MILLION DOLLAR BABY (****)
A lonely old trainer. A hopeful young waif. With these two simple elements, Clint Eastwood masterfully crafts one of the most heartbreaking of love stories. Not one of romance, but of kinship. MILLION DOLLAR BABY is a triumph of emotional involvement and storytelling, evoking love and sympathy without ever telling us how or why. This is the best film of the year.
Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood) is the loner in question, a boxing trainer of the "Hit-Pit" gym. He writes regularly to his estranged daughter, who might be what's left of his family, but never gets written back. He attends his local Church to trade cerebral barbs with the local priest. When he isn't training, he likes reading Yates and learning Gaelic.
Frankie doesn't come across as a lonely guy at first, but the way he holds on to those dear to him much too long, even at the cost of what may benefit them, is telling. When one of his prized fighters Big Willie (Mike Colter) longs to take a title shot, Frankie holds him back to fight a few more. He cares for his fighters, but too much concern is bad for any business.
Into his life comes Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank), a young woman of meager finances and high hopes. She has been a waitress virtually all her life, stealing scraps just to eat, and saving money to pursue her pugilistic dreams. She wants to become a champion, and she needs Frankie to train her. Why? Because it's the only thing she's good at, and the only thing that uplifts her spirit. Why Frankie? Because he cares about his fighters.
Eddie "Scrap-Iron" Dupris (Morgan Freeman) is the man who narrates their story. He was once Frankie's prized pugilist, and is now the caretaker of the Pit, as well as Frankie's best (and perhaps only) friend. He's also the person responsible for getting Frankie to take on Maggie's wishes, quietly urging both of them to meet, and lending them wise counsel when they most need it.
As you can see, this story is not epic in scope, its characters not legendary in stature, and its theme not earth-shattering. It is not a grand blockbuster, it doesn't have huge swathes of emotion, and its story is not all that original. But it contains huge emotional power, and classical storytelling that is direct and effortless. Just like its boxers, this film doesn't have an ounce of fat. Every scene is terse, every moment true, and every character deep.
It is amazing what rich detail Mr. Eastwood provides us, and how intelligently he treats us. No feelings are telegraphed. No happenings are explained. The details are in each character's nuances and unknowing revelations. We discover Frankie's loneliness in the way he treats those dear to him, in an item he receives, in what he reads. We know of Maggie's fervency and determination by her discipline and attention. We understand her final dilemma and choice because we see where she has come from and what she has gone through. When we realize what both Frankie and Maggie mean to each other, we uncover matters that are universal and liberating.
Like Martin Scorcese, Clint Eastwood's best films also deal with tragedy, but in different worlds. Mr. Scorcese's universe always seems treacherous and dangerous, while Mr. Eastwood's is indifferent and unforgiving. Scorcese's characters almost always seem doomed, but Eastwood caresses his, showing their warmth and vulnerability in the midst of their trials. Scorcese focuses on the downfall, while Eastwood focuses on the delicate (This is not a judgment or a signal of my preference, just an observation).
The most memorable example of this is Frankie and Maggie's conversation on a nighttime drive, where the fading in and out of streetlights shine in subtle rhythms on their faces while they speak. It's a sweet and poignant metaphor for the hope and meaning both have brought into each other's lives, sweeping each other away from the sadness that abounds them.
Morgan Freeman's narration is the film's pacesetter. His wisdom and conciseness conjures a grounded worldliness. His voice is not only scruffy in what it knows, but welcoming in its delivery. He not only tells us what happens, he also describes the complexities of the sweet science (boxing) for our understanding. It might not be obvious, but the subtleties of his performance lend a gravitas that cannot be underestimated.
Hilary Swank is unforgettable as Frankie's baby. Though her performance is remarkable, it is her harmonious quality that keeps us wholly absorbed. Is there any major actress working in Hollywood today that is able to make us entirely sympathetic with such melancholic characters? Maggie, her creation, becomes so deserving of love that seeing her fate makes one feel despondent. Additionally, the physicality of her training is as impressive as Demi Moore's in G.I. JANE.
Clint Eastwood, as an actor and director, has never been better. Like Ms. Swank, he elicits our sympathy, by playing a lonely man, guarded but wanting of affection. His natural charm draws us to him, but he surprises us with the depths of his sadness during his lowest moments. Seeing Frankie becoming protective of Maggie can make any inner child long for their father, and any parent hold on to their children. It should also be noted, that aside from his great direction, he has also composed one of the most touching piano-driven scores since his last outing in THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY. It is a simple piece that becomes more and more poignant after seeing the film.
One reason why many people have trouble accepting Mr. Eastwood as a great filmmaker is because they cannot get over his reputation as a Hollywood superstar. With MILLION DOLLAR BABY, let all doubts be erased. He has helmed a movie that frees us, not because it arrives at a solution, but because it reconciles us to the notion that there is no solution - that it is the human lot to try and fail. Though its ending is heartbreaking, Maggie in her own way, is triumphant.
Note: The real inspiration behind this film could be this woman: http://www.nytimes.com/packages/khtml/2005/03/09/national/20050308_BOXER_AUDIOSS.html