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There are film titles that on the surface appear simple and clean, but underneath boil with mysterious intensity. Walter Hill's The Driver, Mark Robson's Champion, and Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samourai are all sublime examples of clipped, focused titles that soon become ambiguous pictures of convoluted turmoil. These films take their titles seriously in that they define not only what their protagonists do for a living, but what they represent. These films also add artistic weight to their archetypal figures and stories by injecting them with personal style: Hill and Melville use near-wordless minimalism, while Robson uses action and sharply written dialogue. The simultaneously revelatory and concealing power of a stark title, however, is no guarantee for a Melville-like film (The Postman, for instance). Jim Sheridan's newest film, The Boxer, is the perfect example. Often playing like both a Rocky story and a gritty Warner Bros. hoodlum film, The Boxer has neither the purity nor the understated significance of its prototypes. The dialogue is trite and cliché-ridden, the love story a bit boring and the political turmoil too easily mechanized as "potent stuff." Negating the simplicity of its wonderful title, the film slops around with badly timed scenes that interrupt any potential for intensity. With a film entitled The Boxer, we want to focus on the fighter as the tumult crashes around him: We want to see his enigmatic concentration and pain, and we want to see it subtly--very subtly. Daniel Day-Lewis is the perfect choice to play Danny Flynn, a 32-year-old Belfast boxer who, at the movie's onset, has just been released from a 14-year prison sentence for his involvement in the IRA. Having lost his chance at being a contender in both the ring and in marriage (to his beloved Maggie, played by Emily Watson of Breaking the Waves), Danny is a haunted though somewhat renewed man. In one effective scene, he breaks down the barricades to his home upon returning to Belfast, exhibiting his desire to win back his career and the woman he loves. Along with his burned-out alcoholic ex-trainer, Ike (Ken Stott), Danny rebuilds his old boxing club and opens it up as a nonsectarian facility (Catholics and Protestants together) where boys can learn to fight. Danny also attempts to rebuild his relationship with Maggie, who is now married to his best friend, a political prisoner still in jail. Maggie's father, a powerful IRA boss (Brian Cox), and Danny's former IRA buddies forbid the lovers' reunion: A wife should never cheat on her husband when he's serving time for the cause, and Danny should know better. Their love, as well as Danny's chances at success, mirrors the battleground in which they live, as festering tensions reach a boiling point with horrifying conclusions. But not horrifying enough. Unlike Sheridan's other Day-Lewis collaboration, In the Name of the Father, The Boxer falls short in significantly moving the viewer to think about the plight of Ireland and the doomed situations of the characters. The script (by Sheridan and Terry George) is poorly written and often embarrassing; the direction (including the fight sequences) is unspectacular; and the issues are handled in an unfocused manner that takes away from much of what the film could have excelled at: examining the fascinating character of Danny Flynn. A testament to his acting excellence, Day-Lewis does as much as possible with his anemic role. He looks great--and younger than usual--but not pretty, and there is sadness and unresolved anger in his face. Though his character has thrown his life away in jail, Day-Lewis doesn't play his emotions in a predictably bitter manner. He is wonderfully understated, even shy at times. In his wearisome love scenes with Watson, Day-Lewis is remarkably boyish, yet virile and cool. Though the lovers often utter inane dialogue, Day-Lewis rises above the material through simple gestures: the way he touches Watson's hair or holds a wrinkled smile. The best scene of the film occurs in a stereotypical male vs. female moment. Watson slaps Day-Lewis in the face, and after the hit, he just looks at her with a warm smile while blood trickles down from his nose and onto his teeth. This is a beautiful moment. But even though Day-Lewis is superb, he cannot save the film; it is much too tedious and far removed from its protagonist's significance to work on deeper levels. What's needed is an Elia Kazan (On the Waterfront) or a Monte Hellman (Cockfighter) to create both a potent film and a character study. If Sheridan had simply stuck to Danny--"the boxer"--and really thought of what his title means, this film could have been powerfully elegiac. |
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