Cinderella Man

Cinderella Man is the story of a Depression-era boxer and American hero Jim Braddock that contains enough love interest, family interest and great-champion-of-the-people interest to satisfy most Saturday night filmgoers. It's a total no-brainer, beautifully served up. All the cliches are delivered with such an accurate emotional punch that you forgive it for being a tad unoriginal.

Gladiator and bar-brawl actor Russell Crowe plays the lead role and Renee Zellweger puts in a convincing performance as the ideal and very loving wife who supports her husband through thick and thin. The story starts in 1928 when Braddock is doing quite well, but the Depression hits and, with an injured hand, he is forced to work in the shipyard. He and his family live in fairly abject poverty until a lucky break enables him to make a comeback.

This is the workingman's hero who never says a bad word, teaches his kids never to steal for food, even when they are starving, and nobly gives back his social security money the minute he can afford to. His good lady is similarly faultless, of course, striking the right balance between unquestioning devotion and concern that her man may get his brains knocked out permanently. The final fight generates genuine excitement, due largely to neat editing and intense cinematography - you can almost feel your nose bleed just watching it.

This is classic American-style hero creation and worship and, on the face of it, healthy enough. So why the doubts?

Sure, you can sit back and enjoy. It's the type of story Hollywood has done well for years, but compare it with European cinema and it seems too full of absolutes. These people don't have flaws. The choice is between total success and total failure - no half measures.

Much as I admire the use of role models, I wonder if more heroes-with-human-failings aren't sometimes called for, people who better themselves and others, who do quite well, but without becoming the most applauded individuals on the continent.

In watching the big picture are we in danger of missing the detail that makes life real for everyone, not just the lucky few?