Because Cinderella Man reteams Russell Crowe and Ron Howard after A Beautiful Mind and because, like A Beautiful Mind, Cinderella Man is based on a real person who lives an extraordinary life, there was little doubt that Cinderella Man would deliver the tingle in the spine good movies are supposed to give the audience. My only concern was getting to the theater before I heard too much or read too much that might spoil my enjoyment. Too much praise could spoil this one - it isn’t a perfect film - just go see it.

Cinderella Man begins with a quote from Damon Runyon, who coined the nickname the Cinderella Man for James J. Braddock, that explains bluntly that no fighter’s life story is more inspiring or unlikely. There is nothing subtle about Cinderella Man. From the Runyon quote forward, the movie is punching as hard and wildly as its subject.

Cinderella Man is an old-fashioned weepie, a weepie more for men than for the ladies. This is not a boxing movie that’s really a love story, as Million Dollar Baby‘s stars relentlessly reiterated at every opportunity. Nor is it, at its best, a movie about the triumph of the human spirit, though the human spirit does triumph, and the fortunes of Jim Braddock mirror the fortunes of the country during his fighting days.

At its best, and its best is quite good, Cinderella Man is about boxing. The fight scenes are beautifully staged and shot. They are rough and bloody. Even though we know which fights Jim will win and which he will lose, I was at the edge of my seat, twitching, ducking, cheering and holding my breath. We are given a ringside seat, and though I can be very wimpy about violence, I loved the fights. So did everyone in audience. Cinderella Man is a movie to see in the theater if you groove on that feeling of hearing a bunch of strangers oooh and aaaah in the dark.

The fights are wonderful, too, because they are the scenes that, wordlessly, reflect the state of mind, body and spirit of our hero. Crowe is perfectly cast and delivers another spectacular performance as a guy who fought his way through the ups and downs of life, literally.

Cinderella Man begins in 1928. Braddock is at the top of his game as a light heavyweight. He lives comfortably, and the future looks bright. He’s successful. He’s happily married to Mae (Renee Zellweger). They have three young children. Life is good.

After establishing that life is good, we move forward to very hard times. After a series of losses in the ring, due to a string of injuries as much as anything else, Braddock’s license to box is revoked. He and the family are living in the basement of a tenement. The debts are on the rise. Braddock is only rarely chosen to get work on the docks, the only work he can find.

The first hour or so of Cinderella Man is spent establishing that Braddock is a good man who loves his family. Though this increases our affection for the hero when his luck turns, as it’s happening it is the weaker part of the movie. Zellweger’s part, especially, presents Mae as a woman devoted to her husband and kids, but without much personality.

Cinderella Man is a tale of luck and second chances. When Braddock is at his most desperate, he goes to a club where the managers and promoters hang out and begs for money to get the heat turned back on at home. His former manager Joe Gould gives him some money, and, when a fighter has to drop out of a high profile fight, Gould gets Braddock the chance to fight one last time.

Braddock is supposed to lose this fight, but he doesn’t. And from this moment on, hold on to your seats. Braddock is a different man. He’s older, smarter, tougher and more determined. Joe Gould sees this and cannot resist the temptation to try to get his old fighter and friend a legitimate second chance.

Cinderella Man shifts to the ring - the fighting and the politics of the sport - and the relationship between fighter and manager. Joe Gould is played by Paul Giamatti (Sideways, American Splendor) and his raspy voice, bulging eyes and gymnastic eyebrows have never been put to better use. The play between these two is both sharp and sweet. (I wish the screenwriters had put as much effort into the banter between husband and wife. )

But the greatest achievment of Cinderella Man happens beyond the confines of the screenplay. Crowe and Howard communicate the way Braddock’s skill, passion and complete determination are awakened by this second chance. From fight to fight we see Braddock get stronger, more cunning and tougher. He’s fighting to put milk on the table, and there is no stopping him.

The camera hangs in there with every punch. We see what’s going on behind Crowe’s eyes. Physically, Crowe goes from cocky, to downtrodden, to strong and solid. Howard doesn’t get too fancy with the camera work, but he cuts away here and there to show us how Braddock is maturing as a fighter.

The championship fight against Max Baer is the culmination of Braddock’s amazing story and the most stunning sequence in Cinderella Man. Baer is cast as quite the bad guy and played with necessary bad-guy flair by Craig Bierko.

The real proof that Jim Braddock was a good man and a great family man is found in the post-fight supertitles that tell us that Braddock did not take his second chance success for granted. He bought a house with his winnings. He lived a good and honorable life when the fight game was done with him.

People loved Jim Braddock because he was a regular working-class guy who gave them hope. As a tribute to a real working class hero and the sweet science of boxing, Cinderella Man is easy to love.