Horror classics continue to suffer the indignity of needless remakes with The Last House on the Left being another victim. It's as if someone thought that the original would benefit from polishing when, in fact, it was its very roughness that made it so damn good. James Toback's fascination with Mike Tyson continues with the eponymous (and excellent) documentary Tyson. I still think that Toback is seeing things that aren't entirely there, though, with respect to Iron Mike. I can still remember seeing The Last Starfighter as a kid visiting my aunt in sleepy Lake Charles, Louisiana. The CGI animation looks fairly awful now, but I loved, loved, loved that movie way back when. And my childhood crush on Catherine Mary Stewart has barely faded with time.
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With nothing more than his fists and black trunks, Mike was able to, in his words, "win all the championships." With nothing more than Mike's stories filled with brutal honesty, a couple of HD cameras and footage of "Iron Mike" both in and out of the ring, Tyson has won over critics, festival committees (Regard Knockout Award winner at Cannes in 2008) and fans alike.
For a certain generation (I'll call them the "Mike Tyson Punch Out!" generation), there has always been a strange fascination with the now-humbled pugilist. It's those people -- myself included -- who will be lining up to see James Toback's very well-reviewed documentary, Tyson. Those in need of a gooey validation of the human spirit, on the other hand, will be seeing The Soloist. Downey is obviously a huge draw these days (see Kiss Kiss Bang Bang if you haven't already), but I agree with Ken Turan that Joe Wright should have dialed back the sentimentality. Fighting looks terrible. Probably only suitable for those obsessed with Channing Tatum's abs.
