Tyson (2009)

In Tyson, James Toback sets up a camera, sits the ex-champ down on a couch and lets him talk. And cry. And boast. And self-examine. And, mostly, self-justify. Toback calls his subject "a figure of staggering complexity." Actually, he's a figure of rather sad simplicity, a frightened and fatherless boy who grew up brutalized and grew to brutalize other people. That the ring afforded him, for a while, a chance to do that legally made him his fortune -- most of which he went on to throw away. What's doubly tragic is that Tyson still can't understand his own downfall. He was convicted of rape in 1992 and spent three years in prison. On camera now, he angrily declares his innocence, calling his accuser "a wretched swine of a woman." His insistence soon rings a little hollow ("I may have taken advantage of women before, but I never took advantage of her.") When he talks about women -- "I want to ravish them," "I want to dominate them sexually" -- it's in the language of aggression, not affection. Yet Tyson still thinks he's a good guy -- more sinned against then sinning, brought down by "leeches." By only interviewing Tyson, Toback lets him get away with it, too. Do Tyson's ex-wives have anything pertinent to add? Does Evander Holyfield, perhaps, have a differing point of view? It's a good bet, but you won't find them here. Instead, you will find a grab bag of occasional split-screens and sometimes overlapping or echoing dialogue -- all of which does more to obscure than illuminate the self-deceiving subject. It's a long, sad slide show of a man who had everything and lost it. The saddest thing is that this great fighter still doesn't seem to realize that he was his own fiercest opponent. Some elements of Tyson's story are utterly fascinating -- sadly, none of it gets more than a glossed over explanation (surely Tyson's hands-on involvement with the film had a lot to do with that). In the end, this documentary doesn't come anywhere close to recognizing its potential.