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Play It to the Bone Review by
Cynthia Fuchs
Two
grown men, best friends and romantic rivals, beat the crap out of each other for
money. It
doesn't sound like much of a plot. But narrative intricacies have never much
interested writer-director Ron Shelton, who has been upfront in the press about
the conception and production history of his new film, Play it to the Bone.
But if it's not elaborate, the film's story is efficient, at least on paper. As
Shelton tells it, he proceeded in lieu of big-studio backing, by whipping out a
script based on a true story, casting it quickly and shooting it even more
quickly: the whole thing -- from story idea to wrap -- was done in six months. You
could call this process efficient. You could also call it daring or hip or
"independent." but you could also call it practical. Shelton is no
stranger to the ways of Hollywood, he
has lots of friends (many of whom show up in the final boxing scene, set in Las
Vegas), and he has a realistic sense of what he can do well. He's been praised
in the past for making entertaining and insightful movies about sports, in
particular, male sports. With Bull Durham, White Men Can't Jump, Tin
Cup, Cobb, the filmmaker has revealed the emotional and sometimes
existential experiences of professional athletes, people often dismissed by the
general public as overpaid and under-intelligent. Shelton likes his subjects --
even the ostensible monsters like Ty Cobb -- and makes it his business to
display their complexities, make them vulnerable and arrogant, talented and
troubled, and, on occasion, provide them with charismatic women partners (Rosie
Perez as the Jeopardy winner in White Men, and of course, Susan
Sarandon as a Walt Whitman fan named Annie in Bull Durham). The
new movie is both less and more of the same thing. That is, Play It To the
Bone looks closely at power dynamics between macho guys and at the same
time, can't seem to get its mind around the ways those dynamics both reflect and
broad-based cultural pathologies. Its protagonists are two pro boxers, sparring
partners in a beat gym in LA. Madrid-born Cesar Dominguez (Antonio Banderas) and
good ol' boy Vince Boudreau (Woody Harrelson) are hard-bodied and tightly wired,
anxious enough to get on with their stalled careers that they accept an
invitation to fill in the suddenly vacant undercard fight at yet another Mike
Tyson "Fight Of The Century." (The spots are vacant because the young
contenders succumb to two of the more flagrant excesses of almost making it,
drugs and fast cars.) It's
not to Vince or Cesar's credit that they're so easy to tap, and that's what
scuzzy promoters Joe Domino (Tom Sizemore) and his partner Artie (Richard Masur)
are counting on. The boys say yes, even given the condition that they need to be
in Vegas by 6pm that day, and there's no cash for airfare. Then they tap their
ex-girlfriend Grace Pasic (Lolita Davidovich), for a ride in her 1972 Olds 442
convertible and natch, she says okay. Road trip! This
set-up puts the threesome in simultaneously close and moving quarters,
beautifully accented by the car's lime-green paint job, for the bulk of the
film's 124 minutes running time. Of course, they engage in conversations that
reveal much about their characters and philosophies: Grace, who is Vince's ex
when they begin and breaks up with Cesar while they're on the road, appears to
be looking for a man who'll do right by her, that is, support her emotionally as
well as financially. This doesn't quite explain her attachment to either Vince
or Cesar, but it does establish her as a rather mundane man's version of a
woman. This
point about Grace is underlined when, the trio picks up Lia (Lucy Liu, of Ally
McBeal's "lesbian kiss" fame), who agrees to pay their truck-stop
restaurant bill in exchange for a ride to Vegas. Lia's wily and lovely, quite
aware of her evidently irresistible sexuality; that is, she doesn't so much walk
around in her miniskirts as she slithers and entices. Liu is being well paid
these days for playing the exotic Asian, as she's done it repeatedly (in
addition to Ally McBeal, Payback and True Crime, and she's
recently been cast as the "ethnic" Charlie's Angel). It's no surprise
that she's winning acclaim playing characters at once stale and stunning, but
the meanings of these characters, how they work for viewers, are hardly fixed.
In interviews, Liu describes herself as expanding possibilities for Asian
actors, but the case can be made that her roles reinforce all kinds of
stereotypes. Play
It To the Bone
treats Liu-as-Lia in a particularly asinine way: her central function seems to
be bringing the threesome together after igniting fights among them. In the car,
she shows off her body, smokes dope, inquires about harder drugs, flirts with
Cesar, fucks Vince behind a gas station (on top of the dead tires), and then,
worst of all, makes a crack about Grace's age. You may have seen the outcome of
this episode in the movie's trailer: Grace punches Lia full in the jaw and
sniffs, "I don't like you either!" Apparently, someone thinks this is
a joke that will draw audiences., the sturdy white woman belting the hell out of
the young, lithe interloper. It's not unlike the scenes that audience approval
on Jerry Springer, but perhaps this is exactly what the filmmakers are
anticipating, an identification with the "good" Grace, structured by a
dramatic contrast with the pesky chick. But
for all the potential consternation to be derived from the Grace and Lia
conflict, it is the men's relationship that exposes the film's curious
conceptions of loyalty and morality. The bind of the guys' friendship (no drama
if they're pals) is almost immediately eliminated, when they start fighting over
Grace (that her name is so blatantly symbolic is not exactly to the film's
credit). As the trip continues, they fight over whose career is in worse shape,
who cheated when or whom, who's the best lover, who's the best fighter, not to
mention Vince's visions of Christ, who appears to offer silent advice, which
Vince then tries desperately to interpret (that you see Christ with him ensures
that you won't judge him for such apparent lapses in sanity). The
topic that makes them most crazy with each other is, predictably, homosexuality.
Since they spend so much of their lives in homosocial situations (like soldiers
or football players), Vince and Cesar work overtime to assert their
heterosexuality, narrating their bedroom exploits (here, by repeating to each
other tales of their love for Grace) and adventures in “heteronormalizing”
violence. Such exchanges are familiar territory for Shelton: his male buddies (Costner
and Tim Robbins, Harrelson and Wesley Snipes, Costner and Cheech Marin), must
confront and work through their anxieties while affirming their preference for
the opposite sex, usually through displays of hostility and brutality, in
varying degrees. This is the well-known way of the macho world, and Shelton's
films have repeatedly illustrated its conventionality, conformity, and basis in
fear. In
Play It To the Bone, the topic erupts when Cesar says that he has had a
"homosexual experience" some years back, a confession that send Vince
into spasms of identity crisis: if het buddy Cesar might acknowledge and act on
same-sex desire, what does that say about: a) their friendship, and b) his
assumptions about his own desires? Though the film seems to offer Vince's horror
as comedy, it's hardly a stretch to make connections between this intimate
moment (as they share histories and fears) and the ferocious Vegas bout that
closes the film. Neither
scene resolves the men's relationship; instead, both muddle it immensely, by
showing that their mutual trust only becomes visible to them as they violate it,
by lying and emotional grappling, as much as by physically abusing one another.
The fight is endless: slow motioned and bloody and repetitive, with the
ostensible outcome being, the more they beat each other up, the more they
realize that they really like each other. It's a long ride to get there. Contents | Features | Reviews
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