In this dysfunctional Lowell, Mass., family full of children with different last names, Mark Wahlberg is Micky, whose hardscrabble life is filled with missed opportunities as he tries to please his trashy, peroxided, chain-smoking motormouth mother, Alice, who acts as his manager (another scenery-chewing, scene-stealing performance by Melissa Leo in high-heel white boots and big hair the size of a hornet nest); and his borderline-retarded crackhead half-brother, Dickie (Christian Bale), who acts as his trainer. There is also a girlfriend named Charlene (Amy Adams)--a tough, sexy, no-nonsense bartender who battles his relatives to stand by her man and save him from his family of demented lowlifes.

The story begins in 1993, when Micky is already over the hill and Dickie is still clinging to his one moment of glory in the ring--the night he scored a knockdown in a losing fight against Sugar Ray Leonard. Micky is loyal to Dickie, but every time he has a bout, they have to drag the trainer out of a crack den. Dickie is so deluded he thinks HBO is following him around making a movie about his own "comeback," but they're really only filming a cautionary documentary about what drug addiction can do to American youth. Factored into the equation are at least five or six sisters (in one scene, I'm sure I counted seven!) who come and go like comic caricatures, resembling a Carol Burnett skit about the Macbeth witches entering show business. (A real David O. Russell example of uncontrolled excess that is fortunately missing from the rest of the film.) With Charlene guiding and supporting him and Dickie behind bars, Micky finally dumps his mother, reshapes his career and starts to focus. After a win at Caesar's Palace, when sports commentators were writing his obit, Micky finally gets a chance for a title bout in London. What happens after Dickie gets out of prison with new teeth and new plans provides fireworks.

The genealogy is baffling. It is never clear why they're all called Eklund except Micky, who is a Ward, even though some of the siblings who are younger than he are called Eklund, too. That bimbo mother apparently really got around. With serrated voices, ratty hair and a passion for beer and processed junk food, they're a perfect illustration of the stuff blue-collar white folks in the Boston suburbs crave--but not the upscale kind. These walking nightmares have never seen a Billy Wilder movie, tasted sushi, listened to National Public Radio or had a flu shot. They are easily satirized and obvious fodder for actors with tattoos.

And still, the cast is never less than hypnotic. Mark Wahlberg is both dopey and endearing as the Muscle McGurk with a good heart trying to run away from a crazy, sadistic family of control freaks and a dead-end future. Christian Bale returns to the way he looked as the emaciated, sleep-deprived zombie he played in The Mechanic, like the ghoulish, skeletal Dachau survivors when the Allies liberated the death camps in 1945. Once again, he gives his all for his art in a memorable but repellent performance that reminded me of the painful, grimaced faces in the paintings of George Grosz. All of the actors' voices disappear into boiled-cabbage Boston accents that are astoundingly accurate (especially Amy Adams, eras removed from the nice cookbook author-housewife in Julie and Julia). These are characters so repulsive that it's hard to care what happens to them, but it's to the credit of a superb cast that you do end up caring. At the end, The Fighter shows a clip of the real Micky and Dickie, and all bets are off. As close to a circus sideshow as it sometimes seems, this art not only imitates life, but mirrors it creepily.

rreed@observer.com

THE FIGHTER
Running time 115 minutes
Written by Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, and Eric Johnson
Directed by David O. Russell
Starring Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Melissa Leo, Amy Adams

3/4

We have to hand it to Christian Bale. For as long as we could remember, he was always a conundrum: a brilliant actor that seemed to actively sabotage his stardom by appearing in mostly limited-appeal dreck. Then, something fascinating happened: Caught up in the wave of counterintuitive superhero casting choices—you can thank Tobey Maguire for this—Mr. Bale wound up starring as Batman and vaulting onto the A-list. Only he wasn’t just front and center in Batman Begins; the film surrounded him with a load of talented, big-name actors (Liam Neeson, Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine). And while we have no proof of this—though if Mr. Bale wants to send us a message on Facebook, he’s more than welcome to—it seems that the experience on Batman Begins gave the cantankerous star a new blueprint for how to manage his career: never star alone.

We thought of this after seeing the news that Mr. Bale has signed on to star opposite Mark Wahlberg in The Fighter, from director David O. Russell. If this project sounds familiar, it’s because for the last few years it was in the hands of Darren Aronofsky, with Brad Pitt attached to star alongside Mr. Wahlberg. Matt Damon was involved, too. But they all dropped by the wayside, leaving the role to Mr. Bale. It’s the second film in the last few weeks that he has agreed to do with Mr. Wahlberg: The two will be seen together in Bryan Singer’s The Prisoners. Of course, both of these films will come on the heels of Mr. Bale’s dual appearances this summer in Terminator Salvation, with a load of giant killer robots, and Public Enemies, with Johnny Depp. Are you seeing a pattern yet?

Sure, he’s the biggest name in Terminator Salvation, but that movie is being sold on the franchise and not Mr. Bale’s star wattage. Hell, the name “John Connor” carries more weight for the fans of Terminator than “Christian Bale” does anyway. Meanwhile, in the trailer for Public Enemies, he is barely shown, taking a backseat to Mr. Depp (that Mr. Depp has become the biggest movie star in the world is a story for another day). Even in his post–Batman Begins roles, Mr. Bale used this strategy: He co-starred with Hugh Jackman in The Prestige and with Russell Crowe in 3:10 to Yuma.

In the end, the plan is quite genius. If the movie fails, he’s mentioned but never forced to take full brunt of the damage; if it succeeds, he gets credit for being sturdy and reliable. For an actor who once seemed adrift on his way toward movie stardom, Mr. Bale has found a comfortable resting place. Now if he can only get through a shoot with David O. Russell without the two of them murdering a craft services employee, everything will be fine.