This page was created on May 16, 2005
This page was last updated on June 10, 2005

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

Review by Kevin Miller
Review by Greg Wright
Review by Darrel Manson

Dial up modems will take a few moments

Directed by Ron Howard
Story by Cliff Hollingsworth
Screenplay by Cliff Hollingsworth and Akiva Goldsman

Cast (in credits order)
Russell Crowe .... Jim Braddock
Renée Zellweger .... Mae Braddock
Connor Price .... Jay Braddock
rest of cast listed alphabetically:
Aaron Abrams .... Autograph Fan
Nick Alachiotis .... Max Baer's Cornerman
Nola Augustson
Boyd Banks .... Reporter
Craig Bierko .... Max Baer
Darrin Brown .... Boxing Promoter
Tim Burd .... Man in Soup Line
Ron Canada
Fulvio Cecere .... Referee Johnny McAvoy
Paddy Considine .... Mike Wilson
Rosemarie DeWitt .... Sara Wilson
Tim Eddis .... Fight Promoter
Paul Giamatti .... Joe Gould
Rance Howard .... Ring Announcer
Alicia Johnston .... Alice Fox
Daniel Kash
Judah Katz .... Post production
Julian Lewis .... Undercard Boxer
Patrick Louis .... Howard Braddock

Produced by
Brian Grazer .... producer
Todd Hallowell .... executive producer
Ron Howard .... producer
Penny Marshall .... producer

Original Music by Thomas Newman
Cinematography by Salvatore Totino
Film Editing by Daniel P. Hanley and Mike H ll

MPAA: Rated PG-13 for intense boxing violence and some language.
Runtime: 144 min
For rating reasons, go to FILMRATINGS.COM, and MPAA.ORG.
Parents, please refer to PARENTALGUIDE.ORG

Cinderella Man

Track Listings
1. Inside Out
2. Shim-Me-Sha-Wobble
3. Mae
4. Change of Fortune
5. Weehawken Ferry
6. Cold Meat Party
7. All Prayed Out
8. Tillie's Downtown Now
9. Three Bucks Twenty
10. Corn Griffin
11. Shoe Polish
12. Londerry Air - Paul Giamatti
13. Hope of the Irish
14. Hooverville Funeral
15. Fight Day
16. Good as Murder
17. We've Got to Put That Sun Back in the Sky
18. No Contest
19. Pugilism
20. Bulldog of Bergen
21. Big Right
22. 9, 4, 2, Even
23. Cinderella Man
24. Turtle
25. Cheer Up! Smile! Nertz! - Eddie Cantor

Thanks to a last minute cancellation, Braddock finds himself back in the ring against the second-ranked world contender--and to everyone's amazement, Braddock wins in the third round. Despite being pounds lighter than his opponents and repeated injuries to his hands, Braddock continues to fight against challengers and win. Carrying on his shoulders the hopes and dreams of the disenfranchised masses, Braddock, dubbed the "Cinderella Man," faces his toughest challenger in Max Baer (Craig Bierko), the heavyweight champion of the world, renowned for having killed two men in the ring.

Braddock--not so much a great boxer as a great man who boxed--climbed into the ring seeking nothing more than to provide for his wife and children. His commitment to them inspired him to championship, elevating the family man with a simple cause to the level of legend.

Review by
KEVIN MILLER

Comment on Kevin's blog

We’ve all seen this story countless times. Braveheart, Rocky, Gladiator, Jerry McGuire, Unforgiven, First Blood, Hoosiers, A League of Their Own, and Miracle are just a few titles that spring to mind, but there are dozens more. And if you look back even further, you can trace the origins of this “monomyth” through the history of film and literature, all the way back to the first stories ever told around a campfire or on a cave wall. Greek, Roman, Norse, Indian, Jewish—virtually all bodies of mythological literature contain this archetype. Considering this pedigree, I can’t help but wonder why we feel compelled to tell and re-tell this story over and over again. Sure, Cinderella Man is a masterful rendition of this myth. But do we really need to see it again?

Perhaps the best way to answer this question is through my own viewing experience. Cinderella Man is one of those rare films during which I found it extremely difficult to keep my critical faculties engaged. I was so emotionally involved in the story that I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t real. Forget about the technical aspects of the production; I just wanted Braddock to win! Afterwards, I puzzled over why this was so. I could see why it was important for people during the Depression to pin their hopes on an everyman hero like Braddock. But why was it so important to me? Why—even though I knew the outcome—was I on the edge of my seat throughout the final bout? Do I feel repressed in some way? Or am I just that susceptible to suggestion, to nostalgia? I’m not sure. But I can think of several other reasons why Braddock’s journey and stories like it are important to me and everyone else.

First, stories like Braddock’s give us hope that, like him, we can also overcome the obstacles that hold us back. We can gain a measure of dignity and self-determination—if only to the point where we are able to choose the time and place of our ultimate defeat. We don’t have to give up and become victims or give in to the corruption that is all around us. Never mind that the film’s depiction of Braddock borders on hagiography. His journey reminds us that the good don’t always die young, and nice guys sometimes do finish first. When we’re tempted to compromise our morals for gain, we can reflect back on stories like this one and be inspired to continue pursuing the high and narrow path of virtue.

In a similar vein, stories like Cinderella Man remind us of what’s worth fighting for. Getting to the top isn’t all that matters. In fact, it may not matter at all. It’s the person you become along the way that counts. I find it interesting that even while such stories celebrate success, they tend to cast successful people in a negative light. For example, the boxing promoters—save for Braddock’s manager—are portrayed as a pack of money-grubbing opportunists. And the current heavyweight champion of the world, Max Baer, is like an early incarnation of Hugh Hefner—albeit with a lethal right hook. This begs a number of questions: Why the paradox? Does success always breed corruption? If so, how can the hero retain his virtue in the face of all the temptations victory brings? And how about us: Can we resist those same temptations on our own road to glory? If so, how?

What about the price of victory? Each time Braddock defeated an opponent, I couldn’t help thinking he was merely sending yet another man to the same relief line in which he had only recently been standing. We’re supposed to celebrate Braddock’s victory, because he is the hero of this film. But, as Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Just because the name of the guy at the top changes, that doesn’t mean the forces of evil that kept him down have been overcome. They just have a new victim to kick around. In boxing, as in any sport, when one person wins, someone else loses. How about in life? What can we do to ensure our own heroics don’t wind up victimizing others? Rather than focusing merely on our own journey, how can we ensure that the pursuit of our liberation also leads to the liberation of others? This is a crucial question made even more compelling by the rapidly shrinking nature of our global village. Today, when a butterfly flaps its wings in Asia, the movement truly is felt around the world. How about when you flap your wings, as it were? What kind of ripple effect are you creating?

Stories like Cinderella Man also teach us the importance of community. The community this film focuses on in particular is Braddock’s family. During a press conference when Braddock is asked what he is fighting for, his reply consists of one word: “milk.” When he was a younger man, a prouder man, Braddock was probably a lot more like Max Baer. He fought for all of the things our culture teaches us are important: money, fame, power, and happiness. But years of struggle have taught Braddock that all of those things are merely fleeting. What really matters are love, honor, faithfulness, perseverance, and the people who live right under his roof. Braddock is willing to sacrifice everything—even his life—to protect them, to set a good example for his kids. Perhaps the years of hardship were God’s way of preparing Braddock to handle the victory to come. Rather than destroy his family, as is so often the case, his quest for the title merely makes them stronger as they band together to support his pursuit.

Of course, Braddock’s effect on the wider community—indeed, the nation as a whole—is also central to this film. He became a hero not only to his family but also to his co-workers and to virtually every other person who felt like he or she had been cheated out of the “good life” by the Depression. Cinderella Man reminds us that we all live our lives on a stage. It doesn’t matter whether thousands of people are watching us or merely a handful. It is always important to strive for greatness, to be people of character. Just as Braddock’s life inspires us, our lives serve as an inspiration to others. Whether that inspiration is positive or negative depends upon the example we set.

Despite what I’ve said above, many critics will deride this film for its sentimental, simplistic version of reality. Many already have. But let’s not forget that the name of this film—Cinderella Man—is derived from a fairy tale. Even though such stories are not lauded for their literal representation of reality, we still love and need them, because they are true in a way that reality can never be.

Comment on Kevin's blog

Review by Kevin Miller
Review by Greg Wright
Review by Darrel Manson

Both movies take place during the depression and the years leading up to the Second World War. Both movies are about the triumph of unlikely underdog heroes. But Seabiscuit’s story was literally lifted from the pages of history, trimmed, cleaned of all the unpleasant interwoven messiness that characterized those very dark times, and sanitizingly mythologized. It asked us to believe that a horse and a jockey were what gave the American people sustaining hope.

Cinderella Man also mythologizes the depression. Any mere movie must do so, given the period’s extraordinary complexity. But director Ron Howard’s mythologizing is at least contextualized and satisfyingly dramatized. He shows us that, yes, the American people did champion heroes like Seabiscuit and boxer James J. Braddock because they demonstrated the potential of the discarded and the disenfranchised. But Howard also gives us at least a sense of the global forces that came to bear on American politics and labor relations; he shows us the hardscrabble existence of the literal masses who were so busy surviving that they couldn’t possibly have cared about race tracks or boxing matches; he paints a picture of a nation, embodied in a single family, struggling to keep its faith in the face of endlessly closed doors, empty stomachs and no prospects for work. In short, Cinderella Man earns a place alongside great depression-era films like The Grapes of Wrath and Bound for Glory.

But Cinderella Man doesn’t preach, either. It still works on the level of gentle dramas of the period such as Steven Soderbergh’s King of the Hill. Sure, the true story of Braddock’s riches-to-rags-and-back-again career is compelling enough in its own right. But the real power of Howard’s rendition of the story, and Russell Crowe’s performance as Braddock, lies not in the inevitably predictable and triumphant boxing scenes but in a series of very real, quiet human moments—moments that portray the universal struggle for dignity and peace.

The first of these moments comes when Braddock and his wife, played by Renee Zellweger, find their family of five literally down to their last half-bottle of milk. Howard’s subtle visual composition tells us that the Braddocks do have options; they don’t live in vacuum. But right or wrong, they don’t ask for help, and they don’t help themselves to what’s not theirs. They tighten their belts and remain true to their principles, as tough as that may be. The remaining milk is mixed with water and the hope for a better tomorrow.

Later, one of Braddock’s sons violates the family code of self-respect by lifting a salami from the local butcher. But this is not an occasion for mere lesson-learning. Yes, Braddock sternly takes his son by the arm to personally return the stolen meat to its owner; but Braddock knows the hunger and desperation that has driven his son to such an act, and he makes a promise to his son that he knows he will have a hard time keeping. Discipline meets compassion in a truly loving fashion.

Braddock himself, after all, knows the same hunger and desperation. Even before a boxing match, he goes without a meal so that his children can have a rare second helping. And when the worst of times comes, Braddock, like most of us, finds himself “all prayed out.” Faith is just a nice idea until its tested; but when the testing comes in force, it sometimes seems more than we can bear—though, of course, it never is.

Finally Braddock learns the lesson of contextualization. He learns that no man—no family, no nation—is an island. He learns the hard lesson of humility, even humiliation. To keep his family, to keep that hard promise to his son, he must ask for help. He finds that sometimes the most hard-earned dignity and self-respect is the most precious. The only principle that he must sacrifice to survive is the illusion of indepedence.

And in the end, Braddock learns—no, Ron Howard has the genius and sense to show us—that the heart of human existence is not in the glory of boxing titles. Neither is it in the pathos of the Hoovervilles, the well-intentioned championing of political causes nor the nation-building exercises of countries struggling to find meaning, peace or prosperity. The whole wealth and breadth of human experience may just be found in what we do with a simple bottle of milk.

Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' —Matthew 25:37-40

Comment on Greg's Blog

Review by Kevin Miller
Review by Greg Wright
Review by Darrel Manson

But (and from the previous paragraph you knew there had to be a “but”) after seeing the film, I just felt there was something missing. Maybe it’s because as well done as it is, it doesn’t make the top of any of the genres you could put it in. Ali, Raging Bull, Million Dollar Baby, and even the better films in the Rocky series are better boxing movies. Seabiscuit is a better “hope-of-the-nation-in-the-midst-of-depression” film. Gladiator is better with Russell Crowe as someone who’s lost everything and gets back to the top to fight the bad guy. Still, Cinderella Man is a good film. It just doesn’t make it to greatness.

I think one of the things that I find wanting is that the main character, James L. Braddock is such a nice guy. That sounds strange that I don’t want him to be so nice, but he is flawless. He never loses his temper. He never does anything that even borders on being wrong. Even when Max Baer (the incarnation of evil in the film) says things about Braddock’s wife, Jimmy does nothing while his manager and his wife respond in justified anger.

That lack of any flaws makes Braddock rather uninteresting. True, his rise from the soup line to fighting for the title is inspirational, but the only thing he has battled is luck. Things were hard for many during the Great Depression, which made people identify with Braddock. But it is hard to imagine a man as bland as Braddock is in this film managing to gather the attention of the nation.

It could be that Ron Howard is creating a black and white world. Braddock is the good guy, Max Baer the bad guy (although he was not as malicious as he’s portrayed in the film.) Braddock is the guy who can’t pay his electric bill; Baer lives large as the world champion. Braddock is a family man; Baer is always in the company of two women. Braddock represents wholesomeness.

Therein is part of the problem. It’s easy to cheer on a wholesome hero fighting against external forces of evil. But far more satisfying, at least from my point of view, are those heroes who struggle to overcome the weaknesses in themselves to find success.

Don’t get me wrong. This is a film worth seeing and enjoying. Certainly, you could do worse for a summer flick than Cinderella Man. You may even come away from the film inspired to push on against a tide of bad luck in your own life.

Comment on Darrel's Blog

Review by Kevin Miller
Review by Greg Wright
Review by Darrel Manson

I will not post these comments. I welcome your spiritual concerns and prayer needs.  I will correspond with you, usually within two weeks.
Email David Bruce