Originally released December 15, 2004:

Million Dollar Baby, much like its fledgling female boxing character, has come out of nowhere and made a considerable deal of noise. This little homespun film directed by Clint Eastwood didn’t have the glitz and sheen of other awards friendly movies, but now it seems that Eastwood?s own baby may clean up come Oscar time. Can Million Dollar Baby tackle the enormous hype surrounding it? Yes and no.

]Frankie (Eastwood) is a hardened boxing trainer too concerned for his fighters’ welfare to allow them to fight in championship bouts. He’s the kind of cynical old man that enjoys pestering a priest and causing him to unleash an F-bomb. Frankie and his longtime friend Scrap (Morgan Freeman) run a rundown gym and talk un-sentimentally about their older days as prize fighters. Then along comes Maggie (Hilary Swank), a 32-year old waitress who’s got nothing to believe in except her possibility as a boxer. She wants Frank to train her into the champ she knows she can be. He refuses saying he doesn’t train girls. She’s so determined she won’t take no for an answer. Frank finally agrees, especially after some help from Scrap, and starts to teach Maggie everything she needs to know to be a star pugilist. The two begin to open up to each other emotionally and Maggie seems destined to become a force in the ring.

Million Dollar Baby‘s greasiest attribute is its trio of knockout performances. Swank owns every second of this movie. She’s unremittingly perky, conscientious but also dogged, stubborn, and irresistibly lovable. Swank embodies the role with a startling muscular physique and a million dollar smile. Her performance is equal parts charming and heartbreaking. Maggie’s the heart of Million Dollar Baby and Swank doesn’t let you forget it for a millisecond. Come Oscar time, I’m sure she will be walking onstage to grab her second Best Actress Oscar in five years.

No one does grizzled better than Eastwood, and maybe no other actor has made as much of an acting mark by squinting a lot. Million Dollar Baby is probably his best performance to date, though for a good while it sounds like Frank has something lodged in his throat (pride?). Frank has the greatest transformation, and Eastwood brilliantly understates each stop on the journey until landing in a vulnerable, emotionally needy place.

Freeman once again serves as a film’s gentle narrator. There isn’t a movie that can’t be made better by a Morgan Freeman performance. His give-and-take with Frank feels natural and casual to the point that it seems improvised on the spot. Freeman unloads some great monologues like he’s relishing every syllable, chief among them about how he lost his eye. It’s wonderful to watch such a great actor sink his teeth into ripe material and deliver a performance that may net him a long-awaited Oscar (I think he’s due, and likely so will the Academy).

For whatever reason, Eastwood is hitting a directing groove in his twilight years. First came Mystic River, an ordinary police whodunnit made exceptional by incredible acting. Now Eastwood follows up with Baby, an ordinary sports film made extraordinary by incredible acting. Hmmm, a pattern is forming. The cinematography is crisp and makes great use of light and shadow to convey emotion. Eastwood’s score is also appropriately delicate and somber. The boxing sequences are brief but efficient.

Million Dollar Baby is a very traditional story that is at times surprisingly ordinary. Maggie’s the scrappy underdog that just needs a chance, Frank’s the old timer that needs to find personal redemption, and Scrap’s the wise old black man. Once again, an old curmudgeon takes on a rookie and in the process has their tough facade melt away as the inevitable victories pile up. Million Dollar Baby is a very familiar story but then again most boxing tales are fairly the same in scope.

What eventually separates Million Dollar Baby from the pack is its third act twist. You think you know where Eastwood’s film is headed, especially given the well-worn terrain, but you have no clue where this story will wind up. The plot turn deepens the characters and their relationships to each other in very surprising ways. You may be flat-out shocked how much you’ve found yourself caring for the people onscreen. It almost seems like Eastwood and company have used the familiar rags-to-riches underdog drama to sucker punch an audience into Million Dollar Baby‘s final 30 minutes. We’re transported into an uncomfortable and challenging position, and Eastwood won’t let an audience turn away.

Million Dollar Baby is not the colossal masterpiece that critics have been drooling over. For one thing, the group of antagonists is not nearly as textured as our trio of leads. They’re actually more stock roles that further enforce the ordinary story of Million Dollar Baby. Maggie’s trailer trash family is lazy unsupportive batch of stereotypes. The evil female boxing champ just happens to be a German who doesn’t mind playing dirty. One of the boxers at Frank’s gym is an arrogant showboat just waiting to be nasty while the teacher’s back is turned. Million Dollar Baby excels at showing depth and humanity with its lead trio, yet it seems if you aren’t in that circle you’re doomed to wade in the shallow end.

Eastwood shows that great acting and great characters you love can elevate a common framework. The package may be similar to a lot of films before about scrappy underdogs, but Million Dollar Baby lacks comparison in its genre when it comes to its enthralling acting and characters. The father-daughter bond between Frank and Maggie is heartwarming. The final reveal of what her Gaelic boxing name means may just bring tears to your eyes. The results are a very fulfilling movie going experience, albeit one that regrettably may not live up to such hype.

Million Dollar Baby has been showered with heapings of praise and become a formidable Oscar contender. The story treads familiar waters but its outstanding acting and deep and humane characters elevate the material. The film can’t match the hyperbole of critics but Million Dollar Baby is an ordinary but greatly satisfying ride led by compelling acting. The film hums with professionalism and seems to just glide when everything comes together magnificently, particularly in that last 30 minutes. Eastwood is hitting an artistic stride and it’s actually exciting to see what Clint will do next. Million Dollar Baby may not be a first round knockout but it definitely wins by decision.

Nate’s Grade: B+

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WRITER REFLECTIONS 20 YEARS LATER

Million Dollar Baby was its own underdog story that showed its strength when it mattered most, taking the 2004 Best Picture Oscar, as well as Best Actress for Hilary Swank and Best Supporting Actor for Morgan Freeman. It wasn’t even on many award prognosticators’ radar until the final month of the year. The odds-on favorite for most of 2004 had been Martin Scorsese’s Howard Hughes biopic The Aviator, a lavish recreation of Old Hollywood with the power of Harvey Weinstein behind it. After 2002’s Gangs of New York went 0-10 with its Oscar nominations, Weinstein vowed this would not happen again and that he would get Scorsese that first directing Academy Award, so no expense was spared with a $110 million-dollar budget, exceeding the previous highest Miramax budget from 2003’s Cold Mountain. The narrative was set, the power of Weinstein was behind it, and the context of Hollywood celebrating its own history has long been an appealing formula for an easy Oscar victory. Then came Clint Eastwood’s scrappy little boxing movie and it sucker-punched the established awards narrative, taking the top prize (Sorry Harvey, but if it was any consolation, The Aviator improved upon Gangs’ ratio, winning 5 of 11 noms).

Twenty years later it’s impossible to discuss the legacy of Million Dollar Baby without talking about the legacy of Eastwood as a director. He’s been directing movies ever since 1971’s Play Misty For Me. He initially stuck to what he knew, thrillers and Westerns, with the occasional passion project like 1988’s Charlie Parker biopic, Bird. It all changed for Eastwood with 1992’s Unforgiven, a searing deconstruction of the Western and masculinity and conveniently digested American myth-making that won Best Picture and Best Director for Eastwood. From there, the flinty-eyed, gravelly-voiced filmmaker was seen as an Oscar favorite, though he was only nominated for Best Director three other times out of the twenty-five films he directed after. Eastwood’s been regarded as some higher-minded adult director, but looking over his long list of directorial efforts, the man has always kept to his preferred milieu of thrillers and Westerns with the occasional somber biopic. The more assumed Academy-friendly projects typically gained minimal traction, usually acting nominations like with Richard Jewell, Invictus, and The Bridges of Madison County. Sometimes they’ve just been complete artistic whiffs, like J. Edgar, Jersey Boys, or Hereafter.

The movies that got the most acclaim from Eastwood as director were the elevated genre movies, be they crime thriller (Mystic River), Western (Unforgiven), or sports underdog drama (Million Dollar Baby). The man has an inherent interest in genre movies. He may make a WWII drama from the point of view of the Japanese, completely in Japanese, but then next he’ll make a movie about being a “Get off my lawn” grumpy grandfather taking on street gangs. He made a movie about sending geezers into space, a juror realizing he may actually be guilty of the crime he’s intended to judge, and a corrupt president covering up his crimes (that guy wasn’t even a convicted felon upon inauguration -ha). The man is at his best when he sticks to what he knows, and when he can collaborate with writers who can get the best out of his instincts, the results can be exceptional. He’s a man interested in telling genre stories, and I can respect that. He’s notoriously spartan in his directorial approach with actors, typically only allowing two or so takes before moving on, a.k.a. the anti-Kubrick. The photography is so stark is might be confused for being black and white. There is a stripped-down-to-its-studs quality to the best of Eastwood’s movies, which is why deconstructionist examinations over genres can be especially rewarding. It allows for a larger space for characters to expand and grow and challenge our expectations, which is where Million Dollar Baby still works so well twenty years after it unexpectedly KO’d the awards circuit.

This is a Cinderella sports story balanced by an invigorating surrogate father-daughter relationship. Maggie Fitzgerald (Swank) is so eager to prove herself as a boxer, and we’re so happy to see her gain success and dignity, helping to give her trainer Frankie Dunn (Eastwood) a new sense of purpose. Everything is going right for this pair and it feels like the Hollywood movie we would all know and love, and then it all gets violently torn away when Maggie is injured in the ring and becomes paralyzed from the neck down. From there, Million Dollar Baby transforms from its sports movie formula and becomes something so much more meaningful and interesting and emotionally affecting. We’re constantly playing a mental contrast from before and after the accident. She’s so optimistic and bouncy and full of life. To see the joyous Maggie using her body to give her confidence and identity and overcoming adversity and intimidating more professional opponents through force of will, and then to see her bedridden, wheezing through a ventilator, and so deeply lost in her slack eyes, it’s something awful. She survived the injury but her spirit has been obliterated. Now, this isn’t a commentary on how disabled people cannot live fulfilling lives and might as well be euthanized. Maggie is the one who makes the choice to be euthanized and she will not be swayed, and this decision puts it to her coach, a lifelong Catholic, to demonstrate his love for his pupil through assisted suicide. To me, all that is WAY more dramatically interesting than if she had simply won the big title fight and proven all her many doubters wrong.

Swank rightfully won her second Oscar for Best Actress with a performance of such vitality and despair. At the end, when she’s stuck in that hospital bed, and she’s trying to chew off her own tongue so she can bleed to death, it’s such a devastating change from the chipper, optimistic scrappy underdog. Eastwood is gruff and growly and nearly unintelligible at points, but his reactions and his generosity as an actor help Swank achieve even higher acting greatness. Strangely enough, while Freeman is perfectly good in his Oscar-winning role, you could have cut him completely from the movie and affected very little, besides needing a new outlet for Eastwood to unintelligibly grumble towards.

It can feel like Million Dollar Baby is two different movies smashed together, one without an ending and one without a beginning. If you felt like you were plugged into that rousing sports underdog movie, I can understand feeling cheated by the rug pull. I feel like the version of this movie, by its end, is the one it wanted to be all along, and it’s using your emotional investment in these characters to make the decisions all the more grueling and tragic. Twenty years later, I think I enjoyed the moments before the accident a little less and the moments after the accident much more, and considering the ending seems like the whole point for Million Dollar Baby, that seems like an endorsement for its staying power two decades hence. It still has enough power today from the performances and where it pushes those characters. Million Dollar Baby is still a winner because it fit so well as a vehicle that Eastwood could elevate. He’s 94 years old and not likely directing too many more movies, but if anyone can keep making movies into their triple digits, it’s this man.

Nate’s Grade: A-