The Boxer

Despite a healthy homegrown film industry in the ‘50s and ‘60s, Japan became beholden to Hollywood imports during the blockbuster years of the 1970s. With Jaws topping the box-office in 1976, struggling Toei studios adopted a “if-you-can’t-beat-em-join-em” mentality and drew inspiration from Rocky to produce its own version of an underdog fighter training his way to the top. 1977’s The Boxer might have begun life riding the coattails of the Italian Stallion but director Shuji Terayama ensures there’s enough originality here to go the full ten rounds.

Tetsuo Tenma (Kentaro Shimizu) is a club-footed wannabe who’s reached a personal low. Responsible for the accidental death of a co-worker, who just so happened to be the fiancé of the women he loved, his boxing career is going nowhere when he petitions Terayama (Bunta Sugawara), the brother of the man he killed, to train him. The unlikely duo win a few matches and set their sights on the Rookie of the Year match. But the psychological struggle might be more to overcome than the physical one.

The Boxer uses only the most basic structure of Rocky to tell its story, one that focuses more on survival outside of the ring than on the canvas. A legendary figure in Japanese cinema, Bunta Sugawara doesn’t need to do much to sell himself as a broken-down ex-champion; every scrape and scar practically screams legitimacy (no disrespect to Burgess Meredith). While the frightened and soulful eyes of Shimizu capture a generational depth of desperation that goes far beyond sports metaphors.

Director Terayama, whose professional interests included literature, radio and photography before segueing into film, has an obvious affection for the sport, but never lets it overwhelm the narrative. The opening scene, one long uninterrupted take down a hallway as bruised and beaten fighters pass by, is in the same poetically gritty wheelhouse as Scorsese’s Raging Bull. But unlike that film’s single-minded brutality, The Boxer offers some hope, surrounding its characters with eccentric cheerleaders who prove that it’s not just one man against the world…sometimes it takes a village.

Radiance’s limited-edition Blu-ray doesn’t mention any sort of restoration, but the film looks terrific regardless. Extras include an interview with composer J.A. Seaver and a short but sweet visual essay from Tom Mes on the state of Toei studios at the time of release. New English subtitles, a reversible sleeve and collector’s booklet wrap things up.