Southpaw is not a film about sports and personal glory through sporting achievement. Southpaw is about how we engage with the complicated sport of life. It is about the techniques we deploy to achieve victory and avoid being knocked on our asses, and the blind spots that keep us thinking those techniques work even when they threaten to destroy everything. It concerns itself not with the aforementioned personal glory in beating the snot out of someone, but with issues relating to grief and emotional intelligence. I don’t remember the last time I saw so many men crying in one film (and often not about themselves!). While the generic structure of a sports film still holds it together, leading many to describe it as hackneyed, there are many ways in which it undermines traditional macho ideological tropes and refutes the hollow victories of the genre.