The Boxing Beat on and off the Screen

As The Times’ boxing writer, I’ve seen the preparation and effort required of a fighter to dance on his toes in the ring for 12 rounds. That translates to 36 minutes. On some days, during the shooting of “Ali,” Will Smith would be on his feet, fighting and dancing for eight to 10 hours.

While on the set of “Ali” in Los Angeles, I remarked to comedian Paul Rodriguez, who plays Dr. Ferdie Pacheco, how hard Smith was working. Rodriguez shrugged and said, “Hey, $20 million doesn’t go as far as it used to,” referring to Smith’s salary for playing the part of Muhammad Ali.

In real life, fighters must not only endure the physical exertion, but must do so while someone is pounding them in the face and body. Even in reel life, Smith had similar problems. Michael Bentt, formerly a minor heavyweight title-holder, plays Sonny Liston. James Toney, a seven-time champion in various weight divisions, plays Joe Frazier. Charles Shufford, a heavyweight contender, plays George Foreman.

No, they were not trying to hurt Smith, but yes, they were striving for realism. That meant lightly pounding the actor with grazing blows, take after take. Grazing blows from professional fighters are hardly love taps.

“When I get up in the morning, I sometimes ache so much, I have to roll out of bed,” Smith said. “My arms are so sore, it’s hard to lift them.”

I got to watch Smith work up-close when I was hired for a small part in “Ali” as a sportswriter--the role of Liston was already filled. Director Michael Mann wanted to keep things as true to life as possible. Mann had hired me, along with Times sports columnist Bill Plaschke and NBC sportscaster Jim Gray, to add realism to the production. And I think we contributed.

When a reporter’s question in a news conference scene didn’t ring true and I mentioned it to Mann, he said, “Change it.”

In a scene in which Ali arrives at a motel after beating Liston in their rematch and finds a media mob on the steps, Mann inquired, “What would a reporter ask in a situation like this?”

I made a few suggestions.

“Do it,” Mann replied.

Sometimes the scene was almost too real. At one point Smith was in the ring, his elbows resting on the top rope. He peered into the darkened arena, eyes squinting, and yelled out, “Where’s Howard Cosell? I need Howard Cosell. I got to have Howard Cosell.”

Close your eyes and you would swear it was Muhammad Ali.

The cameras were temporarily off on the set of “Ali,” but Smith was still on, totally immersed in a role he had been preparing for during a grueling 12 months.

“Cosell’s in the trailer, getting his hair done,” an extra yelled out, referring to actor Jon Voight.

“Well, he don’t need to be there to do that,” Smith replied.

Ali himself couldn’t have said it any better.

Smith was not alone in his devotion to his role.

Voight seemed an unlikely choice to play Cosell, but not once his extensive makeup was in place and his character was established. This was not Billy Crystal doing a Cosell impersonation. This was a serious actor playing a part.

At one point, I approached Voight and said, “Jon, I want to know

“What did you call me, young man?” he snapped back in his best Cosellian voice.

“I’m sorry, Howard,” I said.

No detail was too small for Mann. In a scene in which then-Cassius Clay enters the ring for his first fight against Liston, the script calls for Clay to remove his robe, then dance around the ring. Mann asked Angelo Dundee, Ali’s trainer who served as a consultant on the film, “That night, did your fighter take his robe off before he danced around or afterward?”

Mann had a tape of each Clay/Ali fight ringside and would continually check it against the film he was making.

There were plenty of laughs along with the hard work. In the motel scene, I approach Ali and his cheerleader-confidant, Drew “Bundini” Brown, played by Jamie Foxx, and asked my questions. After doing the scene about 15 times, Mann moved across the street to get a long shot of me badgering Ali.

Because we were no longer miked, we could say anything we wanted, but our expressions had to match the close-ups.

As I approached, Foxx muttered out of the side of his mouth, “You ask that question one more time, you’re going over the side of the balcony.”

I fought the urge to crack up and kept a straight face.

Now that’s acting.

Ultimately, “Ali” is not a boxing movie. It’s a movie about being black in America in the second half of the 20th century, about being caught up in the Muslim movement, in Vietnam and in the civil rights movement. The central character happens to be a fighter. But if the boxing did not seem real, the credibility of the rest of the movie would suffer.

In most boxing movies, the director’s task is to make the fighting seem as genuine as those matches we’ve all seen in person or on television. Mann’s task was far more difficult. He had to match his images to those burned into the brain of every Ali follower. And I think he succeeded. When the movie Ali goes down from a tremendous left hook thrown by Frazier, Ali’s feet go up in the air, the tassels waving forlornly, just as was the case in real life. When Ali knocks out Foreman, he does it with one devastating right hand, as did the real Ali in Zaire. Mann resists the temptation to go over the top with a 30-punch demolition such as those common to the “Rocky” movies.

And Smith has done a masterful job of re-creating Ali’s trademark moves in the ring, from taunting his opponents to inflaming the crowd to dancing, ever dancing.

Steve Springer is a sportswriter for The Times.