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Clint Eastwood is certainly one of the most productive directors working today, having made seven movies in the last seven years. The fact that this has taken place while he's in his '70s has made it even more impressive. For a while, though, that productivity seemed somewhat misguided. True Crime, Space Cowboys, and Blood Work might have their defenders among Clint's diehard fans, but the best thing I (and most critics) can say about them is that they were pleasant diversions. Last year's Mystic River changed that pattern, however. No matter what you think about Tim Robbins and Sean Penn's over-heated performances, Eastwood's command of the atmosphere, plot, and setting was masterful. His evocation of lower-class Boston was especially impressive.

Million Dollar Baby has already been hailed by many critics as an even better film, with Roger Ebert going so far as to call it the best film of the year. It's the story of three different people. Actually, two of them-Frankie Dunn (Eastwood) and Scrap (Morgan Freeman)-are pretty much mirror images of each other. Frankie is an old boxing trainer who now trains an up-and-coming fighter and manages a dirty gym. Scrap is an old fighter who helps out around the gym and keeps Frankie company. But the third person in this trinity is very different, indeed. Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank) is a boxer, true, but she's a woman and quite a bit younger than either Frankie or Scrap. She also has an infectious enthusiasm that belies her 33 years, an enthusiasm that positively befuddles Frankie at first.

Maggie has come to Frankie's gym in the hope that he'll train her to become the best female fighter in the world. That seems like a tall order in the beginning. Maggie might have gumption, but she can't even hit the speed bag properly. And at 33, she's already over the hill in boxing terms. Besides, as Frankie tells her repeatedly, "I don't train girls." Things soon change around the old gym, though. Frankie's hot prospect leaves him for another trainer, and Scrap starts showing Maggie the ropes. Soon, even Frankie has to admit the woman might have talent.

What follows is fairly standard-issue. I find it odd that so many critics have willingly overlooked the many clichés Million Dollar Baby relies upon. There's the Rocky scenario where an old trainer takes a rough-around-the-edges fighter and shapes her into something magically ferocious. There's the too-oft-repeated cliché of the wise black man who seems to have no purpose in his life but to steer the white protagonist through the hazards of life. Morgan Freeman seems to play no other role these days, and he's even busier than Eastwood. And then there are the villainous side characters (a dirty opponent, Maggie's white-trash family) who pop up at opportune times so that the audience can boo and hiss. Maggie's family is particularly egregious in this respect, as we're given the baby-faced sister with a baby, a brother fresh out of prison, and the callous, selfish, welfare-cheating mother. The contempt Clint has for these caricatures is all out of proportion to their place in the narrative.

The fact that critics can overlook these obvious flaws is testimony to the movie's many strengths. The performances by our central trio are fantastic. Swank has returned to her "Boys Don't Cry" form with an absolutely devoted portrayal. She has an inward stare that I could watch for hours. Eastwood steps from behind the camera with a performance that's both funny and true. His growing affection for Maggie is palpable, and his deadpan deliveries are exquisite. Morgan Freeman has played this role so many times he's got a trademark on it. But I never get tired of his gravelly but sonorous voice, and he and Eastwood have tremendous chemistry.

Eastwood has also found a perfect directorial style for the material. The gym scenes are especially good, as he uses diagonal long shots across the gym and heavy, almost noirish shadows to evoke an atmosphere that's both realistic and emotional. His commitment to the actual fight scenes isn't as strong (no one will mistake them for real boxing), but he makes up for it with some witty editing and great reaction shots. Much has been made of Eastwood's own musical score, but its main strength is that it's not as intrusive as the music in most movies. Finally, I was somewhat troubled by the moral position of the film's final act (that's all I can say without giving too much away), but the film's propaganda isn't as irritating as some we've seen this Oscar season.

In the end, Million Dollar Baby is a film that feels like a time capsule from the days of classic Hollywood (which might be why it excites critics so much). Its virtues of simple storytelling, sympathetic characters, and great acting are ones we don't always find in today's cinema, and those are enough to make for a compelling film.   

J. Robert Parks   12/20/2004