From the age-old triumph against adversity theme to inevitable training montages to being left punch-drunk on the canvas, the boxing movie had too often followed a tired and overfamiliar trope. Giant, however, is different. Receiving its world premiere at this year’s London Film Festival, this colourful drama traces the rise of Prince Naseem Hamed, the British boxer from Sheffield and practising Muslim, who was also a hero in the Arabic-speaking world, given both his parents came from Yemen.
The first British Muslim boxing world champion, Hamed was known for his cockiness in the ring and out of it, an arrogance that became his signature style as he danced around opponents, evading their punches. All of this would make for an interesting enough biopic, but Rowan Athale’s film gives us another perspective. This is not about Hamed (confidently played by Egyptian-British actor Amir El-Masry) so much as it is about his trainer, Brendan Ingle (Pierce Brosnan), an Irish-born former boxer who ran his own club in Sheffield.
Ingle was known for his unorthodox methods, often pairing professionals and young amateurs in the ring (punches would be exchanged, but only body blows, never to the face). It was enough to cause him to lose his licence to train amateurs, which means when the young Naz starts fighting at amateur level, Ingle can’t be in his corner at bouts. But Ingle was crucial in other ways, nurturing the boy from the age of 7 like a father figure, after he spotted his nifty footwork (Michael Jackson would be proud of those moonwalks).
Written and directed by British-Indian filmmaker Athale (Wasteland), the backdrop of these early 1980-set scenes evoke memories of a Britain beset by racism. National Front louts graffiti the corner shop run by Hamed’s mother, and he and his two older brothers are frequently abused. Even the boxing officials aren’t above making vile comments, while the all-white crowds see this remarkable talent as a pantomime villain to boo. Ingle encourages Hamed to use that hatred as fuel, something he takes to heart.
At 18, Hamed turns pro, initially fighting as a bantamweight before moving to featherweight and the bright lights of Las Vegas’s MGM Grand. El-Masry expertly captures Hamed’s fighting style, goading his opponents in the ring as he ducks and weaves around the blows. The boxing scenes are vibrant, and Athale and his camera team vividly realise the bouts, with some impressive aerial shots (it doubtless helps that Rocky himself, Sylvester Stallone, is an executive producer).
Unlike most boxing movies, religion plays a part. Hamed prays like any devout Muslim, and even thanks Allah after his wins. But the more successful he becomes, with the help of mega-promoter Frank Warren (Toby Stephens), the wealthier he gets. Money becomes his god, and it’s this avarice that leads to fractures in his relationship with Ingle. He thanks God for his gifts, increasingly believing Ingle had little to do with his success. For the Irish trainer, it’s a powerful body blow.
Brosnan, who tempers his Irish accent compared to the more cartoonish brogue he adopted in the recent TV drama Mobland, finds some real emotional heft. There’s something delightful about the former James Bond having a boogie to Sweet’s Blockbuster at the local kids’ disco, as he does here, which perhaps makes his fallout with his prodigy all the more painful. As the film reminds us at the close, Hamed retired at just 28, having won 36 of 37 fights. You’re left with the impression that the split from Ingle weighed heavily on him. The Prince without his most loyal servant, no longer invincible.
