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ALI
5/10
US
2001 : Michael Mann : 158 mins
Intermittently
impressive but, in the end, disappointingly superfluous biopic of the
20th century’s most charismatic sportsman, Muhammad Ali (Will
Smith). The film spans the ten crucial years leading up to the legendary
‘Rumble in the Jungle’ fight against George Foreman in Kinshasa, Zaire,
where Ali reclaimed the world heavyweight boxing title he’d forfeited
when refusing to serve in Vietnam. When he’s on form, Mann can be a delight
to watch, and there are flashes of his trademark bravura control of sound
and image here, in particular the opening sequence set to a Sam Cooke
medley. Cutting between shots of the young Ali training in a gym and jogging
through a nocturnal inner-city with impressionistic flashes of his childhood,
Mann ‘out-Scorseses Scorsese’ in terms of stylish swagger, setting up
the expectation that we’re about to witness some kind of groundbreaking
cinematic masterpiece.
But
when he actually has to get down to business and tell Ali’s remarkable
story, Mann founders – it’s seldom a positive sign when four screenwriters
are credited, and the script is what lets this over-ambitious project
badly down. Attempting to cover every angle of Ali’s crowded life, the
film ends up having to give too many elements (his romances, his religion,
his politics) the most cursory treatment, and it’s often difficult to
work out who’s who and what’s what – the film never builds up anything
like a coherent, persuasive narrative flow and, like so many biopics,
ends up jaggedly episodic.
Many
supporting characters, such as Jeffrey Wright’s omnipresent photographer
Howard Bingham, have frustratingly little to do, which means the central
role of Ali is even more crucial than would otherwise be the case. Smith,
though he works very hard to get the champ’s distinctive vocal inflections
spot on, can’t do much to make this unexpectedly humourless character
especially believable or interesting. Jon Voight, however, is a constant
delight as Ali’s sportscaster pal Howard Cosell. Kitted out with elaborate
wig and facial prosthetics, he seems to be having a ball, and his appearances
provide regular uplifts to an otherwise downbeat film – similar welcome
energy is provided by Mykelti Williamson’s suitably outrageous version
of promoter Don King.
Apparently
aware of his own control-freak tendencies, Mann here resorts to some desperate
tactics in an effort to loosen himself up – even occasionally abandoning
his usual pristine look in favour of shaky, grainy, hand-held digital
video: an interesting experiment, but one that ends up feeling forced
and arbitrary. In the crucial fight sequences, meanwhile, he’s clearly
trying to distance himself from the Raging Bull school of artiness,
but the editing is too choppy and the addition of up-tempo music is uncomfortably
reminiscent of Rocky. While Ron Shelton’s Play
It To The Bone may not be an especially great film, it remains
easily the most authentic ring recreation in recent years, with the directors’s
enthusiasm for and knowledge of the sport evident in every shot of the
climactic, epic bout. Mann, on the other hand, doesn’t seem especially
interested in boxing at all.
After
such a strong start, it’s sad to see Ali running out of gas so
long before the finish line – it doesn’t help that the lengthy Kinshasa
conclusion is such a pale rehash of the far superior documentary that
chronicled the same event, When We Were Kings. Surely most viewers
interested in Ali would already have seen that Oscar-winning picture…
so why bother?
9th
March, 2002
(seen 26th February, UGC Boldon)
by Neil Young
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