In the great unfolding of the universe, it was, in to-day’s parlance “no big thing;” but, to me, it was a simple moment that I will never forget, at the beginning of what was looking like a very difficult day here in Cannes.

It was early morning, around 7:00 a.m., I had a dreadful hangover and was deeply concerned as to how I would manage the day’s scheduled meetings. It was Miptv in 1976.

I was staying at the Montfleury Hotel which was, as far as I was concerned, inconveniently located in the hills of Cannes, some significant distance from the Palais and its “action.” And because of my debilitating condition I resolved to put on my jogging outfit and run to the Majestic and back in the hope that such activity would bring my elevator up – somewhat.

Entrance to the Majestic Hotel.

Upon reaching the Majestic (walking by the way) I moved through the lobby from the back to the front entrance. Once outside the revolving doors, I noted with disgust two apparently robust competitors of mine returning from a run of some kind engaged in earnest discussion. I really have to ease up on the drinking I thought. As I stood off to the side, feeling ill and dispirited, I heard a cheerful voice say “Good morning champ.” Upon turning, I saw that the pleasant salutation had come from the former Heavyweight Champion of the World – Muhammed Ali! He was and still is an imposing figure but, at this particular point in time, he looked like a God come to earth.

Muhammad Ali knocking out Sonny Liston.

Dressed in casual but neat dressy clothes, he was killing time waiting for a breakfast partner to show up. He had a warm and welcoming smile on his face and began, easily, to comment upon the weather, Cannes, etc. while I tried to appreciate the wonderful charisma of this handsome man. And somehow this spontaneous chat turned into a short stroll down the near-deserted Croisette. I can’t remember much of what was said because it was the kind of meaningless chatter that occurs between strangers – particularly if one is in awe of the other.

I am one of the dwindling few who still regards boxing as a great sport but recognize that, these days, it is generally seen as barely one notch above dog fighting. (not an original observation – credit to my very good friend Paul Hunt) While I always admired Lennox Lewis and as a boy I revered the great Joe Louis, I believe that when all is accounted for Muhammed Ali (formerly known as Cassius Clay) is the greatest heavyweight champion of all time.

This may seem quaint to-day but there was a time when being the heavyweight champ meant you were probably sitting at the apex of all the celebrity lists! And Ali, for so many reasons; his fighting ability, his clear intelligence, his political courage, etc. landed him, undisputedly, in the position of being the most admired man in the Western world.

Muhammad Ali receiving Presidential Medal of Freedom.

He was in Cannes that April to help publicize a woeful film about slavery, starring himself. Blessedly, it seems not to have been made.

So, on this particular morning, he was all smiles and good will and spent a few minutes talking to a stranger who was fighting his own demons, called him “champ” and, in so doing turned that stranger’s day around.

The movie, almost of course, is “Raging Bull,” the Martin Scorsese masterpiece with a brilliant Robert de Niro, but I also would like to include “The Harder They Fall” – Humphrey Bogart’s last movie, written by Budd Schulberg of “On the Waterfront” fame and directed by Mark Robson.

Movie Review:

Raging Bull

Directed by Martin Scorcese — MGM 1980
Starring: Robert DeNiro, Joe Pescia, Cathy Moriarity

The horrendously violent “Raging Bull” appears consistently on various critics’ lists of “best ever” – and, as far as I’m concerned, very deservedly.

But it has been a source of some mystification to me as well. I have always asked myself – “What is it about?”

Raging Bull is a particularly violent movie about a particularly violent sport.

I grew up a fight fan and am old enough to remember listening on radio to Don Dunphy’s blow-by-blow accounts from Madison Square Garden of at least some of Jake La Motta’s famous and brutal fights. In my mind La Motta was a “bruiser” – tough; but not in the same league as my idol, the smooth and handsome Sugar Ray Robinson. (if there is a flaw in “Raging Bull,” it is that the casting of Sugar Ray failed to do him justice) But this only begins to be really important if the movie is really about Jake La Motta. Vincent Canby wrote in The New York Times on November 14, 1980:

I missed the boat when it came to a conscious understanding of its meaning either because I’m too thick or because, as a boxing fan, I actually did think it was about La Motta and, in so doing, marveled at its depiction of the period, the fight game itself and its savage recreations of youthful memories.

The screen recreations of the famous fights are exciting and vicious.

However, with the help of multiple viewings, critical commentaries like Vincent Canby’s and, most of all, the opportunity to spend a delicious afternoon, a decade or so ago, with the owlish, petite and prolific poet and novelist – Joyce Carol Oates, I finally began to understand the movie, I think. I was directing a television portrait of her in her home just beyond Princeton University where she, as far as I know, still teaches. Most of our conversation centered upon her then recently published nonfiction book entitled “On Boxing.” Among her observations,

De Niro’s characterization of the furious “Bronx Bull” is stupendous, and in it, we see a man struggling with his sense and idea of masculinity as well as being a creature of his time and place (New York in the 1940’s) who is paralyzed with fear; while showing none.

On every count “Raging Bull” is a “must-see” movie because it demonstrates excellence at each level of the complex art of the motion picture – from its black and white photography to its academy-award winning editing while on the acting side of the camera we are treated with the introduction of two stellar newcomers: Cathy Moriarity as Jake’s abused wife and the volatile Joe Pescia as his brother.(Pescia has gone on to become a charter member of the Scorsese/De Niro repertory company)

Happier times in home movies — the only color in the film.

But it is La Motta’s titanic and enraged struggle with the universal truth that being a human being is very often a deeply uncomfortable experience that marks it indelibly!

To use Canadian poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen’s words, Jake La Motta, in “Raging Bull” is caught up in “the trenches of his own life” and, as a result, this life is a war – with no prisoners being taken. While I felt this theme engaging my spirit, I didn’t recognize it and it is this idea, I think, that renders the violent, no holds barred “Raging Bull” into the cinematic masterpiece that it is!

Jim Thompson, the “roman noir” writer of the 40’s and the 50’s, puts it this way in “After Dark, My Sweet”:

Is this Jake La Motta in “Raging Bull”? I think so; but his recognition of this terrifying idea comes wrapped in a deadly and explosive anger that ultimately engulfs all – and leaves him utterly alone – a fat drunk left to cry out in his anguish and despair that “I am not an animal – I’m not a bad person”. And, of course, he isn’t; he’s just one of us!

Final scenes as MC at strip club (DeNiro famously gained 50lbs for the conclusion of this film).

Truly a great movie; and one that is more than standing the test of time.

Other boxing movies:

“The Harder They Fall” – starring Humphrey Bogart in his last role, written by Budd Schulberg and based on the true story of Primo Carnera, an Argentine giant who could not box but was set up to take a terrible fall!

“Cinderella Man” – starring Russell Crowe; the true story of James J Braddock a Fighter who won the Heavyweight Championship in the ‘30’s – an ok movie with superb performances.