My Favorite Scene: Warrior

Warning: Critical plot details will be divulged in this post. The ending to Warrior will be spoiled.

Warrior was a tricky film for me. My initial review spoke to the pleasure I had in watching it, but made no mention of its current status as a contemporary classic that I’ll never forget. And there’s a simple reason why: back then, I liked Warrior, now, I’m forever indebted to it. It’s a brutal, mainstream work of art equipped with a heart larger than most any five films put together.

Looking back, neither the film nor any of its performances popped up on my end of the year lists, which I find astonishing. If I drafted my top films of 2011 today, Warrior would be in the Top 5, no question. It’s a perfect movie with a flawless, heartbreaking ending, which is what I’d like to talk about today.

A note to the detractors: is it improbable that estranged brothers Brendan (Joel Edgerton) and Tommy (Tom Hardy) would make it into the same MMA tournament, beat all of their respective opponents, and face each other in the ring for a massive winner-takes-all purse? Sure, but who gives a shit. While not necessarily a very subtle metaphor, the brothers’ final bout has nothing to do with mixed martial arts. This is the culmination of years of hatred and oppression. And I simply cannot think of a better, more moving way for it to play out.

I’m not a sports commentator, and honestly find little interest in dishing out a blow-by-blow in print, so instead of dictating Brendan and Tommy’s epic showdown, I’ll attempt to cut to the heart of it.

The two enter the fight with Tommy the clear aggressor. He has dominated each of his opponents in the tournament quickly and remorselessly, and by the time he’s standing toe-to-toe with the brother he hates, he’s ready to rage. But shortly into the third round, Brendan dislocates Tommy’s left arm, and the fight is all but over. Except it’s not. Tommy hasn’t had enough yet.

Filled with decades of angst brought on by an abusive, alcoholic father, and capped by caretaking for a dying mother many years ago, Tommy stands in his corner antagonizing a reluctant Brendan to finish what he started. When the next round begins, Brendan hesitantly centers in the ring and gives Tommy the beating of his life. Brendan works the shoulder, hooking and jabbing at it again and again. And again. Brendan’s faithful wife averts her eyes, as the boys’ father observes in horror.

The real beauty of this scene occurs when this round ends. Brendan slowly makes his way to his corner, as Tommy cries from his side of the ring. Mark Isham’s beautiful music slowly transforms into a revelatory rendition The National’s “About Today” (which, according to director Gavin O’Connor, is the song that chiefly inspired this film), and then it happens. Brendan locks eyes with his father, and the two share one of the most publicly intimate moments I’ve witnessed in recent cinema.

It’s a stare of a son telling his father, “You did this,” and a father telling his son, “Yes, I know, and I’m forever sorry.”

The final round commences, “About Today” pounds away, and before long, Brendan locks Tommy up in a way that forces Tommy to tap out and lose the fight. But Tommy’s tap out isn’t brought on from excruciating pain. He taps because he’s tired. Tired of spending his life hating his brother, his father, and himself. I don’t see it as Tommy giving up, but rather, starting new. He’s accepting that much of his life has been shit, and now’s the time to let someone in. Someone who’ll literally pick him up and carry him home.

I’d like to end there but I can’t. I can’t end this analysis without highlighting its most important aspect. Yes, the scene soars because of the collective efforts of Edgerton, Hardy, The National, and O’Connor, but its emotional anchor is rooted in the swollen, weathered face of Nick Nolte. Paddy Conlon isn’t simply watching his oldest son carry his youngest child to peace, he’s accepting the resolve. With a slight look of astonishment that shifts to subtle sadness and finally to insurmountable appreciation, I think Paddy understands that he may never speak to either of his sons again, but at least he’s responsible for bringing them together. So what does he do? Smiles to himself, shakes his head in contentment, and tips his hat. But tips it to who? His boys? The God he so warmly believes in? Nah. I like to think he’s tipping it to himself. Job well done, Paddy. For the first time in a long time, your boys are going to be all right. Job well done indeed.

Previous installments of My Favorite Scene include:

8 Mile
Babel
Brokeback Mountain
Crash
Deliverance
Fargo
The Godfather
The Godfather Part II
GoodFellas
He Got Game
House of Games
Hustle & Flow
Inception
Inglourious Basterds
Insomnia
Jackie Brown
Leaving Las Vegas
Philadelphia
Platoon
Pulp Fiction
Raging Bull
Redbelt
The Rules of Attraction
Se7en
Sleepers
Three Kings
the Films of Tony Scott

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