CINDERELLA MAN

Part of the problem with the boxing film Cinderella Man is that the title of the movie gives the whole plot away. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out before popping the movie into your DVD player that it will be rags-to-riches, failure-to-success, or, in this case, Angela's Ashes-to-Rocky story. That leaves a plot lacking suspense, and with Ron Howard's safe soft-focus direction, a story that is so predictable that it often ends up being dull. There is no point in this movie where you need to pause the DVD, fearing you might miss something important when you go to the loo for five minutes.

Russell Crowe plays James J. Braddock, a burly Irish-American boxer who we meet at the height of his early success as a fighter. He comes home with a wad of cash after his win, tosses his kids in the air after ruffling their hair, and makes out with his wife Mae (Renée Zellweger, in her most earnest mode). Fast forward a few years, and it is 1933, four years into the Depression. Braddock breaks his hand, dismally ending his career in the ring. He tries to pick up odd jobs on the docks while hiding his cast in his sleeve. In the meantime, things are getting tough at home, with fried baloney for dinner, and the constant risk of having the electricity shut off. But still, Jim and Mae hold strong. He might come home empty-handed, but the couple stills finds reason to make-out every time they are in the room together.

Cinderella Man is at its emotional best when the family is at its worst. A standout scene has Braddock go to the good ol' boys club where the fighting promoters sit around smoking cigars in their leather chairs. Crowe is, unsurprisingly, very strong, disappearing into character, making the humbling scene of Braddock begging for handouts painful to watch. But perhaps because of Howard's direction, or maybe even the script, Crowe's Braddock is nothing other than a saint. He is a good GOOD man. No one's going to argue that he deserves his eventual success. But it also denies the film of any risk, of any edge.

Braddock gets his big break when his ex-manager Joe Gould (played by solid, but unchallenged Paul Giamatti) approaches him for a one-off fight against a champ who needs a last-minute competitor. To everyone's surprise (except the audience), Braddock wins, paving the way for the movie-finale face off against heavyweight beast Max Baer. When Craig Beirko shows up as Hollywood-glam Baer, he gives movie some spark with his wickedness and smarm. (Apparently Baer's real-life family is offended at Baer's portrayal as a beastly, foul-mouthed monster, but history can't change the fact that he killed two men in the ring with his punches.) Braddock seems overmatched, but I don't need to tell you how the movie ends. Just look at the film title again.

Cinderella Man has one of those overwrought screenplays that has Renee Zelleger squinting and saying with emotional, day-of-fight passion, "You are the champion of my heart, James J. Braddock!" When our lead character says, "I have to believe, that when things are bad, I can change them..." he practically has a twinkle of hope flash from his eye with a "ding!" There's nothing really wrong with those kinds of lines, I suppose. This IS a classic American underdog movie, afterall. But haven't we heard it all before? This boxing movie is so clean and full of all-American family values, that it wouldn't be out of place as a Hallmark Hall of Fame TV movie—surprising, really, considering this is a movie about a sport where men beat the living crap out of each other.

  DVD NOTES  

Just when you think the story is too good to be true, the DVD offers extras on the real James Braddock, the Depression-era fighter that became a hero to the poor working-class, as well as all of the typical making-of-the-movie mini-docs. Surprisingly good were the deleted scenes. Rather than being throwaway, like the crap that is often included only because they bothered to film it, these deleted scenes are rich and offer more to the story. For instance, we see the emotional moment when Joe Gould tells Braddock that his career is over, and his boxing license has been revoked after he breaks his hand. In the film, you only see Braddock chasing down the promoter, then tearily telling his wife (who then makes out with him). In this deleted scene, you see the affection in the friendship between fighter an manager, as well as Braddock's emotional anguish at the decision—and both actors really get to shine.

Also fun in the extras are an interview with giddy legendary trainer Angelo Dundee explaining the thrill of being on a movie set, and getting to work with actor Crowe. This guy is just happy to be there, and he has the unjaded thrill at seeing his bald head in the background on the big screen just as any of us would. Dundee actually went to Australia to train with Crowe for months, which is recounted in an interesting video diary by Russell Crowe. But probably the most fascinating extra is the inclusion of footage of the actual heavyweight championship fight between Braddock and Baer. One of the segments has Norman Mailer, of all people, narrating part of the fight. Mailer, it turns out, is a huge boxing fan, having written books about the sport, and offers insight into the style of the two boxers. At one point, the Baer's knees buckle under a hit, then he abruptly bounces back unhurt, and jabs Braddock a good one! The real footage undercuts just what a showman Baer was, and it is a treat to watch.