Small, Slow But Steady

Writer: Sho Miyake / Keiko Ogasawara / Masaaki Sakai

Director: Sho Miyake

The boxing film genre may be niche, but it comes armed with a set of expectations. Based on real-life events, Small, Slow But Steady undertakes to subvert and contradict these, resulting in a drama that puts fragility, rather than strength, at the heart of its narrative.

The film retells the boxing career of Keiko Ogasawara (played by Yukino Kishii). She is a talented, Deaf boxer, training in a Tokyo gym, run by The Chairman (a charismatic Tomokazu Miura). Against this backdrop, the gym is struggling to retain members as Covid drives them away. Further to this, The Chairman’s health is failing, but his loyalty to Keiko (and vice versa) keeps them locked in a cycle of reps and rounds, perfecting Keiko’s skill for the next big fight.

While we have all the components of the traditional boxing film arc (there’s a very cheeky nod to Rocky, which rewards the patient viewer), unlike its 1970’s counterpart, this film trades high-octane action for well-paced, considered storytelling. There is plenty of footage of weaves and uppercuts, but this is not the place for macho posturing.

It is an ethos that serves Keiko well. There is only one scene where she demonstrates her astonishing virtuosity, and, rather appropriately, it’s during a practice session with her trainer. The rhythm between their punches is mesmerising, but not a blow is struck. Watching her in a fight, Keiko is dealing with far more unknowns when sparring with an opponent. The film ducks away from sports cliches at several points, and it is not in the fights that we necessarily see her at her best.

Miyake also illustrates Keiko’s deafness with unexpected details. The Chairman admits to a journalist that Keiko’s deafness is potentially “fatal” in the ring, but she has an intense watchfulness, portrayed with real sensitivity by Kishii, that helps to compensate. We also see her day to day, experiencing what it’s like to live in a hearing world. Most poignantly, she walks through Tokyo oblivious to an automated message about COVID, playing from loud speakers. Miyake then inverts this, when Keiko goes to lunch with friends. They all sign, and during this scene, the film is left purposely without subtitles. We have no option but to piece together what is being said.

“Unexpected” is a word that follows us throughout this film. We see Tokyo not as a neon-lit playground, but the cramped living conditions and ugly, urban sprawl that is reality for most of the city’s residents. As a sports film, Small, Slow But Steady examines psychological insight not from inside the ring, but from everywhere else. Emotion is a slow reveal, rather than big, showy declarations of love, but we are left in no doubt as to what characters feel for each other. Miyake’s handling of Keiko’s real-life story is beautifully balanced, and the restraint that Miyake applies does not make us feel less. It is a film that possesses real power, but better still, knows exactly when and how to use it.

Blue Finch Film Releasing presentsSmall, Slow But Steady in cinemas and on Curzon Home Cinema 30 June.