GLASS CHIN, dir. Noah Bushell
Bud Gordon (Corey Stoll) was once a big-time boxer, fighting title bouts at Madison Square Garden, but times have changed. He put all of his money into a failed New Jersey eatery (dubbed “Bud’s”), and he doesn’t have the training/skills to get a decent job, putting the financial burden on his girlfriend, Ellen (Marin Ireland). He mostly spends his days jogging around the neighborhood with his dog, Silly, taking shit for his magnificent fifth-round fall in his last bout, which everyone attributes to his “glass chin” (his inability to take a punch).
Two opportunities enter his life almost on top of one another. A hotshot young gun named Kid Sunshine (Malcolm Xavier) is training for a major fight, and wants Bud to coach him. At the same time, an old gangster buddy, J.J. (Billy Crudup), offers him a job as an enforcer with the added perk of re-opening “Bud’s” in Manhattan, complete with Bud as full partner. Bud figures he can squeeze both in; by the time “Bud’s” opens, the fight will have been long over, and he can devote himself full time to his new venture. But of course, as in all these movies, what looks too good to be true inevitably is, and Bud finds himself knee-deep in a serious moral dilemma that will undoubtedly leave him bruised no matter the outcome.
With its evocative New York/New Jersey locations, its stylized, occasionally snappy dialogue, and long, relaxed takes, its firmly rooted in the traditions of noir, and its plotline has obvious overlaps with ON THE WATERFRONT. Still, it doesn’t feel like old hat. Director Noah Buschel has a very specific, deliberate style that brings just enough to the table to warrant giving this age-old story a dustoff. The drawn-out takes sometimes give it the immediacy of a play, but the compositions, cinematography, and blocking are precise, evocative, and cinematic. A simple dialogue scene between Bud and Ellen as they lay in bed together goes on for quite a long time, but the scene is bathed in red and there’s just enough action to keep it interesting while the camera stays completely still. The tough-guy monologues and showdowns have moments that hold for longer than you’d expect, creating a realistic awkwardness that make you believe the stakes as opposed to blowing it all off as a joke. There are funny narrative touches, such as J.J.’s affinity for modern art and the “semper-fi” gung-ho-ness of Bud’s mob associate (Yul Vasquez), but it never overwhelms the feeling of sad defeat that permeates the film.
Aside from creating a certain vibe, the lengthy takes also give the actors a ton of time to shine. Corey Stoll is in every scene of the film, so a lot of the film rests on his shoulders, but the increasingly impressive character actor holds the movie together and makes it look easy. Other than on THE STRAIN, this is his first onscreen leading man gig, and he gives a subtle, lived-in performance that makes Bud inherently likable and empathetic. Characters keep telling Bud how “smart” he is (thought they probably want to add “for a boxer”), and despite how easily he deludes himself with larger-than-life promises and his own whitewashed memories (which relate to the “glass chin” of the title), Stoll’s natural, confident intelligence makes us understand why he has this rep.
The supporting characters in Bud’s story are played by a strong gallery of obviously stage-savvy actors. Ireland’s Ellen is tougher and more real than your average suffering girlfriend character, somehow seeming like she has all the hand even though she’s with a huge dude who beat up other huge dudes for a living. Kelly Lynch shows up as a sympathetic moll, so sexy in her mid-50s that no one (onscreen or in the audience) questions why the younger male characters lust after her so. Vasquez has to bridge that fine line between funny and scary, and the character actor (whom I will always remember for his lisping bully on SEINFELD) does so while adding dimensions that distinguish him from the usual underground bruiser; an Iraq vet and former ace sniper, Vasquez’ Roberto is a guy who stopped taking objective morality seriously a long time ago, and his threats end up coming off more like sincere pleas to follow his demands than demonstrations of force. I wouldn’t have pegged Crudup for the shiny-suited heavy type, but he’s obviously having a great time playing the kind of colorful, eccentric part he probably doesn’t get offered too often. J.J.’s another character for whom blackmail and violence are just business as usual, and Crudup plays him with the cool detachment of a poker player with a permanent ace up his sleeve. There’s also a surprise appearance by David Johansen as an indebted boxing fan; it’s his first screen appearance in over a decade, and it’s interesting to see the actor/singer (formerly known as Buster Poindexter and the lead vocalist for the New York Dolls) more weathered and restrained than the gravel-voiced wild man from stuff like SCROOGED and TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE.
Ultimately, Buschel’s film doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it’s not trying to; he knows this is a story you’ve seen before, and that you can probably guess the outcome way earlier than Bud does. Still, this isn’t a case of “style over substance.” The style is the substance. The patient way Buschel and D.P. Ryan Samul’s camera tells his story, and the freedom it gives his actors to inject nuance and humanity into their characters, is what gives this movie its charge and identity. Corey Stoll proves he’s not only got potential as a leading man, but that, based on the strength of his earlier performances, we should’ve probably figured that out by now. For fans of the noir genre, films with a theatrical vibe, or of Stoll’s work, I’d say GLASS CHIN is worth a look-see.
GLASS CHIN opens today in select theaters and VOD.
