The Fighter

Recently, I looked through a buddy’s photos from Afghanistan.  Mark Wahlberg had come to his base to premiere The Fighter, and one of the photos showed the movie star carrying all his own gear out of the back of the C-130 on which he’d flown in.  Wahlberg, apparently, was a great guy: eating with the junior Marines, making time for a word and a photo with all who asked, and generally making his momma proud.

I’m sure Wahlberg went all the way to Afghanistan because it was the right thing to do.  It also worked as a promotional strategy, because I rented The Fighter the day I saw those photos.

It’s a hell of a good movie, but it’s hard to watch.  Wahlberg plays Mickey, a small time boxer in a family devoted to small time boxing.  His older brother Dicky (Christian Bale, phenomenal here) may have knocked down Sugar Ray Leonard once upon a time, but now he’s a pathetic crackhead.  His mother (Melissa Leo, unrecognizable after Frozen River) seems intent on managing him into oblivion.  The rest of the circus that comprises his family doesn’t seem much better.  Then Wahlberg meets Amy Adams (Enchanted, Charlie Wilson’s War), a local bartender and very tough broad who shows him another way.

I know what you’re thinking: “Why would I see this movie?  If I want to spend time with a dysfunctional family, I’ll go home for Christmas.”  See it for the performances.  See it for Mickey, a fighter who must learn to stop worrying about making everybody happy.  See it for Dickey, an ex-fighter who may never learn that it’s impossible to be a cool guy who also smokes a little crack on the side.  See it for their mother, who believes she’s the proud matriarch of a noble clan when, in fact, she’s a 70-year-long train wreck that’s about 2/3 of the way through.

The Fighter works, and it works because of these great performers.  Seeing this movie is like seeing a master class in the art of acting, and I enjoyed it for that alone.  All that, and Mark Wahlberg’s a good guy.  What more do you need?

Frozen River

"For me, the human face is the most important subject of the cinema.” -- Ingmar Bergman

Observe the face of Ray. No. First, observe the toe of Ray. It sports an old tattoo, a remnant of wilder times. Now, observe the face. It’s lined; worried. The eyes, bordered in basic mascara, don’t blink away the cigarette smoke wafting from the downturned mouth. They do blink away tears formed in flicker of despair. The face, so near to crumbling, pulls itself together and Ray Eddy straightens, goes back into her single wide, and does her best.

Courtney Hunt, the writer and director of FROZEN RIVER, understands that Bergman was right. Hunt knows how to build a story, inspire pathos, pace a scene, and create near-unbearable tension, and she does it by focusing on faces. Whether we’re watching Ray, brought to life in an Oscar nominated performance by Melissa Leo; Lila, played with quiet assurance by Misty Upham; or the people who need them; we care about them because their faces compel us to do so.

Because of this, FROZEN RIVER takes a place among the most compelling films I’ve seen this year. This film hooked me in its first five minutes through the extraordinary power of the human face, and it hasn’t let go of me yet. Its dilemmas, its characters, its milieu feel absolutely real as I dwell on them, and I find that its power grows with greater consideration.

This is Courtney Hunt’s first film, and it’s a masterpiece. IMDb tells me that her next feature will be called Northline and, though I have no idea what it’s about, I plan to see it. This is a woman who knows what she’s about, and who understands that it’s all in the face.