Grudge Match
Starring Robert De Niro, Sylvester Stallone, Kim Basinger, Alan Arkin
Directed by: Peter Segal
Running time: 113 minutes
Parental Guidance
Rating: Three stars out of five
Long brewing in the aluminum urn of Hollywood’s caffeine truck, comes a great — but over-steeped — idea poured into a cardboard cup of story.
We’ll drink it, grudgingly, because it looks and smells like what we expect, but every sip of the mediocre sludge called Grudge Match comes with an aftertaste of tragedy, the acid burn of what could have been.
After all, this movie starring Robert De Niro and Sylvester Stallone started with great beans: two larger-than-life talents charged with a legacy of cinematic history. Finally, we could see Rocky and Raging Bull in the same ring.
Obviously, no such fight could have ever happened — even in the annals of cinema — because De Niro’s Raging Bull was based on the real-life fighter Jake LaMotta, and Rocky was pure sap tapped from Stallone’s creative trunk.
Moreover, at their prime, De Niro and Stallone represented entirely different sides of the dramatic story, with the former being an art-film superstar and the latter bearing the stars and stripes for the lowbrow masses.
Yet, that doesn’t mean the eight-by-ten glossies of each fictionalized fighter — in their respective Everlast trunks — doesn’t amount to a match worth wanting.
Of course we want to see a digitized dramatization of a fantasy LaMotta-Balboa bout, and that’s exactly why we’ll drink Grudge Match to the last drop: This movie from Peter Segal (Tommy Boy, 50 First Dates) offers realistic footage of what their fight might have looked like had the two lords of the ring ever faced off for the title.
Using computers, stunt fighters and what appears to be footage from their respective Hollywood histories, code writers and technicians create an archive of faux fights for our two central characters, Henry “Razor” Sharp (Stallone) and Billy “The Kid” McDonnen (De Niro).
The fantasy newsreel sets up the backstory as we learn these two heavyweights were about to finally settle their even score when Henry suddenly retired without reason. The third, and deciding, title fight was never fought, leaving both men without a decent sense of closure — or the history books of boxing without a clear and reigning victor.
Enter Dante, the opportunistic promoter played with stale snap by comedian Kevin Hart. Seizing the sleazy opportunity that arises when the two old foes get into a tussle that goes viral, Dante sets a date at the local arena for a “grudge match” featuring the two has-beens.
The rest is a remix of every fighter movie cliché, told with tongue-in-saggy-cheek sass.
From the amount of cholesterol in the raw-egg cocktails to the man-boob factor, the screenwriters did not hold back on any brittle cracks about old age because that’s the meat of the joke and the heart of the story.
These two old warriors are about to fight one last time, potentially to the death. As a result, everything in their lives comes back to haunt them, including Sally (Kim Basinger), the old flame that burned them both, as well as the baby she never told them about.
So far, the only thing that deviates from cliché is the golden-ager angle, and thanks to Alan Arkin in the role of Henry’s scooter-riding trainer, we’re treated to every Viagra-and-prune-juice joke imaginable in easy-to-digest deadpan.
Combined with light touches, such as nods to the new reflex of recording every crazy moment on an iPhone, the movie finds enough comedy through satire and self-reference to get us through the dramatic slog.
The emotional stuff, for the most part, turns to mud because while De Niro has the dramatic dexterity and depth to dance lightly with few steps, Stallone digs his feet into the dirt and tries to deadlift every scene as though it were a bowed barbell.
The exertion shows on his half-frozen face as he tries to muster nuance beneath a helmet of manicured dark hair and eyebrows apparently on-loan from Liza Minnelli. He’s even studied Clint Eastwood’s walk, and tried to appropriate the body language he used in Gran Torino.
It’s a sad charade made all the sadder by De Niro’s confidence, and his quiet ability to put us at ease in any part. He surrenders to the character, but Sly can’t seem to let go of whatever alter ego he created for himself back in the day.
His body is well maintained. But it doesn’t look right. He looks like a cooked sausage that’s too small for its casing, and while the look works a strange magic for Mickey Rourke, it betrays Sly’s denial of his own mortal process — which is what this movie was supposed to be about.
At least, that’s that the premise promised, given it’s about two men in their 60s exchanging body blows. A punch to the head is dangerous enough in your 20s, but repetitive hits to the cabbage in your sixties is a recipe for catastrophic brain injury.
This movie doesn’t want to accept the reality of its topic and treats us to a full fight, complete with pretty girls in bikinis holding up the sign for each round to make sure we can follow along for maximum boxing-movie predictability.
In real life, both men would be dead by the final frames, but you can rest assured this golf cart ride through Hollywood’s backlot doesn’t end on a downer. It actually ends with real pathos as it shows us Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson, two aging gladiators so desperate for a paycheque, they agreed to do the cameo for the tail credits.
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