Hollywood heavyweight
Jake Gyllenhaal flexes his muscle
WHEN Jake Gyllenhaal signed on for director Antoine Fuqua’s epic boxing tale Southpaw, he knew almost nothing about the sport and wondered if he could succeed in the role.But the 34-year-old actor, who relishes exploring the complexities of masculine identity, soon realised there was more to boxing than a brutal showdown.
‘‘Boxing is about instinct – being able to react – but also being able to listen and read and respond, so it takes a great sensitivity,’’ he says. ‘‘There is a real philosophical aspect to fighting. That was surprising to me.’’
Although Fuqua’s reputation has been built on action-laden dramas (Olympus Has Fallen, The
Equaliser), Gyllenhaal confirms a more thoughtful side to the director.
‘‘As muscular as the work is – as violent as it can be – it has such a huge heart,’’ Gyllenhaal says. ‘‘He’s a lovely man.’’
Fuqua, himself a boxer, went way beyond the call of duty to take part in daily gym sessions with Gyllenhaal, who ultimately performed all his fight scenes without doubles.
Five months of gruelling training wrought an astonishing physical transformation, including gaining seven kilograms of muscle.
The metamorphosis will be even more startling for avid fans, already shocked by how Gyllenhaal hollowed himself out for his preceding role as
Nightcrawler’s coyote-like Louis Bloom – dropping 15kg to evoke the crime-scene photographer’s desperate ambition.
Today, on a bright and breezy day in Los Angeles, he is neither waif-like nor rippling.
Styled like a Streetcar-era Marlon Brando, Gyllenhaal is handsome in a white T-shirt with jeans, Wayfarer sunglasses and a full beard.
He has a broad, ready smile and appears at ease – a sensation he never really allowed himself throughout the making of this film.
‘‘I was learning a skill that I knew nothing about before I started and there was always this fear, but it became the main kind of motivator and boiler engine for this character,’’ he says.
‘‘The fear of losing, the fear of looking like a fool, the fear of losing everything he had built.’’
Southpaw is the fictional story of world light heavyweight champion Billy Hope, who crashes from a career high to a tragic low when the anger that propels him in the ring wreaks destruction on his family.
Gyllenhaal says a primary motivation for accepting the role was curiosity about his own rage.
‘‘I do [a job] to learn about life,’’ he has said in the past. ‘‘I think acting is an incredibly immature, selfish profession, but on the flipside of that, it helps you practise empathy. When you do your research, you see what people are really doing in the world.’’
Gyllenhaal’s preparation is notorious.
In addition to the tough physical training he underwent to play Hope, he conceived an elaborate backstory for the character.
He loves to create a history that will be felt by the audience, he says, launching into a long description of the meanings of Hope’s tattoos, how much money he has in his bank account, and the residual trauma of the foster care system on him and his wife Maureen (played by Rachel McAdams).
‘‘It’s like planting clues all over the place for your audience and that just has to do with a ton of research,’’ he says. ‘‘There’s no way I could just play it without creating it.’’
For a young man, he’s had a long time to hone his craft and a supportive environment in which to pursue it.
The son of director Stephen Gyllenhaal and screenwriter
Naomi Foner, and brother to actress Maggie, Gyllenhaal is steeped in the trade.
He made his film debut at 11, playing Billy Crystal’s son in City
Slickers, and secured a devoted fan base after playing an alienated teen in the cult favourite Donnie
Darko.
That was almost 15 years ago, and he has spent the time since taking challenging roles in director-driven projects, notably Brokeback Mountain, Jarhead,
End of Watch and Prisoners. In 2012, the busy actor added producing to his slate, and wowed critics with his Broadway theatre debut in Nick Payne’s
Constellations in January. Last month, he surprised everyone with his singing skills during a three-night turn in a makeshift production of Little
Shop of Horrors, which had the
New York Times declaring him ‘‘one of the few American movie stars who was also clearly meant to bea stage star’’ and everyone else wondering when he would be snapped up for a musical.
Later this year, Gyllenhaal will be seen as mountaineer Scott Fischer in Baltasar Kormakur’s
Everest – the true story of a tragic 1996 expedition that claimed eight lives – and in Jean-Marc Vallee’s
Demolition, about a banker who unravels after the death of his wife.
As with Southpaw, Gyllenhaal made an extraordinary physical commitment for Everest, shooting at high altitudes in the Dolomites, as temperatures plunged to minus 30 degrees and avalanche warnings were
issued
daily.
A kind of ‘‘artistic covenant’’ sustained him throughout. ‘‘Antoine [Fuqua], with Baltasar [Kormakur], Jean-Marc Vallee – all of these men are committed to not only telling the story but also committed to the relationship with their actors,’’ he says.
‘‘And I’ll do anything for anybody when they believe in what I’m doing.’’
When Southpaw is released this month, it will be the first of a run of boxing films to come to the big screen in the coming year. Can Gyllenhaal account for this zeitgeist moment?
‘‘It’s a tough time for many people in the world and it’s our job in entertainment industry to tell stories that give people some motivation,’’ he says.
‘‘When you are knocked down, there’s that arc: ‘There’s nothing in my brain telling me I should get up, nothing in my heart telling me I should get up… and yet I get up.’ I think there’s no better time for that idea to be brought out into
the world than now.’’