentimental life story that neatly slots into Hollywood’s love affair with safe biopics which tell viewers that the world is an essentially good place, its inhabitants are decent people, and the American Dream is alive and well.

Of course, it’s difficult to accept that latter point at face value when movies of this kind are focused on truly exceptional human beings like Braddock; if it’s only the exceptions to the rule that overcome great hardship, what does that say about the rest of humanity’s suffering? Cinderella Man has no interest in asking, let alone answering, that kind of question. It’s not that sort of film. And like with Braddock, this gives it an unvarnished charm, an unbreakable spirit that allows it to overcome the trap of being just another bland and insufferably feel-good biopic.

There are a few elements that cause it to rise above such safe, uncreative fare, with Crowe’s lead performance convincing us to sympathise with Braddock’s hardships and root for his success. Crowe portrays the legendary boxer as a proud family man who must suffer through the lowest of lows to find a way to forge a better life for himself and his family. Even still, Braddock is a little too perfect at points, whether that’s in going without food so his daughter can eat more even when he’s fighting later that evening, forcing his son to return a piece of salami he stole so their family could eat, or appearing even more heartbroken at accepting welfare and other people’s charity than the hardships that poverty has inflicted on his family.

Crowe is often at his best when he portrays noble heroes tested by life’s hardships, and though this isn’t one of his defining roles, he accomplishes that task handsomely once more in Cinderella Man. But it’s Paul Giamatti (Sideways) as Braddock’s manager Joe Gould who provides the standout performance, earning his Academy Award nomination for ‘Best Supporting Actor’ that year. While Giamatti is offered the same middling dialogue as the rest of this cast, watching Joe’s loyalty to Braddock and efforts to rile up the struggling boxer before his bouts provides exactly the kind of excitement this story needs. Even if he doesn’t struggle nearly as much as this protagonist, Gould is, in a sense, also a fighter, vicariously living through this boxer as he screams advice and words of encouragement from Braddock’s corner, swinging his arms wildly as if he’s also engaged in a boxing match.

That personal touch, and the endearing qualities that Giamatti brings to this role, are scarcely replicated by Braddock’s family members. His children, like most kids of extraordinary people in biopics, are wallpaper characters, with no more defining traits than the furniture dotted around their house. When the children return home after being sent away to avoid starvation, all screenwriters Cliff Hollingsworth and Akiva Goldsman can think up for them to say are different variations of, “We’re home!” Braddock’s endlessly supportive wife Mae (Renée Zellweger) is a one-note addition to this story who is gratefully livened up by Zellweger’s committed portrayal of a woman trying to support her husband in his attempts to provide for their family, all while doubting whether they can survive these dire conditions and fearing for his safety in the ring. She knows that she is entirely reliant on his success, and just as she can’t bring herself to fully believe they will escape poverty, she is unwilling to ever pressure her husband.

Scenes that emphasise the hardships of the Great Depression aren’t that effective, since one can practically sniff out the comeback story lurking just around the corner. You’re not dragged into the suffering endemic to this world, even if it’s still emotive watching this once-prolific figure reduced to begging for assistance, cap in hand. The climactic fight with Baer is where this film truly shines, never hiding from the dangers of this fight. One of Baer’s previous opponents, Frankie Campbell, died from his injuries after fighting the feared world champion, just one of hundreds of deaths in this sport’s history. Much time is taken to dissuade Braddock from accepting the fight with someone then known as a literal and figurative killer in the ring, hammering home the deadly stakes of this brutal sport.

Even when Braddock makes his walk to the ring, one can’t help but tense up at the hush that descends over its crowd, who anticipate a massacre and look on with pity at the lamb that’s wilfully—yet still unknowingly—walking towards it. A gorgeous point of view shot swoops and curves in a graceful arc, mimicking Braddock’s perspective as he adjusts his body to step through the gap in the ropes, into that squared circle where blood is spilled and blows are dealt. The actual boxing itself isn’t nearly as immersive as the likes of Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull (1980), but hardly anyone watching Cinderella Man anticipates it to match that masterful effort. Instead, it succeeds in being consistently immersive, though the film is at its greatest in that electrifying build-up to the fight, where the entire world seems to spin on an invisible axis beneath the ring where both men will fight with everything they have.

Whether Baer ever did that is open for debate. His antics in the ring-walk for the Braddock fight were matched by his casual attitude in the ring, where he showed little urgency or will to win. Some have speculated that causing the death of another man years before this had crippled him, hampering the killer’s instinct and razor-wire focus that he once possessed. In fact, while he enjoyed the showmanship in boxing, it’s often been said by those closest to him that he was a kind and caring soul, something you would have no way of picking up on in Cinderella Man. Here Baer is a womanising, disrespectful, insulting, cheating brute with no positive characteristics, owing to this film’s commitment to adhering to Hollywood clichés, where Braddock’s final opponent must conform to the role of the generic villain.

This formulaic approach does the movie little favours, and not just for insulting the then-deceased Baer’s legacy. The efforts to portray him as an unrepentant thug never rise above being contrived. Braddock’s victory might technically be against Baer, but on a symbolic level—which is everything in movies about men that take on life itself in a fierce battle—Cinderella Man accomplishes everything it needs to by making us hope that this protagonist will carve out a better life for himself. If it’s looking to sympathise with him as a struggling figure, that Braddock must do this through something as simultaneously glorious and brutal as combat should be less of an honour and more a harrowing sacrifice, where his and his opponents’ health must sadly hang in the balance. Turning Baer into a generic Goliath figure makes it seem as though it would be nothing more than a pleasure to witness this knuckle-dragging foe get defeated, or, better yet, suffer a brutal knockout loss where his limp body hits the canvas with a definitive thud.

We’re already prodded into being on Braddock’s side. He’s the underdog, the disrespected and derided figure, the heroic family man. Simply portraying Baer as a teasing showman with the kind of lifestyle that Braddock could only dream of is enough to make us pray that this hero does the impossible and forges a better future for himself and his wife. Baer is nothing but an obstacle in the way, so why not let him be a human one instead of a gross caricature whose smirk you want to see wiped off his face with a stiff jab? Cinderella Man is excellent at making viewers fear for Braddock’s health, but invites apathy at best, and gleeful anticipation at worst, with regards to its brash villain’s suffering.

Still, the resounding victory for this protagonist (who wins by unanimous decision against Baer after a 15-round bout) solidifies his story as one of total dedication winning against the odds. It’s a triumphant tale that, given its weak scriptwriting at points, has no right to be so heartfelt. But not only does Howard elevate the film’s written material considerably, he’s the perfect director to tackle a project like Cinderella Man. Like Braddock, he’s something of a journeyman, unlikely to ever be seen as an auteur or in the upper echelon of filmmakers in any era, and yet one can’t deny the triumphs he’s earned across his accomplished career. Like the subject of this film, he’s had severe slumps and soaring highs, with eclectic artistic choices that have produced duds and compelling features. And while one never knows what to expect next from Howard, just like Cinderella Man as a whole, this director’s efforts are sincere, endearing, and mostly successful.

USA | 2005 | 144 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Ron Howard.
writers: Cliff Hollingsworth & Akiva Goldsman (story by Cliff Hollingsworth).
starring: Russell Crowe, Renée Zellweger, Paul Giamatti, Craig Bierko, Bruce McGill, Paddy Considine, Connor Price, Ariel Waller & Patrick Louis.