• Conor Malcolm Crockford

    This might just have Eastwood’s single best performance.

    • Balthazar Bee

      I love this movie to pieces, and/but it makes me cry with abandon. Normally I can limit my movie weep to a couple of tears, but this is just a full-on tsunami. Even hearing a few bars from the score can do it sometimes.

      I really didn’t expect Eastwood-the-director to allow Eastwood-the-actor to be quite so vulnerable, but he did, and the results are remarkable. Truly a December performance for the ages.

      • Eastwood’s facial reaction to Hillary Swank asking him “Remember that story I told you about my dad and our dog?” is just….God, it’s heartbreaking.

      • Conor Malcolm Crockford

        This is kind of why I don’t find Eastwood’s artistic decline funny as much as “Aw this is a bummer, he was fucking great.”

    • Babalugats

      Freeman, too.

      • Eastwood and Freeman won my Jay and Silent Bob Hetero Life Mate award for 2004 in a walk.

  • Son of Griff

    The basic story of this movie is a classic template for the boxing film– a paternalistic relationship confronting the fatality of a career defined by combat (Think Wallace Beery, road map, etc.). It had gotten so old that it had generally given way to a more modern story in which boxing becomes a source for self actualized achievement. What’s great about this film is that it leads you with the latter then unexpectedly hits you with the former. Damned if it doesn’t work. Yes, it’s a tear jerker, So What!