Sticking fairly closely to the facts of Mr. Ward’s story, “The Fighter” plants itself firmly in his native terrain of Lowell, Mass., immersing the viewer in the sensorium of a hard-luck industrial town left to languish in the backwash of globalization. You can almost smell the weariness and desperation rising off of the tar that Micky, in his day job as a road paver, spreads on streets lined with sagging three-decker houses and faded storefronts. A city with a distinguished place in American labor and literary history — it was the birthplace of Jack Kerouac — Lowell in the early 1990s, when “The Fighter” unfolds, is blighted by poverty, unemployment and the crack epidemic, which has claimed Micky’s half brother, Dicky Eklund, as a casualty. Christian Bale’s performance as Mr. Eklund is astonishing. Mr. Wahlberg gives a brilliantly quiet performance, underplaying so gracefully and with so little vanity that you almost forget that the movie is supposed to be about Micky.



