| The
Review: |
Michael Mann's
"Ali" is a failure on many levels, rising to success only
in mere glimpses, and favoring style and outward appearance
over substance and inner depth. It is a victim of the most
haphazard editing I've seen this year, and lingers over issues
and moments that have little bearing on our emotions or our
understanding of the central character. The story is told
without any apparent recognition of time passage, and for
all its acting energy and devotion to the source, it does
nothing more than cast one of sport's most well-known legends
into a less-than-favorable light.
It is a biopic
in the strictest sense of the word, leaving emotion at the
door for a continuous sequence of events that moves without
pause, something a character-driven piece should not be without.
We are introduced to Cassius Clay (Will Smith), as he prepares
for his first major fight against Sonny Liston, whom he defeats
to become the defending heavy weight champion of the world.
Being the
film's first major fight scene, Mann delivers a feverpitch
of tight choreography and photography that captures the essence
of the sport of boxing without making it the centerpiece of
the film. As the movie plods along, however, these sequences
become more and more intrusive, stretched out seemingly as
a method of keeping one's interest.
By this time,
Smith has already done a commendable job of portraying both
the charisma and the arrogance of his character, who later
changes his name to Muhammad Ali as a statement of his freedom
from white oppression. He adopts the religion of Islam, takes
a wife (played by Smith's real-life spouse, Jada Pinkett Smith),
and continues to spread the word to the world that he is the
"world's greatest."
This development
of character is commendable enough, but for every point scored
by the film, there is another waiting to zero it out. The
inclusion of Ali's friendship with Malcom X is merely a plot
device used to instill in the audience a knowledge of his
devotion to civil rights and humanitarian efforts; later,
X's death is more like the movie dropping a tired subject
than an affecting turning point in Ali's emotional struggle.
Martin Luther King, Jr's death is also showcased in the film,
but even that is never seen as being of any effect on the
boxer. And what is to be made of the relationship between
he and newscaster Howard Cosell (played by a very unrecognizable
Jon Voight)?
Things become
even more complicated for the film once the issue of Ali's
refusal to be drafted into military service arises. The movie,
for all its attempts to keep up the pretense of Ali's humanitarian
bravura, is unable to make us care for his stand against an
unjust system. His cocky demeanor and outwardly lambastic
remarks give one the feeling that he cares not for the rights
of his race, but for his own image. Whether or not this is
the Muhammad Ali the filmmakers intended to bestow upon the
audiences, we may never know; what I do know is that I felt
almost nothing for this brash, unyielding man whose arrogance
outshines his physical strength.
There are
other things to consider as well, such as the attention to
insignificant scenes, and the overpopulation of characters,
many of whom we barely have time to know or remember. Take,
for example, a scene in which Ali pays a visit to Drew "Bundini"
Brown, who has become a drunkard and a junkie. Their confrontation
holds little meaning because I could hardly recall the character;
the same feeling is felt with the introductions and dismissals
of Ali's three wives, who leave almost as quickly as they
arrive.
In summation,
"Ali" doesn't deliver any real emotional resonance where it
should, instead settling for a play-by-play of ten years of
Muhammad Ali's life that seems clouded in incoherence and
banality. I walked in with the hopes that I would gain some
knowledge of who this man was and what he stood for; sadly,
what was presented in now nothing more than a mere afterthought,
a gut punch without force or energy. --
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