Valentina Shevchenko, left, and Halle Berry in Bruised (Netflix)

It’s hard not to root for Halle Berry to succeed, even if her career has been a roller coaster at the very least. As a Black actress making her way in Hollywood, she entered the 21st century winning a Golden Globe and an Emmy for the TV movie Introducing Dorothy Dandridge (1999), a prophetic role. Dandridge was the first Black actress who received a Best Actress Academy Award nomination. Two years later, Berry became the first—and to date the only—Black actress to win that prize for her raw performance in Monster’s Ball (2001).

In retrospect, her victory left a bittersweet taste. The film is barely remembered today while her triumph seems more historic than confirmation of a great career. The series of critical and commercial failures that came after (from Catwoman to Movie 43) leave the impression of an unfulfilled promise (the blame falls more on the industry than Berry). That’s why before and after watching Bruised—her debut as director no less, in which she also stars—it seems logical to reflect on Berry’s biography, finding symbolic parallelisms between her and her character, Jackie Justice, an ex-Ultimate Fighting Championship contender in need of a second chance to prove to others, and above all to herself, that she still has what made her special in the first place.

Berry decided to direct this project herself following the advice of Spike Lee, so it has the drive of a genuine passion project. For an actress, it’s easy to understand why the material looked juicy and attractive to Berry: the opportunity to tackle a complex character, someone who once had an undeniable spark and then hit rock bottom, until a chance to soar again comes along.

Jackie was defeated in a crucial championship fight. Four years later, she’s a has-been working as a housecleaner with serious anger management issues, as evidenced when she pushes a client’s spoiled teenager and breaks his phone after he has recorded her changing clothes. This is probably another among many jobs she has lost so far. She also chain smokes and drinks every chance she gets. Returning home, her boyfriend and ex-manager, Desi (Adan Canto), starts a tense fight over her decision to end her fighting career that almost becomes a dangerous physical confrontation until the violence morphs into heated sex.

He later drives her to observe an illegal fight in an attempt to convince her that she belongs back in the ring, which leads to a confrontation with the champion fighter. Let’s just say that Jackie leaves the match bruised but not as badly injured as her opponent. Also, the fight attracts the attention of Immaculate (Shamier Anderson), a promoter interested in training her for a proper comeback. Jackie is unsure of the proposition, despite her boyfriend’s insistence. More problems await when she and Desi arrive home, finding Jackie’s mother (Adriane Lennox) dropping off the six-year-old son (Danny Boyd Jr.) she abandoned when he was a baby. The child’s father recently died in a shooting.

According to the conventions of sports movies focused on an underdog, all the expected notes are faithfully played hereafter: Jackie accepts Immaculate’s proposal, and she is strenuously trained by Buddhakan (Sheila Atim) to fight against someone better, younger, and stronger. More than a comeback, it’s a last chance to resurrect as a fighter. At the same time, she must organize the chaos of her personal life. You know what to expect if you have entered the cinematic ring of Rocky, Million Dollar Baby, The Wrestler, and many others. Berry’s film takes the formula without adding much to it, though the main problem is how the personal drama reaches melodramatic proportions, distinguished by on-the-nose dialogue and predictable situations filmed with a shaky handheld camera and dark lighting. (It looks like a serious indie film, but it sounds like a soap opera.) Michelle Rosenfarb’s screenplay obstructs Berry’s work, even if as a director, she guides herself in a moving and exciting performance.

Some formulas rarely fail, so it’s not a surprise that the best parts of Bruised correspond to the training scenes, the interactions between Jackie and her trainer, and the big fight finale that provides an organic and coherent endpoint to Jackie’s emotional journey. The relationship of Jackie and Buddhakan evolves scene by scene, making room for a queer spin daringly explored but fleetingly. Atim’s performance is the second main reason to watch the movie, after Berry’s; both actresses share perfect chemistry. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same for the rest. The violent boyfriend, the oblivious mother, and the hard to reconnect abandoned son are more undercooked premises than fully fleshed characters. After directing her first film, Berry is not completely unscathed. As an actress, she remains standing.