Film Review: “Bruised” Degrades Low-Income People for Clout
What is it with glamorous actors playing low-income people like creatures from a different plane of existence instead of humans with wants and needs? Amy Adams did it as the drug-riddled mother in Hillbilly Elegy, Gabourey Sidibe did it as the struggling teen mom in Precious, and Dev Patel did it as the rags to riches protagonist in Slumdog Millionaire. Perhaps these actors genuinely believe that they are doing something profound by donning baggy clothes, going makeup-free, and angrily spewing every other line. But what they are doing is exploiting low-income people’s plight to garner sympathy from its audience, particularly its affluent (white) audience. Movie buffs call this unrealistic depiction “poverty porn.” And it is a trope that is very prevalent during award season. Unfortunately, Halle Berry dives headfirst into degrading poor people for clout as both director and star with her new feature film Bruised. Though Berry provides some solid moments with her first directorial debut, her tonally bleak sports drama falters due to its stereotypical portrayal of people trying to survive the bottom of the economic ladder.
Set in Newark, Bruised follows Jackie, a.k.a. “Pretty Bull” (Halle Berry), a washed-up UFC fighter, as she fights physically and mentally to return to the octagon. After losing her job as a house cleaner, Jackie’s abusive partner and manager Desi (Adan Canto) manipulates her into participating in an unsanctioned fight for easy cash. Though Jackie initially refused to fight, the attendees goad her into a brawl against an opponent twice her size. Surprisingly for Jackie and the toxic male audience in the room, the former UFC fighter brutally beats the woman. Consequently, this match gains the attention of league owner Immaculate (Shamier Anderson), who connects Jackie with his top trainer Bobbi, a Buddhist who goes by “Buddhakan” (Sheila Atim), to help her get back into fighting form.
Unfortunately, Jackie’s joy does not last when her drug addict mother, Angel (Adriane Lenox), unexpectedly drops off the fighter’s estranged young son Manny (Danny Boyd Jr) at her doorsteps. Due to the death of his loving father, Manny needs to live with his mother or risk going to child services. So, with her back against the metaphorical steel cage, Jackie must prepare for her big fight against champion Lucia the “Lady Killer” (Valentina Shevchenko), figure out how to provide for her son, and build a better future for herself.
The film’s portrayal of poverty proves that Hollywood still struggles with writing about marginalized groups. Writer Michelle Rosenfarb and director Berry reveal their ineptitude in the breakfast scene with Jackie and her dysfunctional family. As Desi tells the fighter that they cannot take care of Manny, the young child enters the kitchen with only a blanket over his head and a pair of underwear covering his bottom. So ever the noxious father figure, Desi directs his partner to make the boy a hamburger patty. This scene, shot well with a handheld camera by Berry, shows Jackie cooking a single burnt hamburger patty – with no seasoning. There is no way to deny that Jackie is in over her head as a new parent. However, watching a caregiver, whether she is rich or poor, feed a child a hamburger patty (again, with no seasoning) for breakfast is nonsensical. And it is depressing that Rosenfarb did not use this scene to show how Jackie can step up as a mother. Instead, she uses the moment to pander to audiences who think poor people are uncivilized slobs, which is not the case.
Great sports movies are aspirational at their core, no matter how formulaic they are. Films like Creed and Fighting with My Family work thanks to their ability to encourage audiences to root for charismatic characters even though they are flawed. Viewers cheer when Adonis punches UK boxer Ricky in his final match in Creed because his journey to becoming a pro boxer is exhilarating to watch. And they fist pump when Saraya earns her place as a WWE Superstar in Fighting with My Family because her love for the sport, and by extension her family, is relatable. Ultimately, people enjoy watching athletes achieve incredible feats in these films as they see themselves in them. And it inspires them to pursue great things too. Like when The Hunger Games, a post-apocalyptic action feature with sports elements, inspired young girls to try archery.
Sadly, Bruised is nowhere near as ambitious as the previously mentioned films since people cannot see themselves in these characters, nor do they want to. Though Berry has a good grasp on filming fight choreography and training montages, the brutality Jackie faces is tough to watch. The first hour of its runtime focuses on Desi abusing Jackie and Manny, while the second half shows Angel repeatedly criticizing her daughter for her poor parenting skills. It is baffling that Berry and Rosenfarb force their viewers to watch these acts of violence. Perhaps they genuinely believe that the only way to get people to care about a poor Black woman from Newark is to make her struggle. However, this decision achieves the opposite since it reinforces how people of a particular class think of poor people.
Unlike Adonis and Paige, it is difficult to root for Jackie since she is passive. She lets everything happen to her rather than lead her narrative. The film depicts this when Bobbi first meets Jackie in her office. As Bobbi sizes Jackie up, the first thing the trainer asks the aging fighter is, “Well, you had your 15 minutes of fame. Why are you here?” Instead of answering the question with conviction, she avoids eye contact and shrugs. A better writer may use this scene to reveal Jackie’s innermost desires. But due to the terrible writing, Jackie just looks deflated. And because Berry has little to work with in terms of the script, her acting choices feel cliché. She spends most of the film grunting, staring into the void, and angrily pointing her finger near people’s faces.
One of the few bright spots in Bruised is Atim’s performance as Bobbi. The actor delivers more warmth and sincerity to her role than all the actors in the sports drama combined. Not only does the film give the actor’s character an intriguing backstory (Bobbi is a recovering alcoholic who practices mindful meditation), but Atim’s acting choices are full of layers. Watching Atim share the screen with veteran actor Berry is comforting as she is one of the few performers not screaming her lines. Instead, she delivers them with quiet intensity. Tragically, Bobby’s performance nor her character’s story can save the film from being a wreck.
It is great to see two women write and direct a sports film. And the all-female-led soundtrack that features artists such as City Girls and Saweetie is a nice touch. However, the film’s depiction of people who live at or below the poverty line rings false. In short, Bruised is a bad movie. Unless you want something to yell at for two hours, it is best not to watch this film.
