Lame Fighting Down for the Count
I had this great idea to write my review of the new pugilistic melodrama Fighting in a series of half-sentences and random observations seemingly coming from out of absolute nowhere. Considering that’s the way the movie itself is, attacking it like that in a review only seemed fitting. After all, if it didn’t bother trying to make a lick of sense or tell a coherent story, why then should I be inclined to write an incisive and clearheaded review?
Channing Tatum gets physical in Rogue Pictures' Fighting
Common sense prevailed, however, and as much as doing this sounded like a lot of fun inside my noggin actually doing it on paper was a heck of a lot more work on my part than this instantly forgettable travesty of a picture deserved. The truth of the matter is that writers Dito Montiel (who also directs) and Robert Munic apparently can’t be bothered to try and do anything remotely interesting, relying instead upon a series of mumble-mouthed clichés and jaw-dropping coincidences to propel things forward.
The basics here are as simple as they get. Shawn MacArthur (Channing Tatum) is a former collegiate wrestler with a checkered past who, thanks to an apparently gregarious hustler named Harvey (Terrence Howard), finds himself suddenly involved in the bloody world of underground New York street fighting. As he progresses up the ladder to face incrementally more difficult opponents, the quiet young man romances struggling single mother and waitress Zulay (Zulay Henao), the twosome trying to build something pure amidst this backdrop of brutality and chaos.
As premises go, this is pretty difficult one to muck up. At the very least, even if the characters are threadbare and the emotional dynamics driving them are lame as long as you fill the screen with spectacular fight sequences you’re more or less going to end up okay. Viewers going into something like this aren’t going to be expecting a whole heck of a lot, and the chances of a movie going with a scenario like this one leaving them completely disappointed is virtually nil.
Ladies and gentlemen, here is that nil. Fighting is a complete and utter disaster on just about every level. Good actors like Luis Guzmán and Tatum pretty much come off looking like idiots, while great actors like Howard look like they’d rather be anywhere other than here. Montiel and Munic script as if they were shouting plot points to one another as if they were just spouting the first thing that came into their minds, everyone speaking in half-sentences and oddly disaffected monotones that quickly grew tiresome.
Even the bouts themselves (save for one exception set in some sort of Asian sanctuary which is admittedly bone-crunching) are a complete waste of time. If the goal was to make audiences feel each punch at the moment of contact I hate to say it but the only thing I felt was general malaise at just how uninspiring all of these were. No amount of flashy camerawork or zippy editing can mask the fact these fights are hugely underwhelming, Shawn rise to the top about as believable as a newborn infant winning “American Idol.”
There isn’t a lot more to say. As disasters go, Fighting isn’t exactly the most damning one I’ve ever seen. It’s too lame on so many levels for me to actually hate the thing, the movie doing everything badly but not quite badly enough to warrant anything more than a bemused brush-off. Sitting through it isn’t so much a chore as it is an opportunity for a nap which, I’m assuming, isn’t quite the type of knockout the people behind it were hoping for.
Film Rating: ê1/2 (out of 4)
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