The 2004 Oscars were very exciting for me. Though I missed the beginning, I was there to watch Return of the King
pick up an award in all the remaining categories for which it had been
nominated. It was thrilling to see a film for which I had so much
passion receive such resounding recognition from the distinguished
Academy. This year, I didn’t really care. I was mildly interested, but I
had no personal stake in it since I’d only seen a couple films under
consideration, and those were just in editing categories. There was
hardly a Jacksonesque clean sweep this time around, but Million Dollar Baby
still managed to fare quite well, garnering awards in four major
categories. As I watched the end of the ceremony, I couldn’t help but be
a bit intrigued about this film that was getting so much attention.
When my dad later saw it and gave it his stamp of approval, I knew it
wouldn’t be too long before I checked it out for myself.
I
finally got around to it last week. I can’t say I’m too fond of boxing
as a sport. Watching two people try to knock each other out is more
likely to make me cringe than cheer. Nonetheless, Far and Away is
one of my favorite films, so I wasn’t going to prejudice myself against
the movie on that account. I was also warned that the movie was a bit
of a downer, which tends to make me rather reluctant to watch a film. I
don’t usually go to the cinema to get depressed. Still, if Million Dollar Baby
ends on a tragic note, the echoes of triumph can’t be denied. In any
case Clint Eastwood has another fine film to add to his intimidating
resume.
Eastwood portrays gruff trainer Frankie Dunn. He’s
skillful in spying and cultivating talent in the boxing ring, but he’s
weighed down by a burden that prevents him from taking potential
champions to the highest level. His is a lonely life, and at the start
of the movie his only meaningful relationship is with Eddie Dupris
(Morgan Freeman), a former prizefighter who now helps run Frankie’s
training center. Frankie has more than boxing woes to pester his
conscience; each week he receives unopened letters from his daughter, a
visible reminder of their estranged relationship. Perhaps that is part
of the reason he is so reluctant to accept the task of training Maggie
Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank), though it probably has more do with fears
that he will put her into a situation in which she is not properly
protected. Certainly he has a hefty load of guilt on his shoulders, as
his beleaguered priest points out.
Swank turns in a sincere
performance as determined, endlessly optimistic Maggie. Frankie tries to
thwart her attempts to join his gym again and again, but she
perseveres, practicing long into the night and always insisting upon
each meeting with him that he is the only trainer for her. She is
fiercely loyal, curiously so before he finally gives her the time of
day. One explanation is that she craves a challenge and sees him as the
man who can take her where she wants to go. Another is that, as she
confides later, he reminds her of her father. It’s amusing to observe
his frustration as she shows up, day after day, with a smile on her face
and the slightest indication that she may be receiving a little inside
help.
Eddie seems to be far more in control of things than
Frankie. He’s accepted his lot in life and is spared the torture of the
demons that haunt his friend, even when they involve him. Initially, it
is he who gets in Maggie’s corner and refuses to abandon her. He is a
benevolent if rather grimy presence, always willing to help the
underdog. When Frankie finally accepts responsibility for getting Maggie
into gear, Eddie remains as a mentor and comforter, while focusing his
physical energy on young Danger Barch (Jay Baruchel), an eager but inept
young man with a heart inversely proportional to his mental capacities.
Freeman brings boundless grace to each scene in which he appears, and
he acts as a calming, confidential narrator. I confess I did sometimes
find him – and occasionally Swank as well – difficult to understand, but
not so much that I couldn’t follow what was happening. All three lead
actors play well off each other, lending warmth and believability to
their portrayals.
The look of the film is dark and gritty,
mostly taking place in Frankie’s dimly lit center or some boxing ring in
the center of a packed arena. Though an advertisement for The Apprentice
places the action firmly in the present, there is usually little to
indicate just what the time period is. The gas station they patronize
looks like it could have come straight out of the fifties. I’m guessing
this is to indicate that they live in a rather backwards community. I
found Frankie’s fascination with Ireland an intriguing part of his
character, and his appreciation for William Butler Yeats and silken
Gaelic garments taps into something undeniably sweet beneath his harsh
exterior.
Though the film’s conclusion has been deemed
controversial by some, there’s little in this film that should offend.
There are a couple heinous acts by unaccountably brash individuals, but
it seems Eastwood’s intentions are always to extol the virtues of love
and loyalty, faith and fortitude. While I generally consider profanity
as polluting to my ears as cigarette smoke is to my nose, I couldn’t
help but be amused by the single use of the f-word in this film. Usually
the single instance of that word allowed in a PG-13 movie is a
throwaway, leaving you wondering why they even bothered to insert it.
Here it certainly gets the audience’s attention by its unlikely
placement, cementing the movie’s impression that when it comes to the
really tough theological questions, you have to battle things out for
yourself. Moreover, there are no easy solutions, but greater fulfillment
may lie along the more difficult path.
Million Dollar Baby is a movie that encourages its audience to think and to feel. For that, it is well worth the millions of dollars it generated.
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