Antoine Fuqua's "Southpaw" is a riveting film that takes the boxing film genre and investigates the rags to riches narrative from a different light. He is not just dealing with a story of overcoming adversity through determination and hard work; he is also exploring human's evolution from his instinctive, animalistic nature to his more rational and mature state. While the film stumbles in some of its narrative structure, it convincingly showcases this rise of its main character convincingly through a marriage of wonderful performances and unique visual choices.

(Be prepared for PLOT SPOILERS, which abound in this review)

"Southpaw" starts with an image that almost reminds one of a zoo. Billy Hope (Jake Gyllenhaal) sits on a table and plugs into headphones while other characters bandage his arms and hands and others take measurements on him. Throughout, he is motionless and even when his wife Maureen (Rachel McAdams) enters the fray and gives him a parting hug and kiss, he remains motionless.

When the film initiates, Hope is on top of the world, about to claim the lightweight title of the world, living with a beautiful wife and daughter in a massive mansion, and holding on to an unbeaten record.

Nothing can seemingly go wrong. Except everything is wrong. After winning the title using a battling style so feral that even his wife scolds him, the viewer observes a lengthy sequence in which Maureen's power over his life is highlighted.

During a scene with his daughter, Maureen orders him out of the room (in a kind manner of course), telling him to get out of her "daughter's room." In the ensuing scene, the two bicker over whether Hope should take on another major contract or not. Maureen is decisive in her desire that he take a lengthy break and her presence is felt throughout. They start the scene framed together, but as the discussion heats up, Billy walks away. Her coverage remains a tight close-up, making her appear large in the frame. On his reverse, Fuqua showcases a wide shot with Billy relegated to right frame; on the left frame is a mirror with Maureen ever present. As the scene comes to an end, the two reconcile to Maureen's wishes and prepare for intercourse. Maureen is on top of course, further exerting her dominance.

In a latter scene, a nervous Billy frets about giving a speech at a banquet. Maureen calms him down and gives him confidence. During that speech, the audience recognizes Billy's poor way with words, his instinct taking over. Of course he concludes the speech with further demonstration of his reliance on his wife.

Fuqua never makes Maureen a negative character despite her control over her husband's life and his inability to survive without her. Instead, there is a sense of her strength as providing the foundation for his life and keeping him from imploding at any moment. In fact, McAdams' performance is filled with charm and confidence, a stark contrast to Gyllenhaal's initial embodiment of Billy.

However, those limits are always tested and at some point, the pet turns into a beast in the correct context. When that happens, even the trainer cannot contain him. In Billy's case, his unleashing of his inner monster in the wrong situation leads to his wife's demise. Unable to cope with her loss, he suffers a series of "falls." He stumbles in his ensuing fight, letting his rival pound him into submission until his temper boils over and he pounds a referee. In an ensuing scene, Billy is found alone in the shower, slouched over on the floor. He crashes his car in a moment of desperation and in the ensuing image his daughter (a vulnerable, scene-stealing Oona Laurence) finds him on the floor; that the camera's perspective is from the top of the stairs only emphasizes the fall that Billy has endured.

From there he loses everything, including his home and his daughter. He is as destitute as he started prior to the initiation of the story (he was once an orphan) and his daughter is now in danger of enduring the same fate.

It is at this moment that Billy finally starts his transformation from instinctive animal (throughout his depression he never seems to consider his daughter as he takes on dangerous action after another) to a rational man in control of his own destiny. The moment is highlighted visually in one striking image.

After Billy enters Titus Wills' gym, he finds himself at the bottom of the stairs -- he walks up, a symbol of his coming redemption. Images of Billy's "upward" mobility remain tantamount through the second half of the film, escalating in his climactic Southpaw punch, a vicious uppercut.

Billy's relationship with Titus forces him to check his other behaviors. The inarticulate Billy struggles to stop swearing at the start of their relationship; by the end of the film, there are no signs of that vulgar speech. He walks out of a bar after throwing a chair around, but comes back apologizing moments alter. He rejects a job to clean the gym out of pride, but then realizes that it is best for him. He starts looking out for other characters. 

Even his fighting style undergoes a change from that of a predator who supposedly grows stronger the more he gets punched into Titus' "chess master."

His eye wounds, which are so prominent in the early part of the movie, slowly disappear in the second half.

Jake Gyllenhaal is dominant in the role, perfectly encapsulating this transformation. At the start, he remains a rather quiet and shy presence, his attempts at speech coming off as a series of unintelligible grunts. His body is slumped over a bit at times, suggesting his vulnerability. By the end, Billy stands adroitly, Gyllenhaal's voice filled with clarity and confidence.

The transformation is often executed through montage, a tool that could become unimaginative when overused. In this case, Fuqua pushes his luck, seemingly using montage to jump ahead in the storyline a number of times. It is not overly intrusive, but certainly comes off as predictable by its final iteration - a sequence that intercuts between the training of Hope and his title match rival Miguel Escobar.

It is perhaps at this moment that the film seems to lose its drive, reverting to the usual genre conventions. Hope, despite being at the bottom of the barrel, suddenly has a chance to win back his title because of his performance at a charity event. He makes amends with his daughter, preps for the fight through the montage (thus killing off six weeks of story time) and before we know it he is back in the ring. What happens thereafter should not be much of a surprise, but what stands out most from the ending is how the alteration in the protagonist is explored.

No longer a caged animal, Hope interacts with those around him, embracing them and rewarding them for their loyalty. In the final moment of the film, he stands up, no longer on the floor or sitting, and holds his daughter while security guards force cameramen and reporters outside of his room. He is no longer just an attraction to be observed, but a human in control of his own destiny.