Screening In NYC: THE FIGHTER (2010).

The Fighter is a pretty damn excellent example of what a mainstream movie can (and should) be. It’s a screen story that delivers all the crowd-pleasing notes while still taking pains to make plenty of room for great performances, genuine emotion, thoughtfulness, detailed production design, brilliant use of locations, and often-subtle stylistic innovation.  The script comes from the work of a small army of writers, and was directed by the odd and iconoclastic David O. Russell.

But this is the David O. Russell of Three Kings (his greatest film before now), the guy who sees making a star-driven mainstream movie as an opportunity to take dramatic risks and to get frisky with the camera.  The Fighter integrates documentary-style shooting, with the now-traditional handheld approach, into boxing scenes rooted in the pixellated look of HBO “live-on-pay-per-view” events from the ’80s and ’90s.  It’s surprisingly effective and it doesn’t stop there: 

One of the first shots in the movie is a behind-the-back shot of Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg), as the camera trails him from the perspective of his brother Dicky (Christian Bale). Dicky swings ghost-punches in the air — his perspective is ours (or at least, Russell’s).  Not only is this is a strange way to open a Rocky-esque underdog-boxing story, but it is an interesting attempt to align an audience with a difficult, hyperactive, drug-crazed, inconsistent character.  The story’s allegiance is with Micky Ward, but the filmmaking approach owes plenty to Dicky.  The rest of the film maintains that same energy — at one point, Russell’s camera roves up and along a telephone cord in order to trace the events of a pivotal phone call.

The whole movie has a fighter’s energy, which is why it’s rewarding.  The filmmaking matches the performances:  Mark Wahlberg, playing to his best strengths; Christian Bale, showing he has plenty of notes to play besides Batman-dark and Bateman-broody; Melissa Leo, real-world sinister; Rescue Me‘s Jack McGee, always a grounding, authentic presence; Amy Adams, playing the real kind of angel and playing it sexier than anywhere before.  And then there are that coven of haggy sisters:  Awesome.  Unlikely to ever get a “Girls Of The Fighter” spread in Maxim magazine, but providing the best kind of verisimilitude.  Even if we don’t know people like this ourselves, we definitely believe that people like this, unlike the lippy and chinny movie stars we’re so used to seeing, absolutely exist in plenty of places.  (Fun trivia:  One of them is Conan O’Brien’s sister!)

Despite being one of the best Boston movies of all time, The Fighter plays tonight in New York City, for free!, at Hudson River Park, as part of the summertime RiverFlicks for Grown-Ups film series.  If you haven’t had the pleasure, go have the pleasure.