Million Dollar Baby (2004)

Premise: Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood) is a trainer and gym owner. He's one of the best trainers in the biz, but he protects his fighters away from the title match. Scrap (Morgan Freeman), his long-suffering best friend and a former boxer himself, helps Frankie run the gym. Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank) shows up one day begging to be trained, and, while Frankie refuses (he doesn't train girls), Scrap sees something in her and sticks it out until Frankie comes around.

I really don't want to give too much away, but it's hard not to write one lengthy plot description for this one.

You know why? Because it's a plot driven movie. Even more than that, though, it's a character driven movie. Developing characters is the most important thing in Paul Haggis' screenplay. He never lets you down with any of them - never relying on clichés or plot contrivances to get you through. But what a plot it is. I'm very nervous about giving a single aspect of it away, and, as much as I'll try not to, I warn you now that something might slip.

Remember when I said that Eastwood should direct everything? I wasn't wrong. If anyone looks back to when the septuagenarian was on Rawhide or making spaghetti westerns, no one could say that they saw him coming. Yet here he is. Eastwood tells his stories simply, with beautifully framed shots and the best use of lighting I've seen in a really long time. He takes time to develop his characters, along with the brilliant screenplay, always pacing himself, always pacing his audience for the best natural reaction.

I think that's what he's really concerned with. In a movie about how unnatural boxing really is, Eastwood tells a story about the natural bonds that develop between different people without the faintest whiff of sexuality.

And his score. His elegant, bare bones score will be the death of me. There's this part in the beginning of the second act where an envelope goes in a box. There is no dialogue, and I was in absolute tears. Hot pricking tears, and, in my head I started saying, "I'm sorry, Clint Eastwood." I don't know why, except maybe because I knew he intended to break my heart, and I thought I could maybe apologize my way out of it.

If you don't already know the end of this movie, stay that way until you see it. I will tell you, though, that there's a single shot in the top of the third act with Scrap and Maggie, and I swear he gives it all away right then. Eastwood always struck me as one to breast his cards, but he allows you a tiny peek right at that moment. I tell you, I started to cry then, and I didn't stop until after the credits had rolled.

Of course, by then the hot stinging tears were gone and replaced by cooler ones than ran down my cheeks, and I refused to wipe away. At that point I felt resigned to my fate.

Somehow, magically, despite my crying, by the time I walked out of the movie theatre I had the biggest grin on my face, and nothing could take it away. I felt peaceful and driven and lifted. I don't know if God will speak to you through this film, but I think it's worth your money to find out. In fact, I think it's worth your money anyway.

Swank does her best impersonation of a great actress here. She's as plucky and quietly sad as the script requires but no more. I've yet to be sold on her as an actress (I could never bring myself to see Boys Don't Cry), but I know she's smart enough to make something worthwhile out of herself. Maggie was 31 when the movie started and much too old to be starting out as a fighter. I knew that Swank understood exactly how Maggie felt in that situation, and I believe she's the only actress who could bring that to the role.

Freeman serves as much as the movie's emotional core as he does as its narrator. It's astonishing to see how much he and Eastwood have aged since Unforgiven, but Freeman never stops giving. That's his true talent. And he's got a great voice for narration.

As an added bonus, my immense pleasure in seeing this film was doubled when Jay Baruchel appeared on screen. I love Baruchel! He should assuredly be in many more things, and I know he was dutifully pleased to be given this chance.

Another solid movie that is easily one of last year's best, and better, for going back to a kind of filmmaking long forgotten. A+

P.S. Rideau Famous Players had the gall to close the curtains before the credits stopped rolling and then turn them off before they were done. Annoyed.