The Fighter (2010)

Remember David O. Russell? The emotionally volatile film director turned Hollywood wonder-boy who had a string of back to back Oscar nominated films in the early part of the decade. Touted by many as the next Scorsese, Russell's films cast a spell on the filmgoing public. Perhaps some of that was all apart of a ruse. Silver Lining's Playbook is a good adaptation of a great novel, but too forgettable to be a masterpiece and too corny to be as heart-wrenching as it wanted to be. In 2013, I was smitten by American Hustle, which rattled my brain for what I thought was a GoodFellas of the new millennium. What I now realize is how manipulative and stylistic of an experiment that movie was. You might as well have sold it in can titled "I Can't Believe it's Not Scorsese!". This all culminated in Joy, a self important mess of a film. The spell was broken. By that point, David O. Russell was reduced to a man of plastic realities, and nobody ever heard from him again. So, as I sat down to watch The Fighter, I noticed something. Truthfully, this is the best film that David O. Russell has ever made. One that made him a top-tier filmmaker to watch. Ironically, this is his least plastic, stylistic and frilly movie of his catalogue. His brilliant gifts as a filmmaker come alive and in full color when he just tells a real story, with real characters. That's what The Fighter is. 

It's the story of Micky and Dicky Ward. Dick is "the pride of Lowell", or he was, until he got hooked on crack. Long gone is his heyday of beating Sugar Ray in the ring. He's just another Mass townie. His brother Micky looks up to him, for it's his turn to re-fill the shoes that Dicky left behind. Micky wants to break out all on his own. He wants to be a champ. But he's stuck living in Dicky's shadow, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that Dicky is a human train-wreck who constantly needs bailing out. If that weren't enough, Micky's mother is his own manager, and his endless army of sisters fight for his attention. Micky is drowning in family. This affects his ability to fight. But what keeps Micky going is a beautiful bartender named Charlene, who's the only one that makes him feel like someone. 

David O. Russell clearly knows what makes boxing movies work. He's clearly seen Raging Bull. The man behind the glove is what really powers the punch. In Micky's case, every day is a knockout. Russell focuses like a laser on these characters. Places them in depth and fully establishes their motivations. Moreover, these are real people. Nobody overacts here. There's simply no need. It's a tour-de-force in that sense. Do I even need to mention Christian Bale? This is his best on-screen role by a mile. It's interesting how this film even includes the HBO crew that was filming the life and times of Micky and Dicky during the course of this story. In a way, it's almost as if that crew left the cameras on and we are getting to see the raw footage of what they got. It's that genuine of a product. That's more than anyone has ever said about David O. Russell's other films, and maybe that was what has been missing all along.