Michael Mann has done the impossible -- made Muhammed Ali a bore.

Rating: Null/10 (8 January 2002)

With apologies to Brian DePalma, if `Ali' doesn't cement Michael Mann as The Most Frustratingly, Inconsistent Director in Hollywood, then nothing will. As a lifelong fan of the Champ's, I was at first thrilled to hear that Mann had been tapped to direct Ali's life story. Mann's "The Insider" was excellent and demonstrated his deft hand with large, ensemble casts. With an A-list director, a huge budget, and more talent than you could shake a stick at, `Ali' should've been the definitive biopic of The Greatest. Instead, what we get is a ponderously slow, soulless set of Cliff's Notes.

What went wrong? Hard to say. I mean, make no mistake, "Ali" is definitely a handsome movie. With a $100 million budget, the production values are all top-notch. Unfortunately, in his aesthetic zeal, Mann seems to shortchanged "Ali" of its story and most unforgiveable of all, its rich cast of characters.
By eschewing the mythic, larger-than-life approach to Muhammed Ali's life, Mann's premise was an intriguing one. The supposition that the most recognized athletic personality of the 20th century was nothing more than a meticulously crafted alter ego was bold. By proferring us a deeper, more tortured Louisville Lip, "Ali" tantalizes us with promises of insight. But Mann abruptly pulls a "bait-&-switch" on us, abandoning his own premise. Rather than following through and delivering us a powerful character study, Mann instead inexplicably shifts gears and turns his movie into a lavishly overblown rehash of facts. It's as if, feeling the crunch, Mann decided to cut his losses and cobble this movie together as a long, expensive history lesson.
Focusing on the crucial years of Ali's exile from the ring, the film's pacing is breezily indifferent, almost indifferent. In my humble opinion, Ali's act of civil disobedience during Vietman should have been the emotional crux of this movie. Instead, it's treated as a peccadillo afterthought; an inconsequential filler to mark time between elaborate fight sequences. Frankly, it was a colossal waste of money. Because we already KNOW who the outcome of these epic battles, Mann's fight scenes lack any sense of tension or suspense. All they are, are pointless re-enactments. Case in point: the film's climactic 1974 meeting against George Foreman. No offense, Michael, but anyone who's seen "When We Were Kings" can tell you, we know the Rumble In the Jungle and that, sir, was no Rumble In the Jungle.

As for the performances, it's hard criticizing actors when a movie is as fundamentally flawed as this one is. To take the high road, let's just say that they're all overwhelmingly -- adequate. Though he tries, Will Smith's portrait of Ali as a sullen, brooding cypher is a disastrous mistake. By stripping The Greatest of his legendary garrulous persona, Smith forces himself into an impossible corner as an actor. Intuitively gifted as he is, there's no characterization that Will Smith could possibly offer that could fill that vacuum.
The amount of sheer talent wasted in this movie is almost criminal! In the role of Ali manager Angelo Dundee, Ron Silver has virtually nothing to do but look bored. Shamefully wasted too, is the remarkable Jeffrey Wright in the role of confidant Howard Bingham, whose hovering presence is never adequately explained aside from being the camp photographer. With nothing to work with, Mykelti Williams and Jon Voight are relegated to turning in shallow, caricaturish impressions of Don King and Howard Cosell, respectively. It's bad enough that every low-rent comic has aped these two sports figures ad nauseum; but Voight also has the added burden of having to compete with his own make-up! Voight's prosthetic job has got to be the most distractingly disturbing one in recent film history. The only actor who comes close to providing some welcome sparks of life in this movie is Jamie Foxx (in the part of professional hanger-on, Carl Bundini.) Foxx's moments are so few and far-between, however, that ultimately, this too becomes irrelevant.
Could it be that the Muhammed Ali we've known all our lives was a disguise? A convenient facade that masked a darker, more complex human underneath? It's a interesting question that "Ali" asks, but regrettably, never bothers to answer.