Southpaw review: Jake Gyllenhaal bulks up for a heavyweight performance

Director: Antoine Fuqua; Screenwriter: Kurt Sutter; Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Rachel McAdams, Oona Laurence, Naomie Harris, Forest Whitaker, 50 Cent, Rita Ora; Running time: 124 mins; Certificate: 15

Jake Gyllenhaal brings considerable heft to a boxing drama that's a little soft in places and stuffed full of the usual clichés by director Antoine Fuqua (who has yet to match his 2001 hit Training Day). Even the fighter's name, Billy Hope, is a little too on-the-nose in trying to push a credo about resilience in the face of adversity. The star, who packed on the pounds for this role, shoulders the burden with grace.

Hope is, without a shadow of a doubt, a good guy, although he is an animal when his blood is up - a Beast, as described by the lyrics of the rap track he listens to before a big fight. True to the hip-hop culture (Eminem was once attached to star and contributes one track, 'Phenomenal'), he's also quite ostentatious; splashing the cash on a big mansion, fast cars and expensive watches for his crew. Rachel McAdams is the grounding force as his wife (brassy though she is) and mother to his little girl Leila (the precociously sombre Oona Laurence).

Inevitably, the man who seems to have it all loses everything after one moment of uncontrolled rage that leads to a fatal shooting - goaded into extracurricular fisticuffs by trash-talking rival Escobar (Miguel Gomez). His so-called friend and manager, played by a typically dead-eyed 50 Cent makes himself scarce after that. Which is a good thing, at least where the film is concerned; it makes room for a proper actor, Forest Whitaker, to engage in some verbal sparring with Gyllenhaal. He essentially plays Burgess Meredith from Rocky, who reluctantly agrees to mentor Hope back to the big time.

Of course coach is also amateur psychologist, urging Hope to ditch his open-stanced, anger-fuelled style with a more controlled, protective approach and that means the training sessions nicely illustrate his emotional - as well as physical - healing. They also inform his evolving relationship with Leila, who goes from idolising daddy to hating him when she's taken into care (Naomie Harris, her sympathetic social worker). The father-daughter bond is the surprise element to an otherwise predictable underdog tale and the dynamic between Gyllenhaal and Laurence feels natural.

Fuqua tends to amplify the melodrama - with music and lingering close-ups - and especially towards the end, but the film never quite socks you in the gut the way it should. A fundamental problem with Kurt Sutter's script (graduating from TV series Sons of Anarchy and The Shield) is that he - and by extension, Hope - never attempts to identify the gunman who (after pulling the trigger in a very public place) has left him forever changed. The lack of investigation just doesn't make sense and the culminating bout for the middleweight title is a roundabout way of trying to level the scales. Here, redemption comes without justice.

Fuqua tends to amplify the melodrama - with music and lingering close-ups - and especially towards the end, but the film never quite socks you in the gut the way it should.

Landing a good punch offers some satisfaction though and Gyllenhaal gives a good account of himself in that regard as well, cutting an imposing figure in the ring. Fuqua is unusually restrained, using few stylistic flourishes (POV shots and slow-motion) and carefully choosing his moments to zoom in between the ropes. For the most part he sticks with a familiar view of the ring - as seen on PPV TV - and throws his weight behind the family drama. In all it may not leave a lasting impact, but it's a significant notch on Gyllenhaal's belt.