When life delivers the punches, it's best you not have a glass
chin. The story of the down 'n out pugilist is a familiar one that Hollywood
loves to revisit as frequently as possible. When it comes to sports as life
microcosm there's nothing better than the mano-a-mano slugfest between
practitioners of the sweet science battling for a slice of redemption. A
similar story plays out in Noah Buschel's measured, gritty, and somewhat muted Glass Chin, a film that excels
in noir atmosphere and wonderfully-composed performances by the cast.
The ever reliable Corey Stoll plays
ex-boxer Bud Gordon, a Manhattan brawler who had it all once upon a time. Bud's
weakness wasn't his talent in the squared circle, but his vices outside of it;
his "glass chin" so to speak. No longer living high in Manhattan,
he's stuck in a cramped New Jersey apartment with his Buddhist girlfriend Ellen
(Marin Ireland) arguing about things they never had to worry about before.
While she's ready to find a job and move forward, Bud still believes a comeback
is around the corner. He doesn't necessarily want a return to the squared
circle, but maybe something to offset the costly failure of his restaurant
venture. For living old glories, Bud trains an up and coming young boxer at a
rundown gym in the city. If he'll never fight again, at least Bud can help turn
this kid into a champion, and maybe steer him clear of the pitfalls that felled
his own career.
But life has a funny way of delivering a
perfectly timed body blow, and when Bud is at his most vulnerable that's when
quirky, menacing gangster J.J. (Billy Crudup) slithers into his life.
Charismatic and charming, if oddly obsessed with social networking and his
number of Twitter followers, J.J. makes Bud an offer he can't refuse. Come back
to work for him in some undefined manner and he'll help revive Bud's old
restaurant, and maybe even move the gym to Manhattan where it can thrive. Of
course it's a bad idea; like blindly signing a contract with Don King, but Bud
is out of options if he ever wants to be the man he used to be again.
And it's in exploring Bud's fractured
sense of self-worth that Glass Chin is best. How far will one go to reclaim the
past? How much does one's personal integrity cost? It's these internal concerns
that anchor the film as a broader criminal plot emerges, one that sees Bud
set-up for a crime he didn't commit. Buschel casts a dreary, menacing
atmosphere, showing the same gifted hand seen in his underrated mystery, The
Missing Person. Although in this case his supporting characters are
considerably more bizarre, like they just hitched a ride in from Sin City. Crudup's exaggerated
performance as J.J. is a highlight, but the real scene-stealer is Yul Vazquez
(Seinfeld fans will recognize him instantly) as the murderous chatterbox,
Roberto. Even stranger are meaningless, drug-fueled scenes with Inherent Vice breakout, Katherine Waterston as a
ring girl named Petals. And then there's Stoll, holding everything together
with another strong performance as the tragic, well-meaning hero.
Atmosphere and acting are never a problem,
but slow pacing is definitely worth a point deduction on the scorecard. Even at
87 minutes Bud's story moves along too gradually, and those hoping to see at
least some boxing scenes will come away disappointed. Domestic squabbles
between Bud and Ellen about life philosophies and their uncertain future don't
quite have the punch of later conversations between the men, who are all
dealing with some degree of identity crisis. Oftentimes resembling a poor man's
David Mamet, Glass Chin is a sturdy drama delivering some
heavy emotional blows, even if it doesn't score a knockout.
Rating: 3 out of 5
