Champion.
Monster.
From November 1970 to July 1977, Carlos Monzon was the latter, ruling the middleweight division through 14 title defenses. He might have been the greatest middleweight who ever lived.
Monzon went to his grave as the latter.
Over 13 compelling parts, available on Netflix, the mini-series Monzon makes the case for the latter having been present all along both as a product of environment and deep character flaw. It came to a head in 1988 when Monzon murdered his wife, Alicia Muniz, sparking a firestorm in his native country and capturing headlines around the world.
Readers who tuned in to FX’s excellent The People v. OJ Simpson will see striking parallels in the two productions. Monzon, produced by Buena Vista (Disney) and released in 2019, moves across similar territory but it tells its own unique story and is well worth viewing for boxing and non-boxing fans alike.
It begins like a horror movie, the first moments of the series capturing the sounds of domestic violence without the acts themselves, until there is no sound at all but for the playing of a radio. From there, the story unfolds on two tracks: the investigation and trial of Monzon the monster and the life of Monzon the champion.
What works best from start to finish is the choice of leads for the role of Monzon. Mauricio Paniagua portrays the younger Monzon while Jorge Roman portrays him in his later years. Sometimes, the use of differing actors portraying the same character can be jarring but in this series the actors portrayals compliment each other. Both, particularly Paniagua, have the build and staging to feel like they really could be Monzon.
Paniagua’s long limbs, motion, and general physical presence allow for one of the better tricks of the show to play out seamlessly. The series mixes plenty of real documentary footage from Monzon’s fights and public appearances with a few fight scenes where Paniagua is asked to act out the ring dramas. Acting out real fights can be difficult on film. Monzon does a better job than many other efforts, accurately reenacting real sequences like Monzon’s stoppage of Nino Benvenuti for the title while still feeling organic.
Just as organic is believing Paniagua as Monzon transitioning to film. The series takes care to establish the development of Monzon’s relationship with actress Susana Gimenez, and estrangement from his wife Pelusa, through Monzon’s role in the movie La Mary. Netflix’s Monzon, just as they do in the fight scenes, restages scenes from Monzon’s movie role with careful attention to detail.
Roman’s Monzon juxtaposes perfectly with Paniagua, playing the elder ‘campeon’ as established in his arrogance and feeling of entitlement while his world crumbles. He’s clearly not the man he was but there is an air of danger, a simmering rage, coming off Roman at all times. Even when he’s seemingly calm, it always feels like only a blink from the next moment when it won’t be.
This will beg the question of how much of the story told is accurate.
While very familiar with the boxing exploits of Monzon, and aware of the general details of the case and his history of abuse, as a US viewer there isn’t the same sort of living memory the Simpson trial holds. Some general research about the show in the Argentine press reveals there are plenty of historical inaccuracies and, unlike The People v. OJ Simpson, more of the characters presented are fictionalized with names changed for prosecutors and defense attorneys alike. The show also has a significant subplot about political corruption in Argentina.
It’s good TV.
How much it says about late 1980s Argentina would be for someone else to decide.
It’s certainly not a perfect show. Despite a late season episode focused on Muniz that tries to center her story, it’s hard not to wonder at times if she isn’t being revictimized by the narrative. This is especially true during a second autopsy some viewers may find hard to digest.
Could it be part of the point the show is aiming for? The idea of true crime as entertainment, filling hours on the airwaves, is a prevailing theme throughout. The media firestorm and national discussion of the killing of Muniz is a significant theme, revealing how quickly people can take sides without all the facts...almost as they would in cheering for sport.
As Muniz’s body is surrounded by the prosecutor, the defense, her family’s personal attorney, and medical professionals, her place as a voiceless pawn in someone else’s battle is more than symbolic. It doesn’t mean some of the imagery doesn’t raise questions about the line between drama and exploitation.
This is also true in the episode where the final day of Muniz’s life, and the story the judge/jury ultimately settled on, is presented. As was the case in the first episode, there are genuine moments of terror and horror but this time the visuals are fully presented. It’s a brutal sequence, making no apologies for Monzon, but again it leaves questions about some of the visuals chosen.
It also comes late in a series that at times may do too much to downplay how abusive Monzon really was. Some of the choices made in terms of narrative exclusion matter. Monzon, in recreations of news events, is discussed as a known abuser but the depiction of him as such is limited until the end. There is no significant reference to a jail term served in the mid-1970s or the time his wife (Pelusa, portrayed excellently by actress Paloma Ker) shot him.
In depicting the line between champion and monster, the show and tell scale sometimes overly favors the former.
And what of the boxing elements?
The relationship between Monzon and trainer Amilcar Brusa is developed wonderfully. Actor Fabian Arenillas, as Brusa, delicately balances the part of serious trainer and concerned father figure who recognizes the demons driving his pupil.
As noted, there is some use of real Monzon footage alongside recreations of the first Benvenuti fight and the rematch with Rodrigo Valdez. What really should stand out for boxing fans are the references to fighters of legendary stature in Argentina. One of the best scenes in the series is a bathroom conversation between Monzon and Jr. welterweight great Niccolino Locche. We get a glimpse of an aspiring Victor Galindez. In a critical dialogue between Monzon and his promoter, a conversation about the fate of flyweight immortal Pascual Perez foreshadows the end for Monzon.
It’s a reminder of how big the boxing world really is. A minor mistake in the title cards for Monzon’s two fights with Valdes (the dates are transposed) and some other mistaken names and dates are fleeting errors that might be missed unless one is looking or scanning BoxRec as they go.
Overall, especially in a time when many will be looking for items to steal some hours and give them something to think about, Monzon provides arguably the best character study of a fighter since Raging Bull (and there are certainly parallels to that classic work as well) with more depth than any feature film could provide.
Monzon can be streamed in full on Netflix now.
While the sport is largely postponed, boxing has a rich library of classic fights, films, and books to pass the time. In terms of fights, readers are welcome to get involved. Feel free to email, comment in the forum, or tweet @roldboxing with classic title fight suggestions. If they are widely available on YouTube, and this scribe has never seen them or simply wants to see them again, the suggestion will be credited while the fight is reviewed in a future chapter of Boxing Without Boxing.
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Cliff Rold is the Managing Editor of BoxingScene, a founding member of the Transnational Boxing Rankings Board, and a member of the Boxing Writers Association of America. He can be reached at roldboxing@hotmail.com
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