ihavebeenfloated

I finally drug myself to the theater to see Million Dollar Baby. The thought’s been floating around in the back of my head for a while, but I didn’t figure I’d go and see it. It’s a boxing movie, for one thing, and I couldn’t care less about boxing. Second, although I loved Mystic River, I will never forgive Clint Eastwood for what he did to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Third, I was biased against Hilary Swank for a reason I’ll never know, and even if I did know, I’ll never understand it at this point. The fact that I went to this movie is a clear sign that I’m boxing with myself every step of the way, lately.

I can’t really say much about the film. The story is simple, Clint Eastwood plays Frankie Dunn, an old fashioned boxing trainer with skeletons lurking in his closet, who takes on Hilary Swank’s white trash Maggie Fitzgerald as a trainee after a brief period of reluctance after urging from his gym hand, Eddie, played by Morgan Freeman. I don’t really want to say much more than that, as the joy of watching the film is watching it. There’s no need to explain it.

I walked out of the theater feeling as if I just had the crap kicked out of me. I’ll admit that it doesn’t take an awful lot for a movie to do this to me, it happens all the time. What usually doesn’t happen during the same movie, however, did. It takes a lot for a movie to make me want to stand up in my chair and applaud, I really have to be in it in order to feel absolutely overwhelmed by a small emotional climax to the point where I feel like I can barely contain my joy. This film did that, and it did it with boxing, out of all things, a sport that I think is rather ridiculous in nature. The fact that this film not only kicked the shit out of me, but also made me feel unbearably happy about boxing is a testament to the power lurking within this film.

I would still rather Sideways get the Best Picture Oscar, but if Million Dollar Baby gets it, I wont be disappointed.