Fighting

What it’s about:

A young street vendor (Channing Tatum) is recruited by a hustler (Terrence Howard) into New York’s underground bare-knuckle fighting world.

What we thought:

You’ve gotta love a movie that just comes right out and says what it’s about: fighting. In this case, though, it’s a genre that’s already crowded with some great (and less than great) films. From Raging Bull to Rocky to Blood Sport to Fight Club, pugilistic flicks have pretty much covered the available terrain. It would have to be a movie that aims for something quite startlingly different to stand out.

Fighting, however, doesn’t even try to come up with a new variation on the theme. Its plot has been rehashed in countless permutations before: a scrappy youngster, down on his luck, tries to make a name for himself in the big, bad city. All of the archetypes are in place: the wise mentor, the gorgeous love interest, the unbeatable arch-rival. Rather than come up with something new, Fighting goes for the element that is usually lacking in the genre: realism.

With the explosion in popularity of full-contact bloodsports – mixed martial arts, UFC, K-1, and other flavours – fighting aficionados these days know what a real fight looks like. It’s quick – often you won’t even see the blow that finishes the bout. It’s messy, sweaty and bloody. And it’s chaotic: most punches won’t connect properly, and soon both combatants have gone to the ground where grappling takes over. Fighting gets all of these details right. There’s not a slow-mo shot to be seen, none of Guy Ritchie’s overly-stylised violence, and the actors manage to convince us that the blows actually hurt like hell.

It spells out the film’s target audience pretty clearly: this movie is for people who like to watch fighting, no explanations needed. There’s none of Fight Club’s preaching about getting back in touch with one’s masculinity. There’s no talk of the nobility of one-on-one combat. It’s simply because we like to watch two men beat each other to a bloody pulp.

Beneath this veneer of simplicity, though, the movie manages to slip in a lot of heart. Channing Tatum is convincing as the country boy who’s aware that he’s swimming with sharks – he’s out of his depth, scared, and his cockiness fools no-one. Terrence Howard is magnetic, bringing a lot of what made his breakout performance in Hustle & Flow so mesmerising: a reluctant grifter, never quite at home with the sleaziness required to get by in his world. But it’s the relationship between the two men that really draws the viewer in. Somewhere on the shaky ground between their mutual mistrust and affection, they attempt to build the only friendship that either of them has. Think Midnight Cowboy rather than Karate Kid. Thankfully, director Dito Montiel gives this relationship the breathing room it needs to unfold on screen – he’s in no hurry to get to the next fight scene – and it elevates the movie from its wispy plot to something approaching a serious film.

It’s no great work of art, but I went in expecting nothing but flying fists, and came out with a satisfyingly human story. That’s more than enough reward from a film simply called Fighting.