Remiel

Raging Bull

Most American films are written, directed, produced by, and star: men. They are intended for men, and explore male values. Even “women’s” films are merely targeted at a demographic… still made by men; made to make money.

All of this must be ignored when watching Raging Bull. Yes, you’ve seen this before: the unlikely boxing underdog struggling against the odds. You’ve seen Robert De Niro be the taciturn tough guy. You’ve seen Italian husbands yell at their Italian wives. You’ve seen “boxing movies” and, for that matter, “sports movies”.

But you must forget all that when watching Raging Bull. Cleanse your palette and take this movie in with fresh eyes. 

Foremost, Raging Bull is about masculinity. It’s not a celebration of masculinity (like most Hollywood films), nor a complete indictment of it. De Niro and Scorsese (who went uncredited as co-writers), labored obsessively over the character of boxer Jake LaMotta, and it shows.

LaMotta embodies every male contradiction in the book: strong but abusive, committed but unfaithful, ambitious but paranoid. Cocky, but deeply insecure. Since the insecurity is what fuels those contradictions (in all of us, arguably), it is that flaw which functions as the lynchpin of the narrative. LaMotta can never be happy, and never be wise, because he will always hate himself more than he loves his achievements.

Filmed up close, in black and white, with little spectacle (aside from the crushing boxing scenes), the movie is just as important today as it was in 1980. Like its protagonist, it’s hard to like at times (LaMotta’s no Rocky, and that’s the point), but it is riveting, painful, and beautiful.