Film review: Jake Gyllenhaal shines in Southpaw’s tale of redemption

Jake Gyllenhaal plays a rich, happy, successful fighter who has defended his champion’s belt and has an unblemished record, but a fatal altercation strips him of his family, his fortune and career.

Jake Gyllenhaal as Billy Hope in Southpaw. Scott Garfield / The Weinstein Company via AP

Director: Antoine Fuqua

Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Forest Whitaker, Rachel McAdams

Three stars

The rapid fall from grace of light heavyweight champ Billy Hope (Jake Gyllenhaal) in Antoine Fuqua's boxing drama Southpaw is breathtaking.

Just weeks after the rich, happy, successful fighter has defended his champion’s belt and unblemished record, a fatal altercation strips him of his family, his fortune and career.

This being a boxing film, redemption is as much a certainty as the obligatory training montage. But Fuqua, an avid boxer, has pushed the pugilist parable even further.

As a tale of transformation, Southpaw functions in two ways – there's the story of Hope struggling to rebuild his life. And then there's the tale of the actor playing him – and the latter packs the bigger punch.

Gyllenhaal is one of the most exciting leading men in Hollywood. His maturation as an intense, all-in shape-shifter has become especially clear of late in films such as Nightcrawler and Prisoners. Southpaw has him romping in a new weight class.

Much has already been written of Gyllenhaal's bulking up for Southpaw and it is indeed impressive. But beyond the startling sight of the actor we once knew as Donnie Darko covered in muscles and tattoos, Gyllenhaal's performance is most dynamic in the tender, mumbled moments with his wife (Rachel McAdams) or daughter (Oona Laurence). Outside of the ring, his Billy Hope sounds like a guy who's been knocked around.

Fuqua (Training Day, The Equalizer) prefers a visceral directness – he has made a comeback movie about a boxer called Hope, after all – and for the fight scenes he favours a more straightforward, accurate view of the action in the ring than, say, the impressionistic poetry of Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull.

Realism, though, is soon swapped for melodrama thicker than a heavy punchbag. As Hope and his wife exit a gala fundraiser, a boxing rival taunts him. Unable to resist, Hope reacts, a melee ensues and tragedy results.

In the aftermath, Hope spirals downwards, loses his family and the money dries up. Once rock bottom is reached, he sets about righting himself in that fountain of redemption: the rundown boxing gym.

He turns to unglamorous trainer Tick Willis (the reliably excellent Forest Whitaker), who spouts all the wisdom of boxing and life that a corner man should.

If the footwork of Southpaw, written by Kurt Sutter (Sons of Anarchy), is never quite as light as a feather, its heart is seldom in doubt. The solid acting, led by Gyllenhaal and Whitaker, livens up the clichés, and Fuqua's deep affection for the sport gives the movie a brisk, entertaining earnestness.

This is a parable that believes strongest in boxing itself.