On Southpaw

For some reason, critics feel the need, at the release of any boxing film, to immediately rate it as ‘the best boxing film since … (insert either Raging Bull (1980) or Rocky (1976)). No other sub genre is submitted to instant ranking in such the same way and it does whatever new boxing film being rated is, a disservice. No film is an instant classic as such a saying in an oxymoron. A classic should survive at least one generation. The two films mentioned above have achieved this label and it is simply unfair to use them as a default barometer for additions to the canon.

Southpaw, directed by Antoine Fuqua, is another addition to the boxing sub genre and tells the redemptive story of the subtly named Billy Hope. Direction and script are solid, yet Southpaw illustrates the emotional pull of the sport. The collaboration in preparation leading to the isolation in combat very quickly develops excitement, fear and a raw connection with the fighter.

In its narrative Southpaw pulls no unexpected surprises and keeps us closely tied to Hope, making this his film and only his. The coup for Southpaw is in casting, for without the talent this film boasts, it would have been easier to forget. Gyllenhaal (now well established as a daring actor), Forest Whitaker and Rachel McAdams are all remarkable here; they hold this film together, making it hard to look away and impossible to root for any ending, but the one we are given.

Forget attempting to rank boxing films against each other; they are not boxers. Southpaw is enjoyable now.