Ali
dir. Michael Mann
Columbia Pictures
Ali does not resemble "the Greatest" as the world is fond of remembering
him: quick, funny and endlessly triumphant. Instead, Ali mirrors the boxing
legend — now in his 50s and humbled by Parkinson's Disease — as he is today.
Layered, rich and charming, the film occasionally crackles like the night
sky during a thunderstorm. Yet, between those flashes and rumbles, there
are long mellow spells of heavy, warm rain. If you love the champ or enjoy watching a
tempest take shape, you will gladly bask in Ali's glow.
Ali is the latest in a string of meditative,
textured biopics that deliver a poignancy
that stories featuring fictional heroes can't match. We too easily dismiss the achievements
of fearless, imagined characters — their conflicts are contrived. The
devils they face are doomed because the script says so. When they suffer, we
can comfort ourselves by remembering, "It's only a movie."
But great biopics can seem more than movies. They may only hint at the whole story, but they
nevertheless bring us closer to their subjects. To save time and highlight major themes,
biopics divide lives into snapshots — the facts are blurred
and some events are omitted.
But don't hold these cinematically essential edits against the genre. Any given history,
whether it's from a textbook or our own memory, is always
missing facts.
What's important in biopics is how true are the glimpses we are shown. Can we learn from them?
Do we dare imagine what it was like to live the moments between the scenes?
As such, the decisions featured in Ali are the boxer's own; the rewards and costs he
incurs are concrete, and director Michael Mann does an extraordinary job
of placing Ali in its proper context. Introduced to the heavyweight boxing
circuit in the 1960s as a loudmouth named Cassius Clay, Ali entered the
controversial Nation of Islam and renamed himself Cassius X. The Honorable
Elijah Muhammed later christened him Muhammad Ali. Malcolm X was a mentor; sportscaster
Howard Cosell and singer Sam Cooke were friends. The Uniter States classified him as a draft dodger when
he refused induction into the armed forces during the Vietnam War; he never stopped classifying
himself as "the people's champion."
Mann fully chronicles the political atmosphere, but also intentionally avoids rendering
a definitive portrait of Ali. Instead,
the director skillfully gives the relationships and events that shaped
Ali's life — between winning the heavyweight crown from Sonny Liston to regaining it
from George Foreman — its time on center stage. Then, Mann gracefully allows the
bold encounters to recede into the shading. The result is a film with the
feel of an impressionist painting that offers a flavor of the pressures
simmering around Ali.
Also adding master strokes is a fine cast eager
to pour its talents into the material. Every actor — Jamie Foxx playing the
motivator/drug addict/friend Bundini over the course of the film or Jada
Pinkett Smith as Ali's first wife in the opening half hour — completely fleshes out his or her role;
Mario Van Peebles as Malcolm X is particularly haunting and powerful.
Will Smith, however, shines above all others. Carrying the burden and risk
of portraying Ali, Smith does not falter. He uses his natural charisma in
measured doses and fills the quiet moments with brilliant understatement.
As he did in his electric role in Six Degrees of
Separation, Smith proves that he has serious acting chops. Ali benefits
tremendously from his work.
Superb biopics like this do justice to their subjects and enrich their audiences by
reminding us of the extraordinary people and possibilities that exist in our
world; films that, without sugarcoating their protagonist's troubles, teach us to
appreciate human flaws and to emulate the best of human nature. While the
remarkable people that spring from creative minds have no choice but to play
their parts, the brave individuals in our midst move of their own free will.
The inspirational bit is that so do we.
— Rasheed Newson (rasheednewson@hotmail.com)
