“In-fighters,” Manny Farber observed in his famous 1949 essay on fight films, are never depicted in boxing movies. “Counterpunches, cuties are never characterized – only one type is presented, a creaking version of the mauling club-fighter.” That’s not the fault of the actors but the directors, who always go for the big punch – literally and figuratively. In Ron Howard’s “Cinderella Man,” every plot twist throws a haymaker to the heart.

The film is being lauded for its adherence to the facts of the life of James J. Braddock, who came off welfare to win the heavyweight title in 1935 in one of the biggest upsets in boxing history. This version of Braddock’s story was approved by all surviving members of his family, but that’s not necessarily the same thing as historical fact, and historical fact isn’t necessarily the same thing as truth.

Though the film is getting points for reviving the old-style Hollywood boxing movie, by the standards of the best-known fight films – from “Champion” (1949, with Kirk Douglas) to Scorsese’s “Raging Bull” – it’s remarkably atypical. Again, Farber: “The scenarios of boxing films seem to have been written by a gossip columnist – they concentrate on spanking the hero for the un-Christian way he breaks training by smoking, the mean treatment he accords his friends, and, most of all, his crude, ugly approach to women.” Russell Crowe’s Jim Braddock, like the real James J., had a strong, Irish-Catholic working-class ethic and was a devoted family man. The real problem, then, was how to give dramatic edge to a story that has a nearly flawless hero and no villain.

Mr. Howard and screenwriters Cliff Hollingsworth and Akiva Goldsman provided one in the form of Braddock’s opponent in the big fight, Max Baer. Braddock’s family may recognize the hulking menace (played by Craig Bierko) that represents Baer in the film, but it’s doubtful that anyone who knew the real Baer will associate this super-projection with the real madcap Max.

Baer, a devastating right-handed puncher, was indeed responsible for the ring deaths of two men, but he, who held the title for just one year, was no villain. In fact, he was wildly popular, much more so than Braddock was. Handsome and jovial, Baer was a natural crowd-pleaser, so much so that Hollywood tapped him to star in a boxing move, “The Prizefighter and the Lady,” with Myrna Loy, before he even won the title. But Baer, notorious for his slack training habits and for clowning in the ring, was ripe for an upset by the time he fought Braddock.

The movie fight, which Howard builds to an almost unbearable intensity, is a brutal slugfest. The real fight, viewed 70 years later on tape, shows a listless and boring slap fest (Baer lost three rounds on fouls). As boxing historian Bert Sugar puts it, “Most spectators sat on their hands and extracted them only at the end, to cheer the decision for Braddock.” Some fans booed both men for the lack of action. When the decision was announced, Max was a gracious loser. “I’m happy for Jim,” he told reporters. “He’s got three kids. I don’t know how many I have.”

In making Baer sinister, the shameless Mr. Howard adds an unsavory and probably unintentional dark note to the film. Baer claimed Jewish ancestry on his father’s side and wore the Star of David on his trunks. In “Cinderella Man,” the Catholic Braddock seems to have an inside track to God. During the bout we see a priest lifting his eyes to heaven, apparently beseeching God to take note of the greater number of left jabs his boy is landing.

In real life, the Cinderella Man’s coach turned into a pumpkin two years after the Baer fight, when Braddock was knocked out in eight rounds by Joe Louis. The movie neglects to tell us that the only way the first black champion since Jack Johnson could get his title shot was to sign a contract that guaranteed Braddock and his manager, Joe Gould (played in the film by Paul Giamatti), 10% of the earnings from all Louis’s title fights.

Like all boxing movies, “Cinderella Man” claims ring authenticity (Angelo Dundee, who trained a score of champions, including Muhammad Ali, was a technical adviser), but the actual boxing looks like the worst moments from “The Contender.” All punches are roundhouse swings replete with a follow-through that looks like something out of a John Wayne movie. No one slips a punch or even tries; every blow is head-jarring.

The boxing in “Cinderella Man” is more believable than the ham-handed club fighting of “Rocky” or the Grand Guignol blood-letting of “Raging Bull.” But Hilary Swank, with her perfect balance and the straight, overhand right she delivered in “Million Dollar Baby,” made just about every actor who ever appeared in boxing trunks look like an amateur. Pound-for-pound, I’d make her an odds-on favorite to take Russell Crowe out in three.