No, It Doesn't Work

Rating: 1/10 (9 February 2005)

*Spoilers Inside* (Please, don't read this review unless you've seen the film.) I saw Clint Eastwood's "Million Dollar Baby" after hearing glowing reviews from critics and friends. I heard that it spun a story you thought you knew into new and unexpected territories. I heard it was magnificent. I was ready to love it.
I left the theater feeling cheated, not only because of the jarring twist that renders all before it null and void, but also because of the genuinely shoddy direction, screen writing, and cinematography. Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank) is a white-trash waitress with the dream of making it as a boxer... Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood) is the grizzled, crusty trainer who refuses to take her on as a client. Morgan Freeman is... Morgan Freeman, the noble, dignified black man that he plays in every film in which he's ever appeared. No surprises yet. After what feels like the longest first act in film history, Frankie finally agrees to come out of retirement and train Maggie. We are introduced to a harmless, semi-retarded boxer named 'Danger,' which was such heavy foreshadowing that I literally could not stop thinking about him for the rest of the film, positive he would prove to be the red herring that would kill, maim, or seriously injure one of our leads. The joke was on me- the character serves NO purpose in spite of his significant screen time.
The idea that Maggie becomes an international superstar and contender for the championship and still does not know the meaning of the Gaelic nickname Clint has embroidered on her robe is absurd. And painful. When Maggie finally gets her title fight, an illegal punch by her monster-like opponent sends her to the mat, landing head-first on her corner stool- an event which in real life would disqualify her opponent and possibly concuss Maggie instead wins her opponent the fight and renders Maggie paralyzed, bedridden and ventilator-dependent for the rest of her miserable life. Are we having fun yet? This third act is where the movie falls entirely apart. Morgan Freeman's character is revealed as nothing more than a narrator, a prop, as he serves no point in character or story.
Maggie's monstrously cruel family (ever notice how the antagonists in this "brilliant character study" seem to be pure evil?) abandon her and only Frankie will stay by her side, taking care of the once-strong girl who can now barely speak. When she does speak, she predictably begs Frankie to kill her, to end her life and put her out of her pain and misery. Frankie finally decides to oblige after the mandatory wrestling with his conscience... he slips in one night as quietly as the angel of death and wishes Maggie goodbye, finally telling her the true meaning of the nickname he gave her. First, there is no chance in hell she would not already know, and secondly, by this point in the film it's so obvious that Frankie loves the girl like a daughter that the point is moot. The scene could have been saved by Maggie warmly saying, "I know," after Frankie tells her the meaning, but no... she's wide-eyed and surprised and moved beyond words.
So Frankie offs the girl and slips away, never to be seen or heard from again. Wouldn't the nurses in the intensive care unit be alerted when a patient's vitals flat-line? Wouldn't there be a criminal investigation as to who killed this girl? A funeral, even? Not in Million Dollar Baby, baby. All we get is the god-like Freeman narrating the epilogue, pondering where Frankie is and what he might be doing. Problem is, I genuinely didn't care. What I did care about was the fact that the movie was filmed in GlaucomaVision... poorly-lit, out-of-focus, and often underexposed. (There's an art to shadows, Mr. Eastwood, and this isn't it) If you don't believe me about the visuals take a look at the scene in which Freeman and Eastwood watch Swank's first bout from the back of the arena... Morgan stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and there seems to be a key light on his little belly, drawing attention to his little bulge and making him look more heavy than he really is. There are a number of Steadicam shots in which the subject of the shot is lost, and boxing matches shot so shaky that people in the theater couldn't tell who was fighting. (At least it wasn't just me.)
Million Dollar Baby is not only mis-titled, it's mis-made. The film exploits the boxing genre and a sack of sports-movie clichés in order to justify the idea of mercy killing. It is unsatisfying, incomplete, and poorly-produced. It manipulates the audience by using an absurd fictional story in order to prepare us for the "shocking" ending... a better movie would have been less black and white and allowed us to decide for ourselves. The movie is nothing more than a calculated stunt, and Clint should have retired after "Mystic River." It's better to go out on top... just ask Maggie Fitzgerald.
GRADE: F