Yeah, sure I do. You were the pride of Lowell. You were my hero, Dicky.
In fairness to those reading this review and those involved in the creation of “The Fighter,” I’m going to confess upfront that expectations probably diminished my enjoyment of what is arguably an impressive, quality film with a number of exceptional (and Oscar-worthy) performances. Before moving to Los Angeles in 2003, when I had the nine-to-five life that made such things possible, I was a boxing fanatic who followed the sport religiously on HBO, Showtime, and pay-per-view; I also subscribed to all the magazines, and mourned the cancellation of the USA Network’s Tuesday Night Fights as though a favorite Aunt had had passed on.
During the 1990’s and the early aughts, there were all kinds of memorable fighters and fights, but nothing like the storied 2002-2003 trilogy between “Irish” Micky Ward and the late, great, and legendary Arturo “Thunder” Gatti.
These two men were never the most talented boxers in their respective weight classes, they were something more. They aspired to greatness in every fight, were incapable of quitting, and had more heart than every superstar, belt-holding millionaire champion put together. We the fans adored these two and when HBO brought them together on May the 18th, 2002, for a fight with no belt or title or championship at stake, everything one loves about the always frustrating and frequently maddening sweet science came together over 10 unforgettable rounds that saw two warriors become living legends. Their second fight was just as good, the third was a rapture beyond my ability to articulate. If you saw it, you know what I mean.
“The Fighter,” unfortunately, roll its credits before any of this takes place. For whatever reason, the filmmakers weren’t interested in the making of an immortal, they were interested in the more provincial aspects of Micky’s (a very good Mark Wahlberg) relationship with his troubled, older brother Dicky (an exceptional Christian Bale) and his difficult mother Alice (an outstanding Melissa Leo). Set in the mid-90’s, when we first meet Micky he’s running out of his prime fighting years at the age of 30, considered nothing more than a stepping stone for bigger names in the fight game, a weekend father, and making ends meet in the city of Lowell, Massachusetts on a road-paving crew. This is a truly decent and gentle man who loves and is loyal to a family that also happens to be his primary problem in life.
Dicky’s an ex-fighter, Micky’s trainer (and a very good though increasingly unreliable one) and something of a local legend. His claim to fame is going toe-to-toe with Sugar Ray Leonard in 1978 and a worsening crack addiction that’s swallowing him alive. As Micky’s manager, Alice is in over her head when dealing with a powerhouse like HBO and frequently makes bad, short-term decisions that help Dicky but damage Micky’s long-term career goals.
Buried in a working class town, suffering through a nowhere job, living in the shadow of his older brother, and all too aware he’s running out of time, Micky meets the woman who will push things with his family until they give, regardless of the consequences. Charlene (Amy Adams) is a college dropout who now tends bar at the local beer joint as she figures out her next move (if there is one). Before long, she and Micky are in love and seeing exactly what’s going on with his family, she urges him to make the kinds of decisions that can only result in one of two things: the family’s relationships will be forever destroyed or they will become healthier and productive, as they should be. Either way, Micky gets out alive with a shot at making something of his life.
Men.
Director David O. Russell does a superb job with his actors and most importantly, thanks to the wise decision to shoot on-location, in capturing the look, feel, and rhythm of life in Lowell. The characters and their relationships are suitably complicated, the story effectively simple and all of the expected plot beats are hit in the beloved genre of the boxing underdog. No complaints there. Good rousing stuff brought to you by likable, talented actors. But…
When the lights came up I felt cheated. You might as well leave the Rumble in the Jungle out of “Ali” or make a film about the Red Sox that ends before their 2004 Worlds Series win. For Micky’s sake, I’m glad he worked through his family relationships and found a good woman and blah, blah, blah. But that’s not what made Micky Ward Micky Ward, and there’s no way around the fact what we have is a working class soap opera while what’s left on the table is isn’t just the greatest story of Micky Ward’s life but also one of the greatest sports stories ever. Furthermore, it’s a piece of sports history too few people know about that deserves to be told.
Listen, I get that it’s terribly unfair to judge a film on what you want it to be as opposed to what it is. But I simply don’t know how to write an honest review any other way. Just too close to this one.
Trilogy against Micky Ward
In 2001, Gatti only had one fight, going up in weight to meet welterweight Oscar de la Hoya, who beat him by a technical knockout in five rounds. In 2002, Gatti returned to the junior welterweight division and defeated former world champion Terronn Millett by a knockout in round four.He then split two ten round decisions with “Irish” Micky Ward, losing their first bout, but winning their second. Gatti-Ward I also earned “fight of the year” honors by Ring Magazine and the 9th round was called the Round of the Century by Emanuel Steward.
On June 7, 2003, he and Ward had a rubber match. Gatti broke his twice-repaired right hand on an uppercut to the hip in the fourth, and he dropped his arm. He fought nearly one-handed for several rounds afterward, using his right sparingly. In the sixth, Gatti dominated the round but got caught with an overhand right to the top of the head a second before the bell rang and went down. Gatti then recovered again and was never in trouble after that. The final scorecards read, 96-93 (twice), and 97-92, in favor of Gatti. The third fight between the two was again named “fight of the year” by Ring Magazine.
In July of 2009, at the age of 37, The Mighty Arturo Gatti was found dead in a hotel room. Initially, Gatti’s wife was charged with his murder but she was later released after the death was ruled a suicide. Truth be told, no one really knows what happened and we probably never will.
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