Rock-a-Bye, Baby?

If you haven't seen Million Dollar Baby and you're going to - don't read this post. It's a total spoiler.

I'm sure it's been around the blog a time or two, but I am solidly out of the loop. So what I'm writing is fresh for me while it may be old news for you. Indulge me. I just saw Million Dollar Baby. An hour and 45 minutes into the movie, I thought to myself, I might have to buy this movie - that's how much I was enjoying it. And then the ending comes: Maggie breaks her neck. She's on a respirator. The doctors take a leg. She wants to Frankie to kill her. Frankie kills her. The End.

"The Fighter Who Stopped Fighting" should have been the subtitle for Million Dollar Baby. Maggie refuses to be who she is, a fighter, and the masses applaud. Maybe that is appropriate for loser boxers, for quitters, for babies. But for fighters? To throw in the towel is the antithesis of what it means to be a fighter. A fighter stays in the ring.

Isn't it ironic how upset the writers want us to feel when her family tries to steal her money, but how sympathetic they want us to feel when her trainer steals her life? Why? Because she wanted to die? That can't possibly justify it. What if she had decided to give her money to her mother? You would have been upset. You would have been screaming for her not to sign the contract. But if she decides to die? Well, sure - it's her life.

Forgive me for sounding unsympathetic. I know the pain of it all must be overwhelming. I can't imagine. But it's a fight to win. And you keep fighting - make them drag you out of the ring - and make them wish they hadn't.