Before The Fighter ultimately made it to the theater -- where it has gained significant award momentum and plenty of outright wins -- there were questions whether any of us would ever get to see it. The start and stop woes of Mark Wahlberg's pet project had articles and rumors floating in the trades right up until the film's premiere about whether it would release -- and clobber the competition -- or whether it would waste away on a studio shelf. But it muscled through, and is now a best picture nominee in what's becoming an increasingly volatile Oscar race -- the blue-collar Massachusetts movie of the year, sidelining The Town (among the other things that sidelined The Town; I'll write separately about that). This new "ten" thing (which I loathe -- have I mentioned that?) is the equivalent of the Baskin Robbins of Best Pictures. There's a color wheel of flavors -- one of each gets a spot. There's only room for one film from Southie, Mr. Affleck, even if The Fighter didn't technically take place in Southie. I'll expand and expound later in a separate entry.
The Fighter: What can be said?
As previously mentioned in the Globe round-up, I climbed through the post-Christmas blizzard to see The Fighter: stalled trains, snow drifts, frozen stairs, cold ridden audience members with the inability to cover mouths or reign their various ill-noises into what I would call "inside ailment" levels. Keep it down, yo! We've all got different levels of sneezing -- you're at the movies! So this was the frame of mind I was in when seeing the picture. It's highly possible that the fact I wasn't "wowed" is due entirely to the cocktail of nonsense I had to swim through, merely to land in a spring-loaded Lincoln Square seat. But unlike The Beach -- another film I saw amidst a spectrum of annoyance -- I have not had the drive to head to the theaters and right what may be Fighter-wrongs.
My hat is obviously off to Mark Wahlberg and his brilliant decision to become the producer of both his own projects and other successful television series where he producer is his sole role -- "Entourage" and the new HBO award juggernaut "Boardwalk Empire." Like Lancaster and Beatty before him, Wahlberg's at the wheel. Whether or not he is going to be able to parlay his producing power into one where he nails down the right projects as he moves forward is the question. Having chose project like the underrated We Own The Night -- it's actually good, I swear -- and now The Fighter, it looks like Mark is going to chart his own path toward Oscar glory. Perhaps it will be as a producer -- as he is nominated this year -- but perhaps Dirk Diggler will finally get the gold.
Admittedly, I was surprised to see Wahlberg's name absent from least of actor nominees -- especially considering Amy Adams, Christian Bale, and Melissa Leo -- basically all the remaining cast members with actually defined characters -- were nominated. I wonder if it comes as any comfort to Mark that he wouldn't have stood a chance in the actor category anyway -- then again, this is an Oscar nomination we're talking about and it is Marky "Let me in the house!" Mark. I only hope he didn't behead a dog -- I'm sure he didn't.
Surprising too is the fact that Mark's Mickey Ward is about the only character in The Fighter to go through some kind of change and to have an actual character arc -- rather than a consistent loop of the exact same tricks from start to finish. He may ultimately make the same mistakes. He may have a consistent Achilles heel. But as Mickey Ward, the audience is given a chance to see a bit of the spirit that pulled the young Mark Wahlberg out of the streets of Southie and into traffic stopping Calvin Klein ads where Americans from coast to coast could "Feel the Vibrations!" This character has all the elements of a classic cinematic boxer -- blue collar, outmatched, local joke, falling in love, pulling himself up by his bootstraps, with the drama of his life coalescing right there in his corner of the ring. Mark played it perfectly.
Additionally, Amy Adams is the perfect antithesis of Adrian. She doesn't take crap from anybody, not the crazy band of sisters who wants to claw her eyes out, not the drug addict brother, not the enabling mother, not even the boxer himself -- the love of her life. She's the perfect match for the man who is desperate to succeed. How could he have done it without her? To slap some more praise onto the young Ms. Adams, one must point out the continued selection of varied characters and projects the wee miss has chosen over the years: Catch Me If You Can, Junebug, Enchanted, Doubt, Julie & Julia. There seems nothing this cute as a button can't do -- and she jumps in with both feet, wholeheartedly. With a couple of deft moves, this persistent supporting actress could well find herself the American Kate Winslet -- the constant nominee who finally finds herself with an awards year that has her name written all over it. This year, however, does not belong to her.
It seems -- by all accounts and previous ceremonies -- that the supporting actress Oscar belongs to Melissa Leo. Though she's been working for nearly thirty years in film and television, Ms. Leo has only received true award calibre recognition since her nominated work in Frozen River. Since then, Leo has been a firm member of the award contender projects -- such as this year's award misstep, Conviction and what looks like a lock for The Fighter. I detract nothing from Melissa Leo's performance -- which I think was fantastic. As an actress, she brought everything to the role that she could. This is a clearly defined woman, an enabling mother who may well sink her only promising son, the kind of lady many of us have come across and have left us worried about the fate of their children. My issue is that as mother Alice Ward, there isn't a great deal of variety to what is required of Melissa Leo. I suppose because the role is in the supporting category it is given more latitude and since the flaw is in the construction of the character -- one can't hold it against the performer. But it's just cigarette after cigarette, dumb decision after dumb decision, train-wreck after train-wreck. It grows tedious. If that's the point -- wonderful. Frankly, I just wish there had been another one.
Sadly, the same goes for Mr. Batman Bale who may well walk away with an Oscar if the Weinstein's can't throw Geoffrey Rush in his way. With Andrew Garfield and Matt Damon out of the way -- with The Town virtually limited to Jeremy Renner's nomination and with John Hawkes' nod seemingly a victory in itself -- this battle seems between two men. There has been a place in my heart for Christian Bale since Empire of the Sun. Obviously, Christian was in the hands of Steven Spielberg and spouting the words of Tom Stoppard -- an incredible survival story of a young British boy, separated from his parents, living through World War II in a prison camp in China. It is one of the greatest child performances of all time. More than twenty years later, Bale is still in the game, poised to win best supporting actor. But is this a nod to the significant movies he has been making lately or is this recognition for this specific performance? In The Fighter, the most significant element seems to be Christian Bale's weight-loss -- and frankly, didn't he lose a lot more for The Machinist? I seem in the vast minority and I am a Bale fan, but it seems such a one note performance. Bale seems capable of so much more than this role allowed him -- perhaps the Academy should wait to award him then.
Then there's David O. Russel -- the man at the helm. Russel has had a volatile career his most notable achievement in the press being a murky feud with George Clooney over Three Kings -- an excellent movie that also starred Wahlberg and proved itself to be a highly prescient film about American presence in the Middle East. But somehow, during the turn of the century, the rise of the Clooney star, and the in flux of a generation of hot new directors -- Russel got lost in the shuffle. It was completely bizarre and I still don't fully understand what went on there. I'm happy to see this director who arrived on the scene with the excellent Spanking the Monkey and Flirting with Disaster is now recognized with an Oscar nomination as director. That he is among the five rather than Christopher Nolan is a mind-blower to me -- but I begrudge him nothing. My question for both the director and the trio of writers of The Fighter is why the same notes were hit again and again in this tale of Mickey Ward. Was that the case? Is that the point of this story in a Scorsese way? Am I a studio flunky who wants more dramatic progression whether or not it's legitimate?
I accept my role as naysayer on this one. I'm a huge fan of all the parties involved and all their work. Perhaps on view two I'll be eating my words.
- Matthew J. McCue
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