6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Toboggan remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like movies that don't care about making you feel good, sure. Watch this if you want to see what 1930s French cinema looked like when it stopped pretending everything was fancy. If you need a hero or a clean ending, skip it. You'll probably hate the way the camera just sits there, watching these people ruin their own lives.
There is this moment near the start where the smell of the boxing ring practically hits you through the screen. It’s not glamorous. It’s just sweat, cheap floor wax, and guys who are tired of getting punched. It reminds me a bit of the raw, uncomfortable energy in The Pottsville Palooka, but with way less optimism.
The boxer, he’s not some underdog with a heart of gold. He’s just a guy who is losing, and you can see it in the way he hunches his shoulders. Then there's the mistress. She wants things he can't buy. She’s not a villain, she’s just bored of being poor. Watching them try to talk to each other is painful.
It’s not as surreal or wild as The Blood of a Poet, obviously. It stays grounded in the mud. Sometimes the pacing just drags, though. There’s a sequence where they’re walking down a street that felt like it lasted twenty minutes. I checked my watch. It wasn't twenty minutes, but it felt like it.
I like that the movie doesn't try to explain why the boxer is fighting. He just is. That’s his job. It’s a job that kills you slowly. It’s a bit like the desperation you see in The Battle of Hearts, only with more concussions.
The ending isn't a punch in the gut so much as a slow deflation. No big speech, no music swelling up to tell you how to feel. Just people realizing they're stuck. It’s a bummer, but a well-made one. 🥊