There's a scene near the end of Resurrecting the Champ in which a sorrowful, despondent young man is imbibing in a dive bar. The door opens, and the young man's boss walks in and notes the predictability (and banality) of drowning one's sorrows in liquor, particularly after a little humiliation has occurred. The interaction was a little ironic, because up until just a scene or two earlier the movie seemed to be fairly predictable and straightforward. Luckily, the story zig-zagged thereafter.
To be honest, I wasn't really sure I wanted to watch Resurrecting the Champ, a drama about a young reporter who discovers that a former boxing great is living on the streets of Denver. It sounded a little too melodramatic for my tastes, following the formula of the idealistic lad saving the bitter ex-jock.
But that's not quite how it goes. Erik Kernan, Jr. (Josh Hartnett) is a reporter for a Denver newspaper. He covers boxing, but his stories are buried deep in the sports section by his boss, Ralph Metz (Alan Alda), who pegs Erik's writing as ordinary but sufficient. Meanwhile, Erik is dealing with his separation from his wife Joyce (Kathryn Morris), who has custody of their young son Teddy, and he feels as if he's stuck in stasis with his current job.
All of that changes when, while walking home late one night, he comes across a trio of drunken college-age kids beating up a homeless man. The homeless man, known as Champ (Samuel L. Jackson) mentions that he's Bob Satterfield, a pugilist long thought to have shuffled off this mortal coil. He regales Erik with tales within the squared circle, including fights against Rocky Marciano and Floyd Patterson. Naturally, Erik sees this as an opportunity to do some substantive writing for a change, and with Champ's permission he writes a story for a local magazine profiling Champ and his post-boxing life.
Everything goes along swimmingly, as you might expect, until it does not, which you also might expect. What you might not expect is how and when the tone shifts – and how the principal characters each deal with the change. The film seems to be asking us who the victim and the antagonist are in this play.
The good news is that Jackson is on fire. He rises above caricature in his portrayal of Champ – he doesn't go for cheap laughs or oversell Champ's homelessness or personality twitches. His Champ seems to have been come by honestly; in retrospect, the performance feels authentic and divinely from the heart. Jackson doesn't satirize a homeless wreck of a man, he inhabits him.
The more-disappointing news is that Hartnett is a little underwhelming. He's been excellent (Lucky Number Slevin) before, but here he just didn't rise to the challenge. Hartnett tries his best to convey the deep emotion that Erik feels, but he spends way too much time using "run fingers through own hair" as a way to show consternation or frustration. Or elation, for that matter.
#3,980 is a fine, understated film that doesn't really take off until the final reel, and even then the denouement falls a little flat.
To be honest, I wasn't really sure I wanted to watch Resurrecting the Champ, a drama about a young reporter who discovers that a former boxing great is living on the streets of Denver. It sounded a little too melodramatic for my tastes, following the formula of the idealistic lad saving the bitter ex-jock.
But that's not quite how it goes. Erik Kernan, Jr. (Josh Hartnett) is a reporter for a Denver newspaper. He covers boxing, but his stories are buried deep in the sports section by his boss, Ralph Metz (Alan Alda), who pegs Erik's writing as ordinary but sufficient. Meanwhile, Erik is dealing with his separation from his wife Joyce (Kathryn Morris), who has custody of their young son Teddy, and he feels as if he's stuck in stasis with his current job.
All of that changes when, while walking home late one night, he comes across a trio of drunken college-age kids beating up a homeless man. The homeless man, known as Champ (Samuel L. Jackson) mentions that he's Bob Satterfield, a pugilist long thought to have shuffled off this mortal coil. He regales Erik with tales within the squared circle, including fights against Rocky Marciano and Floyd Patterson. Naturally, Erik sees this as an opportunity to do some substantive writing for a change, and with Champ's permission he writes a story for a local magazine profiling Champ and his post-boxing life.
Everything goes along swimmingly, as you might expect, until it does not, which you also might expect. What you might not expect is how and when the tone shifts – and how the principal characters each deal with the change. The film seems to be asking us who the victim and the antagonist are in this play.
The good news is that Jackson is on fire. He rises above caricature in his portrayal of Champ – he doesn't go for cheap laughs or oversell Champ's homelessness or personality twitches. His Champ seems to have been come by honestly; in retrospect, the performance feels authentic and divinely from the heart. Jackson doesn't satirize a homeless wreck of a man, he inhabits him.
The more-disappointing news is that Hartnett is a little underwhelming. He's been excellent (Lucky Number Slevin) before, but here he just didn't rise to the challenge. Hartnett tries his best to convey the deep emotion that Erik feels, but he spends way too much time using "run fingers through own hair" as a way to show consternation or frustration. Or elation, for that matter.
#3,980 is a fine, understated film that doesn't really take off until the final reel, and even then the denouement falls a little flat.