There's no such thing as an undramatic boxing movie. They're made
to be melodramatic, triumph of the human spirit stories that deliver
gut-wrenching and affecting body blows. The one-on-one battle in the ring is
often secondary to the one-on-one battle with life, and as such boxing movies
tend to be extremely formulaic. Why not? They all work, so why switch things
up? Antoine Fuqua's long-developing Southpaw definitely doesn't try to switch
up its stance; the punches it lands are familiar yet impactful due to the aggressive,
committed performance by star Jake Gyllenhaal.
The dedication Gyllenhaal shows goes beyond the ripped physique,
which is pretty extraordinary given his skeletal form in Nightcrawler. It's the
way he slips and slides around the ring and through life like a seasoned
veteran of the squared circle. It's in the droopy-eyed, punch-drunk stare of
someone who has taken a few too many shots to the head. Ever seen some of the
loopy, mumbling interviews with Mickey Ward or Arturo Gatti (Ward was depicted in The Fighter
a few years ago) after their legendary trilogy of brawls? Gyllenhaal clearly
has, and combined with a certain street-level braggadocio it makes for a
stunningly unique performance. It's important to remember that screenwriter
Kurt Sutter (Sons of Anarchy) initially developed this film as a starring role
for Eminem, and one can easily see how Southpaw and 8 Mile relate as gritty
stories about overcoming one's station in life. 
The ironically-named Billy Hope (Gyllenhaal) is the kind of boxer
every fan would love. He "fights in a phone booth"; taking the kind
of punishment Rocky Balboa would quiver in fear at, and then unleashes a
crushing attack to defeat his opponents. While this style has made Billy
popular and extremely rich, it's beginning to take a toll, one that his
long-suffering but loyal wife Maureen (Rachel McAdams) can no longer abide.
Their whip-smart daughter Leila (Oona Laurence) has to come first, although
Billy's shady promoter (Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson) has eyes on a
lucrative contract with HBO that would set them for life. So Billy seemingly
has it all, including the Light Heavyweight championship; but a violent
encounter with an overzealous contender leads to a tragedy that takes it all
away. It doesn't take long for Billy to crash and burn in a torrent of alcohol,
violence, and suicidal tendencies, until the government swoops in to take the
one thing he has left: his daughter. With no family, no friends, no money, and
no career, Billy does the only thing he can do by going to train at a
neighborhood gym under the Yoda-like guidance of former boxer, Titus
"Tick" Wills (Forest Whitaker). 
What unfolds is a fairly traditional, old school boxing story of
redemption, with Billy working his way up from nothing to be a better man than
he used to be. Where the film slightly deviates from the normal path is that it
also shows Billy's development into a better boxer, one that doesn't need to
get pummeled to win. If you guessed that means a series of boxing montages set
to an inspiring score then you're right, and while these moments are uplifting
there needed to be more to Billy's climb back to the top. However, Sutter's
screenplay too often lunges for the emotional knock-out, taking scenes a notch
too far. From the daughter's "I hate you" attitude which emerges out
of nowhere; to an odd scene in which Billy attempts murderous revenge (a scene
which includes a pointless cameo by Rita Ora) while in total despair.
Characters are established solely for the purpose of having them die later, as
there isn't a heartstring that Sutter won't pluck. Does it work? Sure; schmaltz
often does. If only there was as much meat to this story as muscle put on by
Gyllenhaal. 
It's easy to see what drew Fuqua to this project. He makes movies
for alpha males, the kind where tough men, silent men overcome back-breaking
adversity. Southpaw fits the bill, and Fuqua relishes the chance to shoot the
violent in-ring action. He gets up close and personal so that you feel every
hook, every uppercut. The final match, in which everything Billy hopes for is
on the line, is an epic slugfest that will bring crowds to their feet, but the
effect isn't long-lasting. 
The word "southpaw" isn't simply about being a lefty
puncher, although that is the traditional meaning. It also means a boxer who
fights with an unexpected style, one that leaves his opponent off-guard. By
that definition Southpaw doesn't dare to truly go
"southpaw", opting instead to go for the easy emotional win.
Rating: 3 out of 5
