The Fighter: a tale of loyalty, family, and punching

The Fighter is at least partly about punching. But it's about other things, too. That's important when a movie features a lot of punching, as it tends to overshadow the scenes that are cursed with a lack of punching. But if a movie has non-punching scenes that still pack an emotional punch, that's when you know you've got a good movie with punching in it, rather than just a good punching movie.

The Fighter is a good movie with punching in it. In many ways, it fits into the archetypal underdog sports movie mould, in the vein of Rocky or, uh, The Mighty Ducks. Based on a true story, the film follows Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg), an Irish-American welterweight boxer living in the blue-collar city of Lowell, Massachusetts, splitting his time between getting pummelled in the ring and laying tarmac on the street. Micky's older brother Dicky (Christian Bale) is the former 'Pride of Lowell', famed for besting Sugar Ray Leonard back in the day. He's now Micky's part-time trainer and full-time crackhead.

The movie charts Micky's rise from a glorified punching bag to a title contender, complete with appropriately stirring training sequences and surprise turnarounds in the ring. As a simple addition to the 'inspiring underdog story' stable, The Fighter more than holds its own. The punching scenes are effectively shot, maintaining an authentic feel but slowing the action down just enough that we can register the force of every haymaker and body blow.

What elevates the movie from its genre is what's happening outside the ring. Micky's family is a tornado that swirls around him while barely acknowledging his existence. He's henpecked into mismatched fights by his domineering mother Alice (Melissa Leo) and his seven sisters, who are more interested in indulging Dicky's boxing past than supporting Micky's present. Dicky means well, but he has become a liability, failing to turn up for training and getting Micky into trouble with the law. Into this scene storms Charlene (Amy Adams), a no-nonsense, bar-tending college dropout who acts as the catalyst for Micky to take control of his life and career, both of which are being dragged down by his oblivious family.

This family drama is heightened by a raft of excellent performances. Christian Bale is superb as the drug-addled Dicky, infusing the character with a bug-eyed charisma that intoxicates the audience as much as it does his family and friends. But he's a ghost of his former self, a wispy shade obsessed with his one defining moment in boxing and deluded about an HBO documentary crew following him around. He thinks they're there to chart his comeback, despite the crew's insistence that they're making a film about the ravages of drug abuse. Dicky's inhabiting his own fantasy, and Bale works hard to heighten the impact when he's finally, brutally, evicted from that fantasy and shoved out into the cold light of day.

There are also great turns from the female influences in Micky's life. Melissa Leo brings out the steely pragmatism of Alice when it comes to shaping Micky's career, as well as her blind, unjustified dotage on Dicky, her first-born and the apple of her eye. We also see a new side of Amy Adams, such an expert at playing timid, as Micky's rock-hard girlfriend Charlene, who hates what Alice is doing to her youngest son's chances but might share more characteristics with the aging matriarch than she cares to admit.

Behind it all is Mark Wahlberg's quietly brilliant performance as Micky, a man undermined at every turn. He embodies the quiet resignation of a younger brother, aware and unresentful of the fact that Dicky casts an inescapable shadow. He's there in every scene, physically cringing at all the shouting and posturing around him. He's at once fiercely loyal to his kin and painfully aware that they are poisoning his chance to make a name of his own. Watching Micky's growing assertiveness despite his reluctance to take the spotlight is a genuine pleasure, and its a real shame that of all the film's Oscar nominations for acting, not one was for Wahlberg.

All of this struggle and tragedy outside of the ring makes the events that go on inside it all the more bracing. Micky's relationship with his family rings out with every punch, both given and received. His quiet determination gives weight to training sequences that would otherwise be simple genre staples. The script, along with director David O. Russell (Three Kings, I Heart Huckabees), makes us care more about this family of nutjobs than the outcome of any title bout. In fact, I can't think of a better recommendation for The Fighter than the fact that none of its most memorable moments involve punching, including one of the most heartwarming and beautiful final scenes that I've watched for some time.