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Homeboy
Lionsgate Home Entertainment // R // September 1, 2009
List Price: $14.98 [Buy now and save at Amazon]
The Film:
Homeboy is little more than an Eric Clapton-infused remix of Rocky, with Mickey Rourke lacing up the gloves as the actor/writer double punch that Sly Stallone made famous. Naturally, copycats were like to come along after Rocky's success, gaining even more steam after Martin Scorsese's starkly different Raging Bull earned recognition only four short years after the Italian Stallion took home several honors. What we've got here is cinematographer Michael Sererin's only directorial feature, a largely visual and poetically minimalistic sports drama that opts to linger when it should lunge.
Oddly, Homeboy will also sound strangely familiar to another more recent Mickey Rourke vehicle -- just replace tights and shoulder-length bleached hair for a leaner build, a pair of boxing shorts, and an odd facial disposition. It follows Johnny Walker, an aging boxer who (surprise, surprise) drinks too much before his matches and suffers from a physical issue that keeps him from performing at the top of his game. After an "impressive" fight with his opponent, impressive being a rather generous descriptor, a cutthroat entrepreneurial promoter named Wesley Pendergrass (Christopher Walken) hooks up with him after the bout -- garnering quick friendship with the cowboy.
From the start, the structure makes little effort in hiding its regurgitated plot elements. A poor fighter, a even poorer trainer, and a down-on-her-luck love interest named Ruby (Debbie Fruer ) for the boxer become the steam pushing Homeboy along, with the girl becoming an inspiration for him to continue pressing forward in times where he feels alone and unable to fight. Their romance is a straight by-product of the Adrianne / Rocky dynamic, though they try and shake the attitude up a little bit in making an aggressor out of the girl. It's more of the same indecisiveness about their relationship, ultimately scraping together in the 11th hour to pump Johnny full of vigor so he can get in the ring and earn a lump sum for their future. Our final bout, of course, builds into the fruition from a labored training session, yet you're not going to snap your fingers or tap your feet to overzealous '70s-'80s kitsch.
To lessen our alertness to its influences, Homeboy opts to go light on tradition blow-by-blow action and rely on a more tranquil blend of poetic cinematography and tons of emotional, Clapton-rich tunes. The decision to rely so heavily on them overextends Johnny's story to nearly two-hours of loosely-edited "sporting life" imagery and undernourished dialogue, taking us through his hazy rough-and-tumble fights in a fashion that plays out in a style mimicking that of sedate arthouse-like stillness. And it almost succeeds, charmingly capturing elements like a practice sparring session and several heartfelt conversations between the eternally-awkward Johnny and his small cluster of friends.
Only the relationship he shares with Wesley claims much originality in the script, and it's easily the weakest note in Homeboy. Not to slight Christopher Walken who, admittedly, proves the theory that featuring him in a film almost instantly heightens whatever sense of contentment had been established with the picture -- whether it be dreck or delight. However, Wesley counterbalances against Johnny in an odd fashion, acting as both a friend and idol to the simplistic boxer. Johnny's straightforwardness is easily his most compelling trait, which makes it a shame when Wesley flip-flops between sincere amiability and manipulation. He also adds a pointless heist subplot that detracts from the overall steadfast direction of the picture.
Homeboy all boils down to the performances projected against the core of its well-drawn aesthetics, namely Mickey Rourke as Johnny Walker, and they're less than satisfying against its overwrought yet ravishing artistic qualities. Rourke dishes out an acceptable turn as a down-and-out boxer -- giving Johnny almost a mentally-challenged vibe as he stumbles and sways with his cowboy swagger -- but it's nothing really all that notable. The scrunched look on his face gives him a little character, trying to compensate where his scant dialogue lacks. His interactions with love interest Ruby (Debbie Fruer) are cute but pretty trite and formulaic, mounting to a very foreseeable conclusion that speaks to the true triumph of love and passion against the odds. It's all simply too familiar and reeks too much of the carbon from a copy press to earn itself much distinction, simply going through the motions as a wishy-washy sports drama that'll only remind you of better films, both old and new.
The DVD:
Video and Audio:
Homeboy offers a fairly rich visual experience, something kept healthy through Lionsgate's 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer. Gale Tattersall's photography looks rather good here and, mostly, extremely fresh with lively colors and accurate skin tones. Some sequences can showcase a little too much of the slightly tan-baked coloring from age, while some noticeable points of digital noise ink into the picture here and there. However, minor details -- like etching into wood horses, damage to Johnny's helmet, and the like -- preserve fine lines and strong textures. Lionsgate has given this a pretty pleasing treatment, well contrasted and satisfyingly saturated.
Audio comes in a Dolby 2.0 Stereo track that, though not dynamic, supports the musical elements of the film rather well. Dialogue gets a little on the muffled side in more than a handful of patches, while the entirety of the boxing sound effects fall with a pretty flat thud throughout. Optional English and Spanish Subtitles are available.
Special Features:
All we've got are a line-up of Lionsgate Trailers for other products.
Final Thoughts:
In a cinematic world where Rocky or Raging Bull didn't exist, Homeboy might be considered to be a bit better than it does as a mirror image. We've also got The Wrestler now, which gathers up everything non-Rocky about Homeboy -- such as the necessity to fight for income and renown, and, well Mickey Rourke -- and tells it in a much more charismatic, empathizing fashion. Still, the cinematography and music infused within a gracefully-shot rendition of the poor fighter narrative won't be a bad Rental in the long-run -- with expectations tempered to the idea that it'll feel very, very familiar in almost every single way. Kind of like Orca.
Thomas Spurlin, Staff Reviewer -- DVDTalk Reviews | Personal Blog/Site
 |
Oddly, Homeboy will also sound strangely familiar to another more recent Mickey Rourke vehicle -- just replace tights and shoulder-length bleached hair for a leaner build, a pair of boxing shorts, and an odd facial disposition. It follows Johnny Walker, an aging boxer who (surprise, surprise) drinks too much before his matches and suffers from a physical issue that keeps him from performing at the top of his game. After an "impressive" fight with his opponent, impressive being a rather generous descriptor, a cutthroat entrepreneurial promoter named Wesley Pendergrass (Christopher Walken) hooks up with him after the bout -- garnering quick friendship with the cowboy.
From the start, the structure makes little effort in hiding its regurgitated plot elements. A poor fighter, a even poorer trainer, and a down-on-her-luck love interest named Ruby (Debbie Fruer ) for the boxer become the steam pushing Homeboy along, with the girl becoming an inspiration for him to continue pressing forward in times where he feels alone and unable to fight. Their romance is a straight by-product of the Adrianne / Rocky dynamic, though they try and shake the attitude up a little bit in making an aggressor out of the girl. It's more of the same indecisiveness about their relationship, ultimately scraping together in the 11th hour to pump Johnny full of vigor so he can get in the ring and earn a lump sum for their future. Our final bout, of course, builds into the fruition from a labored training session, yet you're not going to snap your fingers or tap your feet to overzealous '70s-'80s kitsch.
To lessen our alertness to its influences, Homeboy opts to go light on tradition blow-by-blow action and rely on a more tranquil blend of poetic cinematography and tons of emotional, Clapton-rich tunes. The decision to rely so heavily on them overextends Johnny's story to nearly two-hours of loosely-edited "sporting life" imagery and undernourished dialogue, taking us through his hazy rough-and-tumble fights in a fashion that plays out in a style mimicking that of sedate arthouse-like stillness. And it almost succeeds, charmingly capturing elements like a practice sparring session and several heartfelt conversations between the eternally-awkward Johnny and his small cluster of friends. Only the relationship he shares with Wesley claims much originality in the script, and it's easily the weakest note in Homeboy. Not to slight Christopher Walken who, admittedly, proves the theory that featuring him in a film almost instantly heightens whatever sense of contentment had been established with the picture -- whether it be dreck or delight. However, Wesley counterbalances against Johnny in an odd fashion, acting as both a friend and idol to the simplistic boxer. Johnny's straightforwardness is easily his most compelling trait, which makes it a shame when Wesley flip-flops between sincere amiability and manipulation. He also adds a pointless heist subplot that detracts from the overall steadfast direction of the picture.
Homeboy all boils down to the performances projected against the core of its well-drawn aesthetics, namely Mickey Rourke as Johnny Walker, and they're less than satisfying against its overwrought yet ravishing artistic qualities. Rourke dishes out an acceptable turn as a down-and-out boxer -- giving Johnny almost a mentally-challenged vibe as he stumbles and sways with his cowboy swagger -- but it's nothing really all that notable. The scrunched look on his face gives him a little character, trying to compensate where his scant dialogue lacks. His interactions with love interest Ruby (Debbie Fruer) are cute but pretty trite and formulaic, mounting to a very foreseeable conclusion that speaks to the true triumph of love and passion against the odds. It's all simply too familiar and reeks too much of the carbon from a copy press to earn itself much distinction, simply going through the motions as a wishy-washy sports drama that'll only remind you of better films, both old and new.
The DVD:
 |  |
Video and Audio:
Homeboy offers a fairly rich visual experience, something kept healthy through Lionsgate's 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer. Gale Tattersall's photography looks rather good here and, mostly, extremely fresh with lively colors and accurate skin tones. Some sequences can showcase a little too much of the slightly tan-baked coloring from age, while some noticeable points of digital noise ink into the picture here and there. However, minor details -- like etching into wood horses, damage to Johnny's helmet, and the like -- preserve fine lines and strong textures. Lionsgate has given this a pretty pleasing treatment, well contrasted and satisfyingly saturated.
Audio comes in a Dolby 2.0 Stereo track that, though not dynamic, supports the musical elements of the film rather well. Dialogue gets a little on the muffled side in more than a handful of patches, while the entirety of the boxing sound effects fall with a pretty flat thud throughout. Optional English and Spanish Subtitles are available.
Special Features:
All we've got are a line-up of Lionsgate Trailers for other products.
Final Thoughts:
In a cinematic world where Rocky or Raging Bull didn't exist, Homeboy might be considered to be a bit better than it does as a mirror image. We've also got The Wrestler now, which gathers up everything non-Rocky about Homeboy -- such as the necessity to fight for income and renown, and, well Mickey Rourke -- and tells it in a much more charismatic, empathizing fashion. Still, the cinematography and music infused within a gracefully-shot rendition of the poor fighter narrative won't be a bad Rental in the long-run -- with expectations tempered to the idea that it'll feel very, very familiar in almost every single way. Kind of like Orca.
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