Pacquiao’s
childhood was everything you would expect, except even more desperately poor.
When children his age should have been in elementary school, he worked what
jobs he could find and went without meals, so his mother and sisters could eat.
Somehow fate delivered him into a boxing ring, where the scrawny kid ploughed
through the considerably larger competition. Soon, the only place left for him
to find fights was America. Again fate guided him to Freddie Roach’s gym, where
the trainer and pugilist immediately clicked. He was not so fortunate with his
early management, but that has to be the oldest story in boxing.
Presumably,
it would take something special to get Gast to return to ring, having already
won an Oscar for When We Were Kings,
considered by many the definitive boxing doc (though we’re obviously still
partial to Klitschko), but it is easy
to see what drew him to Pacquiao. The boxing congressman has at least two
fights in 2011 worthy of Rocky II, one
that he won but probably should have lost, and one that he lost but really
should have won. Naturally, these bouts constitute a good portion of the film’s
third act.
Such
times would try many a man’s soul, but the glue holding together Pacquiao and
his documentary profile is his devout Catholic faith. His sincerity comes
through clearly and it is impressive. It might not be on their radar, but Manny is a film Catholic and Evangelical
audiences should adopt.
