CINDERELLA MAN

When Leo Durocher said, "Nice guys finish last," ex-Heavyweight Champion James J. Braddock was still alive and working on the Verrazzano Bridge. Taken up by baby boomers, Durocher's mantra did not apply to Braddock, who was nice to his wife, his three kids, his manager, and even the fight promoters who stopped his career for several years during the Depression. When his fighting days seemed over, Braddock competed for jobs as a longshoreman on the Jersey wharves to earn enough to feed his family. Sometimes he could not get work and had to go on relief. But he knew he could be a contender, and by accident, he went back to the ring. Commenting on Braddock's resurfacing from obscurity, Damon Runyon called him "The Cinderella Man"; the name stuck. When a reporter asked him why he was challenging Heavyweight Champion Max Baer, whose dynamite punches had previously killed two boxers, Braddock answered, "I know what I'm fighting for now. Milk." Against ten to one odds, Braddock defeated Baer in 1935. He then returned his relief handout. As Cinderella Man's advertising campaign says, "When America was on its knees, he brought us to our feet." They got it right.
    

In case it's necessary to be reminded, the Depression was a decade of unemployment, poverty, hunger, and misery. Braddock, his wife Mae, and their three kids suffered them all. Ron Howard has directed the saga of Braddock's--and, intrinsically, America's--victory with subtlety and passion. He recreates the drabness of the 30's with sets, costumes, and muted colors. The Braddocks' slum apartment and even the boxing rings are confined and confining spaces, but they never restrain the action or the characters. As Howard says, "I learned how to make a movie in a tight space with Apollo 13."
   

Russell Crowe not only plays, he seems to become James J. Braddock, not easy for a character whose only strong feelings are for his family and for boxing. Crowe had become fascinated ten years earlier with Braddock's story, and when he and Howard were making A Beautiful Mind, he brought up the subject. Howard was at first doubtful, although his father remembered being trucked by his own father seven miles from their Oklahoma farm to hear a radio broadcast of the Braddock-Baer fight. With a screenplay by Cliff Hollingsworth and Akiva Goldsman, and Crowe's and Renee Zellweger's participation, production could start. But in pre-production, when Crowe was learning 30's boxing techniques, he dislocated his shoulder and required surgery. He refused to give up, and production proceeded. If this mishap enhanced Crowe's performance, more actors should try it. Crowe not only recreated Braddock's personality, he insisted on using a device to make his ears stick out, as Braddock's did. Zellweger, who provided the best reason to see Cold Mountain, plays his wife Mae with understatement that makes the role touching. She is becoming a superb actor. Syllable for syllable, she gets Irish second-generation speech, and after her Southern drawl in Cold Mountain she demonstrates a proficiency with accents comparable to Meryl Streep's.
    

Equally impressive is Paul Giamatti as Joe Gould, Braddock's manager and friend. Their relationship is mutually dependent, difficult, and rewarding, just as is Braddock's relationship with Mae. Giamatti's lively performance contrasts with Crowe's quiet, understated playing. Together they form a unity that is greater than the sum of its parts. It will be a challenge to find a more eligible candidate for best supporting actor for 2005.
    

Craig Bierko plays Max Baer with elan. A tall, attractive man, as was Baer, Bierko played in a revival of The Music Man and received excellent notices. His Baer should provide a launch for an impressive screen career.