The Bronze Blu-ray Movie

Rating summary

Movie		4.0
Video		4.5
Audio		4.0
Extras		1.0
Overall		3.5

The Bronze Blu-ray Movie Review

Reviewed by Martin Liebman July 29, 2016

Heroes are important. Necessary, even. But sometimes it's best if the heroics begin and end in front of the façade, away from the realities beyond the camera's line of sight and the microphone's range. Just as truth and life can be ugly, so too can be heroes. Heroes are human. They may have been infallible on the field, on the dais, or wherever, and whenever, it is that one finds them, but there's almost always another side to the same coin, one that's taken all the tarnish, the worn-down ugly side the world never sees. And if that coin becomes flipped, be it fleetingly or permanently, many people can, and often will, forgive the flaws, whether by truth of heart or refusal to accept the truth. Indeed, nothing in this world is perfect, even those who present a perfect side. Director Bryan Buckley's The Bronze tells the story of one such hero, a person whose accomplishments lifted spirits, but destroyed hers, a person whose life is cherished by everyone but herself. It's a movie of pain, but also a movie of hope. And it's vulgar. Like, really, really vulgar. But it works. It's honest. It's raw. A little make-believe pushes it ahead, but its core is as genuine as they come. It's not for everyone, but for anyone who can accept the character's tarnish will be rewarded with a heroic cinematic effort.

Hope.

Hope (Melissa Rauch) has been an accomplished gymnast her entire life. Her father Stan (Gary Cole), a widower raising her by himself, encouraged her growth from stumbling little girl into Olympic hopeful. Hope made the Olympics, but a broken ankle during a key routine dashed her hopes of gold. She perseveres, however, and earns a bronze medal, on a bad leg, in another event. She becomes an overnight sensation, an American hero, and an icon in her small home town in Ohio. But now, years later, she's a shell of her former self. She's mean spirited, snorts drugs, and steals from her father. He still loves her, and the town still adores her, despite her bad attitude. One day, she receives word that her old gymnastics coach, to whom she has not spoken in some time, has died. Later, a letter arrives in the mail. Hope can inherit $500,000 from the late coach if she dedicates herself to training a new Olympic hopeful named Maggie (Haley Lu Richardson). There are no conditions other than that Hope make an honest effort to get the girl to the next games in Toronto, which are coming up fast. Hope reluctantly agrees, only for the cash, and finds the task disdainful at best. She also catches the eye of a local boy named Ben (Thomas Middleditch), who works in the gym.

Hope is sort of like a strange combination of hero and anti-hero. She's fondly embraced in town, but she's not a particularly nice person. She's incredibly crude and crass, but her vulgarity, thievery, drug abuse, and the generally distasteful way she leads her life almost seems like a cry for help. She's wounded. Has been since her dreams were shattered with her ankle. She's torn between the adulation of her fans, the praise for her heroics, and her own self-punishment, doubt, and anger that she couldn't live up to her own expectations and accomplish her own goals. Essentially, she's adored for her own perceived failures. One can almost understand the dark path she's on. She's forced to live in a world where truth and lies entwine in some unfathomable challenge that no person can overcome. It's a fascinating character study, particularly as the film doesn't focus on someone with greater life experience but rather a young woman with most of her life ahead of her. Life -- hope, as her name suggests -- is still within her grasp. It's all in front of her, not a last-ditch effort for redemption. So, yes, it's ugly. But The Bronze is also beautiful, beautiful in its unflinching honesty and the gentle ways it massages the character, and the world around her, that doesn't get rid of the kinks but slowly reveals the real person behind that impossible dichotomy of upward pulls and downward spirals.

Beyond its interesting contrasts of external hero worship and internal self-loathing is the exceptional lead performance from Melissa Rauch. Her grasp, understanding of purpose, and execution of the character's seemingly endless stream of vulgarities is remarkable, transforming expletive and insult from petty potty mouth talk to purposeful character exploration. The part is extraordinarily well written. The cursing and insults flow freely and naturally, complimented by Rauch's reach with the material and inhabitation of the character, managing to slyly, and slowly, reveal the wounds while maintaining her distant and almost devilish front. It's interesting to watch her walls go ever-so-slightly down and see her raise her shields back up the moment she realizes the real person becomes vulnerable. Rauch emotes that underlying internal pain and overt external cruelness with a vitality and combination lack of concern meets long-ingrained negative mental state remarkably well. With the character so complex, it's amazing to see Rauch present her so naturally and, seemingly, effortlessly. Perhaps never has so much foul language sounded so good or meant so much to the central plot and characterization of a movie.

The Bronze Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

The Bronze arrives on Blu-ray with a typically stellar new release transfer from Sony. The digital source material translates very well, looking a slight bit flat and smooth but always stretching detail to its limit, particularly skin textures, such as Hope's freckles, her father's facial hair, and other character tidbits. Her old Olympic uniform is tangibly complex and tactile, while all of the small town accents, whether down main street or inside the gym, reveal lifelike levels of identifiable and clearly defined surfaces and odds and ends. Colors are vibrant and well saturated, enjoying natural punch and pop along the way. Black levels are commendably deep and accurate. Flesh tones are a strength. Light aliasing is visible along some green railings in the Olympics arena in the third act, but the image is otherwise free of any obtrusive noise, banding, or other ailments. This is a first-rate presentation from Sony.

The Bronze Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

The Bronze doesn't strike sonic gold on Blu-ray, but its DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 lossless soundtrack proves more than capable of swinging and sticking the landing as needed. Minor exterior atmospherics around the small town location are fine, with a much wider opening later in the movie as the tinier environment gives way to raucous crowds of Olympic fans. Musical definition is strong, a bit timid and front-heavy, at first, but opening up as the film progresses to offer a more enriching surround experience and, sometimes, a very potent low end. Strong effects are very few in the film, but basic shape, definition, and insertion into the stage satisfy. Dialogue is mostly the name of the game with this one, and the spoken word is unsurprisingly effective in delivery, presenting with natural clarity, center placement, and prioritization above all comers.

The Bronze Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

The Bronze contains deleted scenes and the film's trailer. No DVD or digital versions are included.

• Deleted Scenes (1080p, 6:40 total runtime): Pharmacy, Meatloaf, Wake Up Fight, Tape Break, and Gym Kids.
• The Bronze Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 1:19).
• Previews (1080p): Additional Sony titles.

The Bronze Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

The Bronze is a surprisingly deep and meaningful character study that uses its nastiness to its advantage. Well written, superbly acted, and smartly constructed, the film is certainly not for all tastes -- it's uncomfortable and borderline verbally grotesque at times -- but it's a rather powerful and engaging film when all is said and done. Sony's Blu-ray is disappointingly absent any sort of meaningful extra content, but video and audio are just fine, the former in particular. Recommended.