On his way to Tulsa, Oklahoma for his last appearance on ESPN’s Top Rank, former boxer Alex Saucedo begs a question as emotional as it is existential: What does he do with the fighter that still lives inside of him? Emmett Berg’s Saucedo traces that “what” — and all the hardship it entails — in a raw, unflinching, and heartbreaking documentary.
For nearly a decade, Saucedo dominated light welterweight boxing, racking up 30 wins across 32 fights. His meteoric rise would tragically end just as swiftly when an accidental headbutt in October 2020 spurred a traumatic brain injury. Within days after the incident, Saucedo learned he could never fight again.
Many claim he was lucky, and Saucedo acknowledges as much. In his interview on Top Rank, he explains nine in 10 people die from similar injuries, and those who survive must live with severe, permanent disabilities. While Saucedo claims to be the lucky number 11, it doesn’t ensure smooth sailing. After all, he has a wife. He has two kids. And he has next to no formal education.
Berg’s coverage begins days after Saucedo’s injury and spans approximately three years. Surprisingly little of the doc directly concerns itself with boxing. Rather, we see Saucedo’s struggle to accept “the one thing he knows how to do” slip away from him. He still achieves milestones, like buying a home and ceremoniously meeting David Holt, Oklahoma City’s mayor.
But the film isn’t a perpetual build toward triumphant. We see Saucedo stumble, slip into early signs of addiction, and otherwise begin to question his life’s path. While this is moving for the most part, some instances feel like they may cross the line into insensitivity. This doesn’t make Saucedo unwatchable or downright exploitative. To say that would force us to question the integrity of films like Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing and The Look of Silence. Those docs — and much of Saucedo — find their staying power in uncomfortable situations. That said, it feels like there’s a better way to illustrate Saucedo’s mental health struggle without literally filming his first therapy session.
Granted, this same exposure is what helps Saucedo achieve a more cohesive whole. Because the film isn’t riddled with explicit, emotionally intense moments. The vast majority of it is exactly what it needs to be: a candid examination of life. It shows Saucedo raising a puppy, shopping at Best Buy, and working in construction. It’s a far cry from his brief and never fully fulfilled celebrity. It’s a stark reminder that success stories like Mike Tyson and Floyd Mayweather aren’t the norm, but once-in-a-lifetime exceptions.
Saucedo’s conclusion is real, poignant, and palpable. We eventually learn Saucedo starts to coach boxing, which feels like a way for him to safely indulge that fighter within him while sharing his legacy with a new generation of fighters. After first hearing this, some may feel the desire to see this, hoping that the film lands on a comfortable, feel-good moment. At the same time, this wouldn’t lend itself to the point the film is trying to make.
The doc could’ve misstepped trying to connect its thesis explicitly to boxing. While not entirely inappropriate, that would’ve bordered irrelevant given Saucedo‘s nature. After all, this isn’t a film about chasing glory or desperately clinging to what was. It’s about moving on. Fortunately, it showcases this principle more often than not.
Sometimes, the clearest of victory is simply living and going through the motions, no matter how mundane that seems. Saucedo embraces the normal, recognizing everyday routines as the most vital signs of life. Ultimately, no matter how high we rise in fame and fortune, we still eat, cry, drink and breathe. And it proves Saucedo isn’t just a former boxer. He’s human.
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