This film boasts a impressive cast, telling the true story of coach Ingle, who guided a brash Yorkshire teenager from Middle Eastern migrant parents. Dubbed “Prince” Naseem Hamed, the fighter was coached to confront racist bullies and molded into a media-friendly titleholder in the 1990s. The trainer nurtured his flamboyant confidence and powerful punches, but after becoming rich, the boxer turned against his coach, excluding him and turning him into a blend of Falstaff and Broadway Danny Rose.
Brosnan portrays Ingle; Amir El-Masry embodies the part of Hamed, and Toby Stephens appears as the assertive London promoter Frank Warren, who recognized the goldmine that Ingle had discovered.
However, the movie frankly lacks the fighter’s agility: the boxing sequences flow well, but the crucial story in between is consistently flat and monotonous. It lacks nuance or contrast in the portrayal of the protagonist himself, and El-Masry, an otherwise outstanding performer, isn’t given the opportunity to display any subtlety or much of what might make his character truly engaging – although he’s obviously been working out and looks very plausible in the ring.
The drama is repeatedly lumbered with functional, explanatory lines that inform you precisely what is going on and what we are meant to feel (“You started your boxing journey at seven years old …”). This is the kind of dialogue that digital producers call “double-screen”, making sure you know what’s going on while you’re viewing the film but also checking your phone. Additionally, the background music is overpowering, sometimes almost overwhelming, especially in the moment where Hamed gets overexcited visiting the promoter in his luxurious home.
Although El-Masry and Brosnan do their very best, their relationship never really comes to life, and the big set-piece fight scenes are frequently anticlimactically truncated. A key moment is certainly when, provoked beyond endurance in the gym one day by Hamed as a misguided “elder”, the trainer in fact proposes to get in the ring and fight him. All present in the gym is stunned and uneasy. How exactly is this extremely unwise standoff going to unfold? How precisely the outcome? Certainly the Prince is going to kill him? Or will he sentimentally pull his punches? The resolution remains ambiguous.
This isn’t to imply that there aren’t some good moments. The actor elicits humor when Ingle informs a reporter what he’s instructing the kids from his neighborhood: to oppose prejudice and when you encounter a paedophile, “Hit them in the groin”. It’s funny too when Hamed fidgets at the ridiculous antics Ingle makes him do in the early days: posing as the “beast from the Middle East”.
Regarding the falling out, the film depicts this as being exacerbated by a revealing book that the trainer is allegedly written (a story element clearly modified from another source), and there is an interestingly imagined final conversation – although the heartfelt homage that the boxer is reportedly paid to his mentor after his passing is merely mentioned in the closing credits, and not dramatised on film. There is interesting material here, but the punches fail to connect.
Giant was shown at the London film festival and is in British and Irish theaters from January 9.
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