Ali is a rush of charm, violence, and well-crafted myth making sure to enthrall. From the unforgettable surge of the opening--a 10-minute montage of sheer brilliance where formative scenes from the...

Ali is a rush of charm, violence, and well-crafted myth making sure to enthrall. From the unforgettable surge of the opening--a 10-minute montage of sheer brilliance where formative scenes from the early life of Cassius Clay float along on the rapture of a live performance by Sam Cooke in a Harlem nightclub--through to Muhammad Ali's departure for Zaire to fight George Foreman, Michael Mann's homage is mostly crisp and fleet-footed. As Clay/Ali, Will Smith acquits himself marvelously due in large part to his uncanny re-creation of Ali's most famous weapon, his mesmerizing voice. Indeed, the best scenes throughout showcase Ali's verbal rather than pugilistic sparring; whether with his entourage (notably Jamie Foxx), Howard Cosell (Jon Voight), or Don King (Mykelti Williamson), Michael Mann's Ali has the same authoritative wit and ability to surprise that so disarmed the public. The news conferences and behind-the-scenes banter are exquisitely re-created; not so Ali's flaws. Mann's attempt to depict Ali's womanizing, his dubious affiliation with the Nation of Islam, and his insatiable need for the spotlight seems halfhearted and laborious in comparison to the film's enlivened adoration of its subject. As the sluggish second half of the film betrays, Ali is at its impressionistic best when it's in awe rather than when it explains.