Hollywood is often nothing more than an assembly line that produces the same story again and again for mass audiences who are drawn to the comfort of familiarity. Invariably, any recent year’s top-grossing films will be composed mostly of sequels and comic-book adaptations. This year alone has already seen a number of films adhering to some of the most popular narrative formulas — the romantic comedy (Trainwreck), the high school comedy (The DUFF), the inspirational sports movie (McFarland) — along with two Marvel films and Jurassic World, which is now the #3 film of all-time at the box office despite having no reason to exist beyond the purely financial. Sometimes, however, one of these films is lucky enough to land a lead actor who gives such an extraordinary, singular performance that the entire film is elevated. Such is the case for the new film Southpaw, from director Antoine Fuqua (Training Day, Olympus Has Fallen). What ordinarily would have been a mediocre, predictable film becomes something very special thanks to the astonishing work of star Jake Gyllenhaal.
Southpaw has a story that you’ve seen many times before. Gyllenhaal stars as Billy Hope, a world heavyweight champion boxer living in New York City with his wife Maureen (Rachel McAdams) and daughter Leila (Oona Laurence). Billy and Maureen both having grown up in the foster system, they never quite seem at home in the wealthy society they now inhabit, and both have retained their rougher edges despite living in luxury. Billy is on top of the world and his career is thriving. But, when tragedy strikes, Billy unravels and loses his family, his home, and his career. Banned from boxing professionally, Billy secures a custodial job at a run-down gym owned by Tick Wills (Forest Whitaker), and slowly begins to put the pieces of his life back together.
This film is the ultimate fallen-hero redemption narrative, and it’s a Hollywood formula so well-worn that any shrewd viewer can map out the entire film before having seen it. That it’s so paint-by-numbers is undeniably a disappointment, especially since it’s the first feature film written by Kurt Sutter (FX’s Sons of Anarchy), and you know he can do better than this. Nevertheless, Sutter has created some vivid characters here, and — even when, like in so many Hollywood films, the supporting characters are underwritten — the cast does a remarkable job of bringing them to life.
Naomie Harris (Skyfall) in particular is impressive in the way she takes what is on the page a two-dimensional social worker character and breathes life into her so that she actually seems like a human being with a personality. Beau Knapp (Run All Night) appears in just a scene or two early on as Jon Jon, a hanger-on in Billy’s entourage before the fall, but he too gives some genuine life to his character that’s nowhere in the script. It’s really only Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, as Billy’s manager, who isn’t able to elevate his thinly written supporting character.
McAdams is an actress that Hollywood has never known what to do with, saddling her with one dull love-interest role after another, but here she has a fascinating character to play. Maureen is a tough girl from the streets who has learned to be softer now that she and her husband are rich, but that gutter side of her is never too far beneath the surface. It’s strong work. Whitaker, meanwhile, has another meaty role to work with, but unfortunately he’s stuck playing the Magical Negro stereotype here — Tick has tragedy in his past that’s hinted at, and Whitaker plays every scene with a slow, profound sadness that is quite affecting, but his backstory is never explored and his motivations remain a mystery. Ultimately, he merely serves as yet another black figure whose only purpose is to help the white hero find his way. Still, I must give credit to Whitaker for imbuing Tick with this much emotional depth; the filmmakers may not have been interested in defining anything at all about his past, but Whitaker manages to convey the enormous toll his past has taken on his present, and it’s riveting.
But the main event here is Gyllenhaal, and good lord has he risen to the occasion. Bulked up beyond recognition, and with a face marred at all times by cuts and bruises, Gyllenhaal channels his primal beast both inside and outside the ring. When he’s fighting, Billy is nothing but animalistic brutality, punching and grunting and bleeding and snarling. He’s no longer a rational human, but pure masculine savagery — and it’s jaw-dropping to remember that this is the same actor who, just last fall, was an emaciated, bulging-eyed weasel in Nightcrawler and the same actor who earned an Oscar nomination ten years ago for playing the deep, soulful Jack Twist (“Jack Nasty!”) in Brokeback Mountain. Out of the ring, Billy is a lit fuse, often grappling with anger issues. In an otherwise formulaic film, Billy is utterly unpredictable, and frequently frightening. Watch Gyllenhaal’s face throughout the film when Billy reacts to events that upset him. Notice the raw fury in his eyes, the way you can see him considering a million different ways to react. He wants to will himself to find his humanity and respond in a reasonable way, but simultaneously he realizes that he can’t hold back the animal within. In moments like that, Southpaw becomes an electrifying film that you experience deep in your gut. When Billy eventually learns how to keep the animal at bay, Gyllenhaal makes it a thrilling triumph.
Fuqua, his craft having been honed on a series of muscular, manly flicks, directs with style and intensity. There’s a pleasing restless energy running through the film, where it feels like everything is at stake, even during the quieter moments. The boxing matches in particular are spectacularly executed — so much so that they made even me, who positively loathe the primitive brutality of boxing, cheer from the edge of my seat. Cinematographer Mauro Fiore and editor John Refoua (both of Avatar) have done some strong, kinetic work.
Gyllenhaal is proving over and over that he is one of the most versatile and exciting actors working in film today. Billy Hope is Gyllenhaal at his most stunningly committed; he manages to slip fully inside this broken man, and it’s unlike any other character the actor has played. This is not a mere performance; this is one of those magical and rare moments in cinema where an actor manages to channel another human being through his body and soul. It’s without question the best film performance so far this year. No, Southpaw is not original or innovative, and you’ll recognize bits and pieces of many other films you’ve seen before. But Jake Gyllenhaal gives such a masterful, transcendent performance that this becomes a must-see.
