Analysis: Prizefighter: The Life of Jem Belcher (2022) & The Problem with Sports Biopics

While it’s based on compelling historical material, Prizefighter: The Life of Jem Belcher offers a good example of what not to do in a sports biopic…

The Historical Context

Prizefighter is based on the life of English fighter Jem Belcher (1781 to 1811), who rose from humble roots to become Champion of All England. Grandson of renowned fighter Jack Slack (a.k.a. the ‘Norfolk butcher’), the dashing and elegant Belcher became much revered in high society before an injury to his eye forced him out of the ring. He later made a comeback, most notably to fight a former protégé and title challenger Henry Pearce (charmingly nicknamed the ‘Bristol game-chicken’) over 18 gruelling rounds. Belcher lived hard and died young. He was also fighting at a time of change for boxing as it moved away from its bare-knuckle, no holds barred style and adopted rules (brought in by fighter Jack Broughton), including the introduction of rudimentary boxing gloves, which were designed to improve safety.

The Dramatization

Directed by Daniel Graham and written by Matt Hookings (who also stars as Belcher), Prizefighter comes across as a beloved pet project. However, it unfortunately gets stuck on the ropes pretty early in proceedings. It opens with a way too long section in which young, fatherless Belcher gets led astray by his heavy-drinking, cock-fight loving grandfather Jack Slack (Russell Crowe), while his poor mother (Slack’s daughter), played by Jodhi May, wrings her hands, while repeatedly mumbling ‘stay away from my boy’ to her errant dad. What we are meant to take from all this is that Belcher’s childhood idolisation of his drunken grandfather stimulated an interest in boxing and taught him to stand up for himself. However, this section doesn’t add any real context or useful background to the story that couldn’t have been included in a concise scene or a couple of lines of dialogue.

Now, a cynic might suggest that the inclusion of Slack and the early years scenes were simply a way to shoehorn big-name star Crowe on to the film poster and to use his brief presence to lure the film’s funders. Indeed, spoiler alert, the fictional Slack doesn’t make it out of Act One, predictably succumbing to alcoholism, allowing for a tearful deathbed scene with Belcher. To be fair, he does stick around longer than the real-life Slack, who died in 1768, a full 13 years before Belcher was born. This is one of the historical liberties the filmmakers take with Prizefighter. These inaccuracies alone aren’t the problem. Adapting history is always a necessary part of bringing real life to the screen.

With Slack down and out, the ‘gruff mentor with a heart and an endless supply of pseudo-philosophical life lessons’ torch is quickly passed to the reliable hands of Ray Winstone as Belcher’s trainer Bill Warr. Their paths cross when Warr watches Belcher fight a chap about three times his size, and win. The trainer realises that Belcher has something special about him, setting the course for the young man’s short life. He quickly finds himself in London, fighting in front of nobility (following the obligatory training montage, of course), beguiling the spectators with his good looks and stylish moves. Belcher subsequently gets seduced by the fame, money and status that come with being a champion and his downfall starts, until he nearly loses an eye. He then, somewhat inexplicably, gets thrown in jail, where he meets insightful old lag Walter (Steven Berkoff) – isn’t there always one in movie jail? Eventually, Belcher gets a second chance and the final act is mostly concerned with his comeback fight against young upstart Henry Pearce.

Analysis

It’s always frustrating when a fact-based film doesn’t do justice to its compelling source material but this is what we have with Prizefighter, which has no depth, heart, engagement or real conflict. While it’s a little unfair to draw comparisons, two classic boxing films highlight why Prizefighter fails.

Rocky (1976)

Ostensibly fictional (although there are parallels with the career of real-life New Jersey fighter Chuck Wapner), Rocky is about a downtrodden Philadelphia boxer Rocky Balboa who gets an unlikely shot at fighting the heavyweight champ, Apollo Creed. By the end of Act One, Rocky has accepted the fight; Act Two involves the challenges of preparing for the fight (as well as Rocky wooing Adrian in the romantic subplot); and Act Three is mostly the slug-fest fight with Creed. It’s a straightforward plot with a defined end point. However, the film poses twin questions:

1. Can Rocky win the fight? (i.e. his physical ‘want’)

2. Can Rocky regain his self-respect? (i.e. his emotional ‘need’)

The two questions are interrelated. Rocky arcs as a character, with the Apollo Creed fight the conduit for his emotional development. While writer and star Sylvester Stallone used the world of boxing as a backdrop to his film, his ‘going the distance’ message transcends the sport to offer a deeper life lesson.

Raging Bull (1980)

Martin Scorsese’s classic film tells of gifted but self-destructive middleweight fighter Jake LaMotta, played by Oscar-winner Robert De Niro. The black & white film is bookended by scenes of LaMotta in his later years, overweight and alone, eking out a sad living retelling stories of his glory days at a cheesy club. Between these scenes, we see young, lean LaMotta rising through the ranks, supported by his brother Joey (Joe Pesci). While the poetic boxing scenes are elegantly choreographed (some say the best ever committed to film), it’s the idea of self-punishment that we are meant to take from LaMotta’s time in the ring, as much as his fighting prowess. The meaning of Raging Bull has been much-explored, but for this discussion, the point is that to dismiss it as a ‘boxing film’ is missing the point that Scorsese was making.

In both cases, the sport is the vessel through which the character’s inner struggles are made manifest. Just as Stallone uses boxing as a backdrop for his ‘little guy takes on the champ’ story of resurrection, Scorsese uses the life of LaMotta to bring us the character-driven story of a troubled soul, a violent and unpredictable man who destroys everything good in his life and ends up a pathetic and tragic figure.

The one word to take away from these films is: characterisation.

We care about the character, which makes us care about him in and out of the ring, which makes us care about the story and its outcome. The test is the ending. It doesn’t matter that – spoilers – Rocky loses the physical fight. He wins the inner fight that really matters and he leaves the ring facing a brighter future. On the other hand, LaMotta is a car crash character; we’re merely spectators watching through our fingers as he drives his emotional car into the wall. He could win every bout by knockout but he’s lost the inner war.

Prizefighter

Unfortunately, when it comes to all these elements, Prizefighter is out for the count. Insufficiently deep or probing to be a character study and lacking any authentic conflict, there is nothing at stake professionally or personally for Belcher. What there is instead is a series of boxing film clichés, wafer-thin characters, and a lack of narrative momentum. Belcher wins, gets carried away with his success, and finally gets back in the ring to slug it out with the game-chicken. Because the filmmakers stripped out all narrative interest and characterisation…

…the film relies on its ‘real-life inspired’ origins and the visceral boxing scenes to do all the dramatic heavy lifting, which is never a good sign.

As such, there are lots of interesting questions left unaddressed, any one, or combination, of which might have offered a compelling ‘hook’ for the story. For example:

What happened to Belcher’s father, and how did this impact Belcher’s life?
What was his true motivation to fight?
What compelled him to get back in the ring, even though he was essentially blind in one eye?
Why did he come to such a tragic, premature end aged just 30? (This is handled as a mere footnote in the film.)

A further example of the film’s weakness is the final act showdown. The filmmakers chose to focus on Belcher’s big, if unwise, comeback fight with young Henry Pearce as the Act Three centrepiece. In Rocky, the Apollo Creed fight comes up pretty early in the story, providing the central narrative thread and dramatic momentum. However, here, the Pearce fight is dropped in from nowhere. This means we don’t really get to appreciate the importance or care about the outcome. We also don’t get to know much about Pearce, even though we are meant to discern a significant history between the men.

So, what should have been a rousing, highly-anticipated ‘phoenix from the ashes’ moment of near-glory for our protagonist becomes two bland English blokes exchanging blows until one just about prevails.

This is all the more frustrating given how the sport of boxing was changing during the period in which Belcher was fighting. Other than Belcher being forced to glove-up before the Pearce fight, there is no wider context for how these rules impacted fighters or set up the lucrative, regulated sport that we know today. Instead, much of Act Two is taken up by pointless scenes of Belcher larking around with ridiculous London toffs at god-awful parties (which we know are hedonistic due to the topless women serving drinks and indiscriminate shagging) – until Belcher’s mum shows up from Bristol to ruin the fun.

Raging Bull or Rocky it is not…

Conclusion

Boxing makes a great ‘allegory of life’ setting for a film. Done well, raw action in the ring can mirror a character’s inner struggle. However, two fighters slugging it out is just that, unless there is a deeper emotional connection to at least one of the guys (or girls) getting pummelled.

The overall takeaways are:

1. Without characterisation, there is no emotional heart.

2. Without narrative focus, there is no dramatic thrust.

3. Exciting sports scenes should complement not dominate a good sports film.

4. Compelling historical material only works on film if it’s developed into a compelling screen story.

5. The hallmark of a successful sports film is that a non-fan of the sport can still enjoy the story and root for the protagonist.

Go further:

**Take a look at the Prizefighter trailer:**

Prizefighter: The Life of Jem Belcher (2022) is available on Amazon Prime in the UK (with a subscription or 30-day free trial)

More real-life boxing films to enjoy:

Here are a couple more fact-based films that successfully use pugilism as the backdrop to satisfying drama:

The Fighter (2010): Directed by David O. Russell, this powerful film was inspired by the documentary High on Crack Street: Lost Lives in Lowell (1995). It focusses on the career of ‘Irish’ Micky Ward and his journey to winning the world light welterweight title. However, the emotional drama comes from his troubled home-life, including his relationship with his drug-addicted half-brother Dicky Eklund, himself a once successful fighter. Take a look at the trailer:

The Bleeder (a.k.a. Chuck) (2016): Referenced above, this engaging film tells of The Bayonne Bleeder, Chuck Wapner, a small town hero who gets a shot at the heavyweight title (sound familiar?). What makes this film a fun watch is the irreverent tone, use of real-life footage, and engaging central performance by Liev Schreiber as the self-destructive boxer who finds some level of redemption. The film is a cacophony of 70s kitsch, singalong soundtrack and visceral fight scenes. However, it is Wapner and his emotional journey that remain the main event. Take a look at the trailer:

The Fact-Based Screenplay