(L-R) John Robinson, Victor Rasuk and Emile Hirsch are the iconic Z-Boys in director Catherine Hardwicke's Lords of Dogtown.

Imagine the great movies director Ron Howard could make if he only took a break from syrupy sentiment.

The true story of down-on-his-luck boxer Jim Braddock (Russell Crowe) and his 1935 title fight against heavyweight champ Max Baer (Craig Bierko) is readymade for Hollywood. For his David vs. Goliath tale Cinderella Man, Howard looks to another Depression era saga, the tear-jerky horse drama Seabiscuit, for inspiration instead of a human ringside epic like Raging Bull. If mawkishness is the main ingredient for qualifying a movie as best of the year, then Cinderella Man has few competitors.

Braddock was a promising light heavyweight until a string of losses and a broken right hand coincided with the Great Depression. Renée Zellweger is his loyal wife, Mae, who utters predictable lines like, "Every time you get hit it feels like I'm getting hit."

Crowe, the best at playing macho heroes, deserves better than Howard's superficial characterization of Braddock. Crowe plays determination well with grit and sweat, and his fight scenes are believable. But there is none of the heroism he showed as Captain Jack Aubrey in Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, his best film performance to date. Crowe comes out fighting, but the film's relentless sappiness beats him down.

Zellweger's Kewpie Doll looks sync perfectly with the '30s era. When a reporter asks, "Are you scared for your husband's life?" Mae responds with the frantic look of someone just waking up to the fact that boxing is a dangerous sport. Zellweger plays the worrisome wife well, yet she has more to offer the role than Howard allows.

Paul Giamatti is the only one who emerges free of sticky sentiment as Braddock's trainer and top promoter, Joe Gould. Giamatti, making his first on-screen performance since his star turn in Sideways, has the flair and hound-dog charisma we have come to expect from him.

There is plenty of suffering in Braddock's life, but it's all covered in movie gloss. Howard is skilled enough to make sure all the details are in place, but Cinderella Man possesses none of the emotion or substance of his stark and compelling western The Missing, the rare Howard film that's void of sentimentality.

Meanwhile, a summertime movie arrives with a welcome sense of surprise thanks to a youthful cast and a filmmaker willing to take risks. The androgynous boy rebels who front the skateboarding drama The Lords of Dogtown, a gritty and enthralling coming-of-age tale based on the acclaimed documentary Dogtown and Z-Boys, are bare-chested pretties, teen boys who resemble girls more than the macho surfers they admire. They're unlikely radicals, too glam to create a new sport or subculture, and yet that is just what they do.

It's 1975 and Venice, Calif., teens Stacy Peralta (John Robinson), Tony Alva (Victor Rasuk) and Jay Adams (Emile Hirsch) skateboard through back alleys, banging into trashcans and riding from the rear bumpers of buses. The friends start out as midnight surfers who leave their rundown apartments and skateboard to Venice Beach near the abandoned Ocean Park Pier in the early hours. The older surfers push the neighborhood boys around, both at the beach and their second home, the Zephyr Surf Shop.

When new urethane skateboard wheels arrive -- voilà -- a new sport is born, a blend of surfing and skateboarding. It's not long before Zephyr Surf Shop co-owner Skip Engblom (Heath Ledger) starts a skateboard team, the Z-Boys from Dogtown.

Everything changes during a drought in Los Angeles. The Z-Boys start skating the empty pools of homes in nearby neighborhoods and learn gravity defying flips and 360-degree turns, stunts never seen before on skateboards.

Alva, Peralta and Adams, the street-smart children of Venice Beach, become the barbarians at the Skateboard Nationals. They have baggy jeans and long hair and skate to Black Sabbath. The judges hate them, but the girls are smitten. Overnight they become Rock stars of the burgeoning skateboard scene.

Catherine Hardwicke, director of 2003's teen girl dram Thirteen, works from a script by Dogtown and Z-Boys filmmaker and original Z-Boy Stacy Peralta. She emphasizes the boys' lives over history lessons about the origins of skateboarding culture. Some of the skaters rise to fame and riches; others are left behind in Dogtown. But all of their stories are worth repeating.

The three leads are the heart and soul of the film. Robinson makes full use of his razor sharp cheekbones, full lips and a lanky body as Peralta, the most levelheaded member of the group. Thanks to Robinson, you're convinced that Peralta will do anything to keep the Z-Boys together and ache when they eventually split apart.

As the curly-haired Alva, Rasuk is all temper and ego, desperate to move out from his Spanish father and pretty young sister. Rasuk counters Robinson's puppy-dog demeanor with arrogance and bravado. The best of the three leads, Hirsch has a sullen expression and a constant smirk as Adams. He also has a chip on his shoulder after his mother's boyfriend, the sole male role model in his life, walks away.

Hardwicke, a veteran production designer, fills The Lords of Dogtown with gritty Venice backdrops, beautiful sunsets and plush homes in the communities surrounding Venice, a taste of the better life that awaits the Z-Boys. But she understands that Dogtown, no matter how detailed and true to life, is only compelling when occupied by lifelike characters. Cinderella Man grade: D+; Lords of Dogtown grade: B