The Violent Man Glorifed, and His Mistress Pleased

Rating: 7/10 (13 April 2006)

"Cinderalla Man" is a movie about gendered confrontation between the heroic archetype of man, and the circumstances which vitiate ALL of men's struggles against adversity, and despair.
The juxtaposition between "cinderela" and "man" provides us with an obvious, and most profound dichotomy between the spirit or male/female relationships. At once the man as dreamer, and the woman as hope/faith - the Saviour of our transgressions.
Are we not going tired of this relational nexus? Perhaps this is an academic question. We are bound to relate to the desperation of the impoverished soul. The Man, qua provider, is guilt ridden, and rendered useless. As "men", as dutiful, subservient providers, the boxer is most comfortable with violence, the dull blunt blow to his opponents skull. This violence is simple, learned, refined.
Men are at their finest when simplicity reigns, and the consequence of any action, any friction leads either to glory or shame. On this linear scale, men do not understand love without pride, victory without concomitant shame of the vanquished.
A woman may not experience shame as her hungry kids run wild, pleading necessity as bread becomes their only sustenance. But a man will lose that which makes the man, pride, protection, reliance.
This film reaffirms the gendered roles of Man and Woman. It does this in non-prejudicial fashion. Old-school feminists may cringe. But beauty is found in Man is Saviour, Jesus on the cross. Beauty in woman is grace, understanding, and deference to the man that acts out of instinct. The sharp blow - the temporary victory - and then he must return to face the sins of his progeny.
This film describes the male condition. The pride that accompanies glorious victory, and the decrepitude that invades his soul upon defeat.
The moral: man is moved and impoverished by love and desperation to avoid the stripping of his pride -- woman by pragmatics; woman by love, devotion.
These ideas are indeed dated, but a careful observer of the husband/wife dynamics as so explicitly expressed by "Cinderalla Man" may shed the modern, and peel back to the fundamental difference in gender. And the contribution each makes to join, to live, to experience the ecstasy of existence.
And happiness is lost in love, but found in the memories of the nostalgic. It was "bad" says our brains, but our heart - the biggest in boxing - relieves this naive premiss, and instructs on the give and take of love.
Perhaps among the best boxing films of the twentieth century. Man against Man. Man against himself. And beauty in the heart that destroyed the body but cries out admit simultaneous bliss/defeat tethered to the loose strings of the ring. Boxing makes every brave should eternal, and this heart, this peace rings like the bell of the final round.
Behing in the score card, bleeding, we are men that deserve the dulcimer forgiveness of Mary, of all women who spread their wisdom like fire. And place incest at the feet of our ruin.
We run from this burn, but this burn is our Saviour. Hot, lamentable - BUT WE EXIST, and tip the sounder to quit the death knell, and let us resume the only role we know. We relax. And pray that in our defense cowardice was prudence, and we live another day. To squeeze the love bliss from our intimate encounters. And finally save ourselves in the lost, careening sky that falters - for NO ONE is witness, save out pitiful selves.