Starring: Russell Crowe (I), Renée Zellweger, Craig Bierko

7 out of 10: In SeaBoxer, Russell Crowe plays Jim Braddock, a man who fought his way to the top of the boxing world and inspired a nation beset with the woes of the Great Depression. Braddock became a symbol for America in the mid `30s and this film, subtitled CinderellaBiscuit, is based upon his true life story.

Much like another movie two years back, where a racehorse became a symbol for destitute people attempting to survive in pre-WWII America, SeaBoxer appeals to the underdog in all of us. Director Ron Howard manages not to push the point as hard as Gary Ross's 2003 equestrian effort, resulting in a better, less maudlin film; it's still plagued, however, by the overall ordinariness of the venture.

Perhaps another reason Seaboxer has the upper-hand is because its protagonist can talk.

That protagonist is played by the great Russell Crowe and he's worth whatever they have to pay him (and whatever they have to put up with). Crowe doesn't carry the movie as much as he carries himself through it. There's an odd integrity about what Russell Crowe does; a sense of the real that he's able to impart as he stares into the black void of the camera. One scene, where Braddock returns to the gambling den of the boxing promoters and begs for money for his heating bill, is surprisingly touching and the actor dissolves into the moment, leaving us momentarily trying to remember just who the heck this really good actor is playing Braddock.

Gary Ross, cinematographer John Schwartzman and crew gave Seabiscuit a glossy, fairy-tale sheen. This was the Depression, where even the hobo rags looked freshly stitched. Ron Howard's Depression era is a studio backlot Great Depression; you get the feeling that just around the corner they're shooting a biopic about John Dillinger.

Howard went to such great pains to make a gritty film with the enervating The Missing that one could imagine him denying himself by not getting a sleeve on his morning latte during the shoot. Here he returns to themes of desperation and brutality. Instead of the Wild West, though, it's the inner city (well, a backlot inner city) and one can imagine him also refusing a lid on his cup, just to get in touch with that kind of hardship.

A subplot, about a hard-drinking co-worker named Mike Wilson (Paddy Considine), who tries to organize the workers down in Hooverville (tenement shelters that sprang up during the era) impresses as a junior high history lesson at best. Unlike the presence of Casy, John Carradine's wayward preacher in The Grapes of Wrath, whose ultimate fate so unnerves Henry Fonda's Tom Joad, Braddock's association with Mike amounts to little, not even as a glimpse into his alternate end had he not re-entered the ring. There's little chance of Braddock abandoning his family to lead the Wobblies, and so the film itself wobbles. Akiva Goldsman is no Nunnally Johnson.

There is, as was true with Seabiscuit, a fine supporting cast in Cinderella Man including Bruce McGill, Paul Giamatti (as Braddock's promoter, Joe Gould), and, a guy I really hope gets more acclaim, Craig Bierko, as the aggressive title holder, Max Baer.

Renee Zellweger doesn't have much more to do other than frown and worry as Braddock's long-suffering wife, Mae, in the Teresa Wright role; one thinks her character needs to be angrier at their initial poverty or more stubborn. There are children in the film as well, but they make very little impression either; that's a bit of problem since Braddock risked everything he had for them.

Much as with Seabiscuit, there are talented people behind Cinderella Man; it's a sturdy, well-crafted artifact. But one fears for its eventual success (much as with Seabiscuit), with the awards season recognizing what we collectively agree to as the "best" of the year, instead of seeing those accolades go to some of the true underdogs this year.