Giant

In his prime, British-Yemeni boxer ‘Prince’ Naseem Hamed was larger than life, known for his over-the-top entrances and unorthodox style. His flair, flamboyance and cocky arrogance is brought to authentic life by the perfectly cast Amir El-Masry in writer-director Rowan Athale’s aptly titled Giant, which focuses on Hamed’s relationship with the Irish boxing trainer who discovered him, Brendan Ingle (Pierce Brosnan). But frustratingly, the nuance is only one-sided, to the detriment of the overall film.

Giant initially comes out of its corner with a lot of energy. We track a young Hamed from his humble Sheffield beginnings — Hamed is played as a child by Ali Saleh and as a pre-teen by Ghaith Saleh, both excellent — to talented but boastful boxer with satisfying brevity. And attention is rightly paid to how Ingle instructed Hamed to use the rampant racism and Islamophobia of ’80s and ’90s Britain to fuel his competitive fire.

But as Hamed rises to boxing champion and accrues more fame and wealth, his relationship with Ingle becomes increasingly strained, eventually reaching a breaking point over issues of money and acknowledgement.It’s here that the focus of the film shifts to the increasingly embittered Ingle. Brosnan acquits himself especially well in the moments where his coach struggles to hide how hurt he is by the rift with his star athlete. But while he gets a lot to work with — we get to see Ingle’s home life and relationships outside of boxing — El-Masry is left with only crumbs as Hamed is sidelined. The shade and subtlety is granted to only one party, which contributes to the sense that the truth is far more complex than the version of the story we’re watching. The “Giant” of the title is not Hamed, but Ingle. It’s a strange, frustrating decision.

None of this is helped by the truncated boxing sequences. El-Masry looks good in the ring, but the bouts are largely devoid of the scale and flash that would complement its subject. Part of this may be down to the film’s budget, but these scenes lack the appropriate cinematic flourish, with big moments ending up feeling amateurish and cheap. And whether it’s a tell-all book that’s briefly mentioned or a tribute that’s relegated to the end credits, you get the sense that a more interesting, less straightforward movie exists in the margins instead of on screen.