AllMovie

As a celebration of the career of Muhammad Ali and his impact on not only the world of sport but the world at large, this documentary can be termed a success. It contains many of the film clips familiar to anyone, even those with little interest in boxing, and adds testimony from dozens of people--Ali family members, journalists, entertainers, and ring foes-nearly all offering unstinting praise for the man chosen by Sports Illustrated as the top athlete of the twentieth century. It's revealing that there are so many show business figures here, from Billy Crystal to Billy Connolly, from Rod Steiger to Berry Gordy; Ali was as much a showman as a splendid fighter, and these men are paying homage to a fellow entertainer. In trying to expand Ali's role beyond that of a heavyweight fighter with amazing speed and agility, the filmmakers have pared down the number of interviewees from the boxing world. There is Angelo Dundee, Ali's longtime trainer, and there are quick glimpses of Ali foes Henry Cooper, Chuck Wepner, Jimmy Ellis, and George Foreman, but Joe Frazier's absence is noticeable (though perhaps understandable, since Frazier held a longtime grudge against Ali for his public statements preceding their third fight). Fighter Lenox Lewis does offer a pithy assessment of Ali's practice of "the sweet science" of being able to hit someone without getting hit yourself, a rarity in the heavyweight division, which favors a toe-to-toe, slug-it-out style. Although the film makes it clear how Ali affected people of color the world over--with testimony from Maya Angelou, James Earl Jones, and tennis super dad Richard Williams--it does also include the observation that Ali's post-boxing career as an ambassador of goodwill was largely symbolic, as he had no intrinsic interest in politics. Writer Mark Schram also offers a critique of Ali's earlier work as a Muslim, claiming he was simply a puppet of Elijah Muhammad and his minions. The film shows how Ali's declining health has made him a figure of dignity, not pity. His crowning public act, lighting the Olympic torch at the 1996 Atlanta Games, seems a fitting act for a man who transcended a sport with limited appeal.