But by most other measures, it’s a swing and a miss. Too make matters worse, Bags' friend, who is the owner of his gym, has bet everything. A gangster decides to take advantage of the gullible Bags and sets up a championship match between Bags and a powerhouse called The Butcher. Boxing enthusiasts might well take satisfaction from seeing Belcher’s story told with obvious energy and diligence, and Crowe and Winstone are good value. During the 1930s, Bags is struggling to become a successful boxer. Visually, meanwhile, it often falls victim to the curse of the drastic colour-grade: shots regularly look as if they have been passed through at least five Instagram filters, with brighter tones smouldering unnaturally and white objects emitting an unsettling, Chernobyl-like glow. Supporting characters are regularly deployed as glorified narrators, and shout things like “This’ll make the front page across the whole country!” to no one in particular. Prizefighter’s screenplay is equally low on surprises, with a plot that opens with then gradually loops back to a pivotal moment in a pivotal bout, via the expected training montages and familial strife – most of the latter of which is supplied by Jem’s eternally pained mother Mary (Jodhi May). His performance as Jem certainly doesn’t want for earnestness, but it lacks the specificity and presence which make biopics feel like something more than Wikipedian recaps. But their obvious ease makes Hookings’s relative inexperience all the more conspicuous. This grizzled pair are naturals at this stuff – Crowe, especially, radiates a sort of Zen-like contentment when thumping large men and growling things like “Ee’s a tough ’un” in a fair approximation of a Norfolk accent. Crowe plays Jem’s brawling, boozing grandfather Jack Slack, whose handiness in a punch-up inspires our hero as a lad, while Winstone is Belcher’s trainer Bill Warr, doling out profanity-laden pep talks from ringside. The issue is all the more glaring since Hookings’s own face appears alongside two of cinema’s roughest and readiest: those belonging to Ray Winstone and Russell Crowe. It is the face of a man who brings a frisbee to the beach. It is a face which says Range Rover Evoque. The physique checks out (notably, Hookings’s father was the late British heavyweight champion David Pearce) but alas, the face does not. EXCLUSIVE: Amazon Prime has quietly picked up domestic rights to UK boxing movie Prizefighter: The Life Of Jem Belcher. But from his designer stubble to his tastefully feathered haircut, Hookings simply isn’t plausible as the hard-bitten 19th-century brawler whose life he has brought to the screen. Written and co-produced by its star, the 33-year-old Welsh actor Matt Hookings, Prizefighter is obviously a valiant labour of love. This is one of a number of problems with this week’s highest profile release, the literary adaptation Where the Crawdads Sing – and it also derails this lower-budget British biopic of the boxer Jem Belcher, who in 1800 became the sport’s youngest ever English champion at 19 years old. The Prize Fighter Gary Busey (Actor), Rob Boyd (Actor), Mark Mason (Director) Rated: Unrated Format: DVD 12 ratings IMDb 3.4/10.0 1499 Get Fast, Free Shipping with Amazon Prime FREE Returns DVD 14.99 Additional DVD options Edition Discs Price New from Used from DVD 1 9. Boxer Ed Jones gets a second chance at fulfilling his lifelong dream of becoming a champion with the help of a veteran promoter and the guidance of a former champ. And when a leading actor doesn’t credibly pass as the person we’re being asked to take them for, it can cause an entire feature to crumble to bits. Thank you very much.Faces matter in film: always have, always will. The film is a triumph in every department. Marcia Gay Harden, Laura Linney and now Hillary Swank with a performance that not even "Boys don't Cry" could predict. Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon, Tim Robbins, Jude Law, Morgan Freeman, Gene Hackman yes mostly men but there was also, other than Meryl Streep, Genevieve Boujold. Even someone like Meryl Streep, felt freer and capable to stretch herself all the way to Italy under his wing. He quite simply gives them room to maneuver. Actors love him because he, clearly, doesn't lie to them, doesn't kiss their asses. I remember focusing on Clint Eastwood through a very different lens after sitting through "Pale Rider" a mythological, lyrical western. An artist of enormous proportions so well camouflaged behind a shy smile and a charming, clumsy attitude. Overwhelmed by the simple truth of its conclusion. I don't know why, but I went into the theater thinking I was about to see a female Rocky Balboa kind of deal.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |