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The Champ was a sad film. By sad I mean heart-breaking. By heart-breaking I mean in a beautiful way. And beautiful is the word that can be used to describe the performance of Ricky Schroder as T.J., in his debut. Children in movies always tug at your heart-strings but this one shamelessly pulls at it. Not only was it a beautiful performance but it made you wish that either you could go in the film or pull T.J. out to the real world just long enough so you can hug him. His crying scene at the end, widely considered as the most saddest scene in film history, is no bull. It is real and it makes you cry as if 10 onions are being peeled all around you. It is guaranteed to move even the hardest of hearts.
The whole film, however, is a good example of mixed feelings. Sure, it is very warmly directed and evenly paced but is abrupt and rocky in some places; As if like a nice evening daily walk on the beach constantly interrupted by flying footballs. Just like an old man walking down the beach reflecting his times of sorrow, or anything that would drive him to tears, The Champ mostly focuses on that part. The emotional impact of the film is so powerful that every-time a sad scene comes up, the tears literally come in droves, and by the time the end comes up, you're probably drowning in your own-made pool of tears, or if you're watching with someone else, their's, too. Because of this heavy one-sided presentation, the building of the character is left out in the open and the main cast, bar Schroder, feels isolated and although not detached, but in a quite-different pace than the film, usually slow. Despite these setbacks, the film has an antique feel and one of the best father-son relationships in movie history; The movie equivalent of Chicken Soup For the Soul series.
Remember what I said about Jon Voight in my Mission Impossible review? I still stand by it, although not as aggressively as before, but I still stand by it. I enjoyed his chemistry with Ricky and their onscreen father-son relationship but it was his sans-T.J. moments that had me worried; He was too restricted, too puppet-like, as if several people were shouting at him off-screen to go here or go there or do this or do that. Anyway, his performance, to me, is 50-50. In some cases very good, in others very restricted. Then we have Faye Dunaway. I've heard many go like, "Dude, what does the world see in her?" Tsk, tsk, you plastic teenagers living in a plastic world run by wax models, Faye Dunaway was, and is, one of the only few candidates who actually fits the phrase "Ssssmokiinngg". Sure, in this film she is not as fiery as she was in Bonnie & Clyde or as hubris-filled in Chinatown or, should I dare say it, in her female Captain Spaulding phase in Mommie Dearest but boy oh boy, she will still expand your lower garments and have you re-arrange your position for a better expansion (hee-hee. sorry!) Her performance was also very bittersweet but since she ain't no cock-a-doodie (I'm currently reading Misery) actress, it was more "Chinatown" and less "Mommie Dearest". The rest of the cast were pretty OK, some very stereotypical, some very hard to place.
Anyway, I don't exactly love the film but the relationship in this flick is so great and the emotional impact is so titanic that it forced me to add it in my greatest movies list. OK, OK, I'm doing it, just don't punch me in the face.
8.0/10
