The Devil You Know… Gavin O’Connor’s Warrior
Gavin O’Connor’s feuding brothers feudal drama fuses post-millennial financial depression with meditation on post-Iraq. While the tale is essentially ground in the archetypical sports movie (no prizes for guessing how the rough structure of the film turns out), the dual personalities that head the film give Warrior a USP that is genuinely satisfying.
The essential structure of the film is thus; a pair of estranged brothers train for a fighting competition. One enters because he needs the money to keep a roof over the head of his family (honourable, the Rocky of this story, if you will), and the other fights for reasons initially unknown (presumably, not honourable, although this is later revealed not to be the case). As the two gradually work their way up the fighting ladder it becomes apparent that they will eventually meet each other in the ring, and while this is all very predictable (believe me, I wouldn’t go in to such detail were it not), it’s in the technique employed to tell this typical tale that O’Connor’s film really shines.
The director’s moment ingénue is in the manner in which he presents the two brothers tales equally, so much so that even by the films closing moments we still don’t know whom to root for. In a subgenre so exercised this is little short of miraculous. Both figures are sympathetic, both have their reasons, and the thought of simply cheering only one on never even enters in to the equation. A series of comparisons are presented; while the unpredictable Tommy scraps away in a gym, the dependable Brendan works away in a school. While some of these comparison moments are a little heavy handed, and a hardened coerciveness is certainly this films greatest problem, it all works when held together within the context of the film.
The sport presented on-screen is that of MMA (mixed martial arts), a notoriously gritty and hardcore recreational activity. O’Connor’s handheld camerawork does a nice job of representing the harsh sport, as does an effective sound design. In fact, it’s the sound design that carries the weight here, with a lot of the effect of the fighting hidden behind visual markers, but more on that later. While the camerawork here might not be as effective at capturing the visceral nature of the fight as a film like Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler does, which was genuinely unflinching, its still works really well. As David O. Russell did with The Fighter, O’Connor adopts the relevant media for each of the fights. Television cameras show up for the later bouts, and the early, grassroots level events are captured on mobile phones, in turn replicating the mood of the situation presented on-screen. The use of Atlantic City as the location of choice for the fighting tournament is an interesting one, with that particularly city’s on-screen past covered on Hope Lies in detail before, and as the site of the action in Warrior it remains a fascinatingly cinematic locale. The failed glitz of the east coast Vegas is perhaps the ideal setting for such an abrasive subject matter.
As with any good sports film, Warrior has its own training montage, and while it’s nicely executed enough, that’s not really why I’m mentioning it. The scene is scored to a very unusual remix of Beethoven’s fifth. The classical musical reference is further shoved down the throat of the viewer, seemingly for no real reason, and a recurring reference to Herman Melville’s ‘Moby Dick’ feels somewhat awkward and crowbarred in too, as if the makers are attempting to somehow intellectualise the film further. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good film, but these attempts to class it up come off as little more than condescending. Elsewhere musically the film is excellently bookended by tracks from Brooklyn band The National (with the films opening song, ‘Start A War’, taken from their aptly titled 2007 long-player, ‘Boxer’), with the selections proof of just how strong well-chosen existing music can complement a movie.
The film’s success stems largely from its cast. Tom Hardy, as the menacing Tommy cements his young growing reputation as his generation’s Albert Finney, a formidable acting presence who is not afraid to take more challenging roles. Hardy’s Tommy is a figure of pure anger, and one ground not so much in words as it is in movement. Joel Edgerton turns in his second great performance of 2011, following David Michod’s Animal Kingdom, with the antipodean balancing out the aggression of Hardy with a more heartfelt, emotional turn. As the father of the brothers, Nick Nolte is on barnstorming form, with a performance that marries the intensity of Tommy and the affection of Brendan. Unfortunately, many of the supporting performances come from figures involved with MMA and are almost universally terrible.
Which leads me on to one final point, which concerns the manner in which the MMA fighting is presented in the film. In order to secure the film a PG-13 rating the fighting is presented in a manner which is almost irresponsible. The fights are presented with so much blocking, and in such a way as to avoid any display of bloodshed that rather than working effectively (ala The Wrestler), they instead come across as though it is glorifying the sport. No blood, no consequence etc. This pre-teen approach to the fighting sequences really leaves a bad taste in the mouth, and rather than being the clever dodge that the filmmakers presumably think this is, it comes off as sleazy and opportunistic. I don’t buy any argument that it’s a creative decision, and one ground in concepts of escalation, as the content doesn’t match that. Put simply, rather than being an artistic decision I’m more inclined to believe that it was a financially motivated one.
It’s a shame to end on such a negative note, as Warrior is a hugely enjoyable film, and an absolute breeze of a movie (the two and half hour running time is barely noticeable), but its just disappointing that the commercial concerns outweigh any sense of responsibility.
