It is perhaps the most revered and repeated story in Hollywood: the underdog's triumph over adversity. Hollywood never tires of telling it, and on this outing it's dressed up in the proto-feminist guise that worked so well with Erin Brokovich. But the package here is fairly transparent. Screenwriter Cheryl Edwards and director Charles S. Dutton deliver a routine, lukewarm melodrama which has a flavor for boxing and scrappy heroines, but never rises above its own mold.

Jackie (played by Meg Ryan) is introduced as a secretary working for a huffy, sexist boxing manager at the Cleveland Coliseum. She has lots of ideas and good intuition, but her boss dismisses her and tells her to fetch his coffee. Later at a luncheon, she spars with rival manager Sam LaRocca (played by Tony Shalhoub), says she could easily do his job, and as hushed bystanders look on, she buys a no-name fighter from him for a dollar.

From here, the rest of the film tropes line up accordingly: the young, tough kid from the ghetto, the jaded coach back from retirement, the double crossing press, the long shot at the title. It's all engineered according to popular tastes. At some point, someone at the studio must have said, "her life is like a movie," but it is difficult to say how Kallen's story benefits from this film treatment.

How true is it? In interviews, Kallen said she gave the green light to the script, and knew that her story would be chopped up to fit a three act structure. She said ultimately the essence of her story remained true. Still, the film ignores her early career as a journalist, and makes it appear as if she's rising up through the secretarial ranks. She spent ten years as a publicist in Detroit, not Cleveland, before striking out on her own as a boxing manager. Luther (played by Omar Epps), the rough ghetto kid she nurtures into a winning prize fighter after one short season in the film was actually a composite of several people. The boxer he most closely resembles, James "Lights Out" Toney, did not win his championship until after three years under Kallen's management.

While some facts must bend to meet narrative needs, it is difficult to say that the changes here improve the story. The choices Edwards makes for her script are often cheap, overused, and at times ridiculous. All the men Kallen deal with, save one intrepid reporter with a crush, are snarling, sneering bastards. The verbal repartee trades nasty insults and witty comebacks; if Kallen is going to compete, the logic goes, she has to have balls, and the balls must be in her mouth. The fight sequences are well mounted, but credibility runs thin when Kallen makes an eleventh hour entrance in the final match and whispers a winning combination into Luther's ear.

The film resists exploring issues in modern boxing with any depth: the rampant sexism, racism, and corruption, and the mysterious fascination of watching two grown men beat each other up for money.

But too much reality always wrecks a good formula.

The real-life Kallen took issue with herself being portrayed as physically provocative. Indeed, the high heeled boots, constant cleavage, and form-fitting clothing detracted from the film's feminist message, and reinforced the idea of looking at Kallen as an object. Though she thought Ryan wore it well, Kallen said, "I was married at the time. I wouldn't go out dressed like that. It would be embarrassing."

For all the script's problems, the cast manages to salvage quite a few nice moments. Kallen is careless at times in dealing with Luther, and when she snubs him at a press conference, their relationship goes south. When her hard exterior melts and she becomes human for awhile, Ryan hits her high notes as Kallen comes to terms with her own hunger for publicity. Director Charles S. Dutton pulls double duty as Felix the trainer, and occupies the worthy moral center of the film with his heavy eyes and shuffling gait. Omar Epps makes Luther's skepticism and ambition feel connected and genuine, and indie favorite Kerry Washington as Kallen's friend does what she can, though her role is too small.

Contrary to other reviews, Ryan is not miscast for the film. Though she may not resemble Kallen's emotional tenor or physical style, she brings her usual class and boyancy that has salvaged many other sketchy projects. Here, she plays against type, and brings a welcome warmth to this cold, calculated world. Even the verbal barbs feel not as harsh or shrewd from her mouth; it's as if she only half believes them. She makes the silly formula at least worthwhile.

For all others interested in Kallen, her autobiography might be a better place to start.

Todd Lillethun is a writer and filmmaker in Chicago.