The Fighter

In mid-90s Lowell, Massachusetts, down-on-his-luck boxer “Irish” Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) lives in the perpetual shadow of his older half brother/trainer, drug addled former fighter Dicky Eklund (Christian Bale). With the encouragement of his barmaid girlfriend Charlene (Amy Adams), Micky begins to seek more for himself. But will he be able to go the distance if it means breaking free of his family?


From Raging Bull to Ali to Cinderella Man, the boxing biopic has been done to death. Despite this, director David O. Russell and Wahlberg (who also produced) found some new and interesting things to say. The fact that this was nearly a very different film – Darren Aaronofsky was attached to direct and Brad Pitt would have played Eklund) – adds to the intrigue.


For starters, The Fighter shows a very unglamorous, almost pedestrian side of the boxing world. Though a classic underdog with something to prove, Micky Ward isn’t mobbed up, battling addiction, or making a political statement; he’s a quiet guy trying to regain his confidence. His style isn’t flashy, either. An opportunist in the ring, he stays on defense and takes damage until he can connect with a crippling body blow. To match this, the film doesn’t rely on slow motion, crowd reaction shots, or other standard gimmickry (though there is an obligatory training montage). As a result, everything seems more authentic. We feel bad for Micky when he is huddled against the ropes taking punch after punch, and we feel triumphant when he finally begins to battle back.


The acting in The Fighter is also top-notch. Wahlberg’s performance is understated but credible. He doesn’t play Ward as Rocky or Superman, but as an ordinary blue-collar type looking to catch a break. Bale, on the other hand, continues to show why he is capable of just about anything. His skinny, strung out, overconfident, irrepressibly boisterous Eklund seems over-the-top at first, but an appearance by the real Eklund at the end of the film shows just how well he nailed the mannerisms. That a 37-year-old Briton could convincingly play a 39-year-old Bostonian’s older sibling is a testament to his range.


It is the ladies, however, who nearly steal the film. Adams, known for playing sweet and cheerful types, demolishes typecasting as the tough, brazen, outspoken Charlene (she pulls off a decent accent, too). Not to be outdone, Melissa Leo (a mere 11 years younger than Wahlberg) makes her mark as the family’s overbearing matriarch, Alice Ward. Not since the late Nancy Marchand’s turn as Livia Soprano has a mother appeared this manipulative and domineering.


Filmed in location in Lowell, The Fighter incorporates a number of artifacts from Ward’s life. The actual gym he trained at makes an appearance, as do his actual trainer and Sugar Ray Leonard (both play themselves). The film’s tension and tough-mindedness is occasionally undercut by doses of awkward humor (a Russell specialty), but they increase the entertainment value.


The Fighter isn’t a probing character study ala The Wrestler, a portrait of self-destruction like Raging Bull, a sprawling period piece like Ali or a feel-good story like any other number of films. It begs and borrows from all of them though, and in doing so, manages to stand with the best of them.


8.25/10

Djibouti: A Novel

Accompanied by her physically imposing assistant Xavier, award-winning documentary filmmaker Dara Barr travels to the African country of Djibouti to shoot a film on the ongoing piracy problem. The pair meet a variety of local players, including eccentric Texas oilman Billy Wynn and his bored model girlfriend Helene, affable Somali pirate Idris and his scheming British-educated Saudi bureaucrat partner Harry, and Jama Raisuli, an American-born Al Qaeda operative intent on evading capture. As the plot thickens, Dara and Xavier go from being mere spectators to holding the keys to saving many lives.


Reading this book produced three successive reactions: Elmore Leonard has lost his touch, Elmore Leonard has lost his mind, and Elmore Leonard has found a new way to stay relevant. There is ample evidence to support all three. Djibouti is an immensely talky book. The first half or so consists of Dara and Xavier at parties and aboard boats, hobnobbing with all sorts of colorful characters. And while dialogue remains one of Leonard’s strengths, you’ll want to tear your hair out waiting for something to happen. Of course, when things do start happening the pace quickens tremendously and Djibouti becomes as exciting as anything Leonard has ever written.


The catalyst for the change is the novel’s expanding focus on Jama Raisuli (nee James Russell). Originally introduced as a rogue among rogues, Raisuli emerges by the end of the novel not only as its primary villain (no easy feat given Harry’s fondness for arms dealing and bounty hunting behind a civilized veneer), but as one of the most nefarious characters in the author’s entire repertoire. Leonard’s bad guys are often ruthless or sleazy, but none seem as committed to self-preservation and as indifferent to human life as the American jihadist. Perhaps this is the author’s way of reminding us that terrorists are not ordinary criminals.


Unfortunately, the rest of the cast isn’t as magnetic. It’s not that Leonard’s characters aren’t interesting; it’s that this is a book full of supporting players and no real lead for the reader to identify with. Despite being at the center of the action, Dara’s characterization is thin. We don’t get nearly enough about what drives her to make her an effective protagonist. Xavier is closer to an actual hero, but he is too frequently shoved out of focus to serve in that capacity, either.


Djibouti is too uneven and too underdeveloped to rate among Leonard’s best, but the exotic setting, memorable ensemble, and latter-half pace and plotting make it a worthy read.


7.5/10

Van Loi Restaurant II

Located at 3829D High Point Road, Van Loi Restaurant II offers a variety of Vietnamese dishes and Chinese barbecue. The restaurant is open from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. six days a week (it closes on Tuesdays), and takeout is available.


When it comes to Vietnamese dining, Greensboro offers plenty of options. With gentle-sounding music and nicely appointed interiors, establishments like Pho Hien Vuong and Vietnamese Garden offer a pleasant dining experience. But if all you care about is getting the most authentic food, then Van Loi is the way to go. Located in a slightly shady strip mall off Farmington Road, it is unlikely to attract the business lunch crowd – or much of a crowd at all. I went there at 5:30 p.m. on Thursday and was the only customer. The white-and-green interior is Spartan, and at least a half-dozen Heineken-and-pho posters adorn the walls.

What Van Loi lacks in ambience, it makes up for in menu variety. In addition to the standard soups, noodle bowls, and rice dishes, you can get BBQ duck or make your own spring rolls. There are also enough dishes featuring random pig parts (brains, blood, etc.) to give Anthony Bourdain a run for his money.


Eschewing the exotic, I opted for a grilled pork-and-egg roll vermicelli bowl. The meat was suspiciously red, though quite tasty and not undercooked. The incorporation of mint was a nice touch, but on the whole, the dish wasn’t markedly better than it was at any of Van Loi’s more Westernized competitors.

Pricing at Van Loi is higher than the rudimentary interior design suggests. Nothing here is unreasonable – my entree was $8 and you can feed yourself for under $10 – but again, it is comparable to the competition. A family-owned restaurant, Van Loi employs minimal staff. This isn’t a problem due to the aforementioned emptiness, but I wouldn’t want to be there on a busy day.

The diversity of the menu makes Van Loi worth at least a second visit, and a sampling of some of the Chinese BBQ items might lead to a reappraisal. But for now, “authenticity” isn’t enough to put Van Loi ahead of Greensboro’s more appealing Vietnamese establishments.

7/10

Full Dark, No Stars

Released in 2010, this collection of four Stephen King novellas revolves around everyday folks tapping into their darkest hidden impulses. In “1922”, resentful husband Wilfred James conspires to murder his wife Arlette after she threatens to sell some inherited farmland. “Big Driver” finds a writer of genteel mystery novels plotting revenge on the malicious motorist who raped her. Dave Streeter, the cancer-ridden protagonist of “Fair Extension” makes a deal with the devil to live longer by transferring his misfortune onto someone else. And in “A Good Marriage,” suburban housewife Darcy Anderson discovers that her bland accountant husband is harboring a terrible secret.


Though better known for his sprawling novels, Stephen King has had remarkable success with the novella over the years. The Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me, and Secret Window all began as King novellas, and the more succinct format curbs the worst of his digressive tendencies. While Full Dark, No Stars isn’t on par with Different Seasons, it’s a pretty good showcase for the best – and the worst – that King is capable of.


“1922” illustrates both extremes. Here, King leaves behind his favored contemporary New England settings in order to give us the Midwest of yesteryear. He does so convincingly: the early chapters of Wilf’s narration feature some sharp diction. But by the end, he sounds all too much like King himself, even referring to the Reader (minus the Dear). Similarly, the epistolary format works when it allows us to see the frightening development of Wilf’s accomplice/son, Henry, through a father’s eyes, but fails spectacularly when trying to narrate information Wilf wasn’t present for. The given explanation (psychic rats told him) is preposterous enough to debase the whole novella. All and all, “1922” reads like A Simple Plan with a more interesting setting and unwanted supernatural baggage.



“Big Driver” offers a different set of strengths and weaknesses. The title is inane, and the rape/revenge plot is overly simplistic and crude. However, the postmodern touches ensure that this rises above genre conventions. The victim, Tess, watches thrillers and begins to think like (or, sometimes, in contrast to) her detective characters. The titular antagonist, while guilty of monstrous acts, isn’t a soulless Michael Myers or even a Norman Daniels (the notoriously misogynistic and nigh-unstoppable villain of King’s Rose Madder), but rather a visible local with a business and a family – complications Tess must take into account when plotting her revenge. The gimmick of having Tess hold conversations with imaginary others (her cat, her main character, etc.) is tired, but nearly plausible given the trauma of her situation. The ending will seem unsatisfactory to some, but like the rest of the novella, it forces both reader and character alike to think beyond popularized conceptions of revenge and make difficult decisions.


On the other hand, “Fair Extension” takes postmodern self-referencing even further, but it doesn’t work nearly as well. George Elvid, the sinister “extension salesman,” defines the kind of devil he is by informing Streeter of the kind of devil he isn’t: he doesn’t want your soul, he won’t keep upping the cost on you, he doesn’t have horns, etc. This is supposed to make him realistic and therefore more terrifying, but it cuts into his menace considerably. What is terrifying is the litany of misfortunes (spouse’s death, business failure, children’s injuries, etc.) a jealous Streeter brings upon his more successful best friend in exchange for being able to live longer and the utter lack of remorse he shows for it. The protagonists of the other novellas at least seem to realize they are crossing lines and going to dark places. Streeter seems blissfully – and disturbingly – unaware.


With “A Good Marriage,” King offers his take on Dennis Rader, the BTK Killer who was also an upstanding citizen. Specifically, he explores how someone can go through more than a quarter century married to a monster without even realizing it. The tension is excellent, the Rader stand-in is magnificently deluded, and plenty of moral boundaries are pushed. Only the pat ending and the implausible forensics mar this otherwise jolting tale.


Taken as a whole, Full Dark, No Stars has ups and downs but delivers more times than not. In the coming years, it will be interesting to see which of the novellas breakout (ala Shawshank) and which are condemned to obscurity.

7.75/10