"Raging Bull" is the story of more than 20 years in the life of Jake LaMotta, perhaps the most frustrated character in movie history. LaMotta does not box to defeat his opponent; he fights to vent desires he cannot articulate. He seeks pain, mostly his own.

Based on LaMotta's autobiography, director Martin Scorsese winds many themes throughout the film, some of which he first explored in "Mean Streets" and "Taxi Driver," and would later develop in "Goodfellas." LaMotta, played by Robert DeNiro in one of cinema's greatest performances, does not understand women and is racked with guilt over his relationships with them.

Scorsese, a Catholic raised during a pre-Vatican II Church, seriously considered joining the priesthood at one time, and knows guilt well, along with the intense feeling of self-hate it creates. At one point, Jake reflects, "I done a lot of bad things…maybe it's comin' back on me." "Raging Bull" presents his comeuppance.

Jake is married at the start of the film (set in 1941), but not very happily. The opening scene with his wife shows a domestic battle as LaMotta orders her around as she cooks. A steak sizzles on the stove just as their intense dislike for each other flares up. This scene sets the tone for their stormy relationship.

But LaMotta's wife is quickly tossed aside once he meets Vickie (Cathy Moriarty in her film debut). She is 15 years old, but could just as well be 30. Already a man-eater, she knows 100 times more about men than LaMotta will ever know about women. Her character is also unique in that she is the only prominent non-Italian in the film. Her platinum blonde hair draws the viewer's gaze like a magnet.

Another supporting character in addition to Vickie is Jake's brother Joey, played by Joe Pesci. "Raging Bull" launched the young actor's career, which he had almost given up on after struggling to find work. Joey is Jake's mouthpiece. Jake does not speak much, or speak particularly well, so Joey talks for him. Actually, Pesci talks enough for three or four roles, one of which could be a character who speaks nothing but expletives.

Jake and Vickie's first encounter illustrates the path their relationship will take. Vickie is on the other side of a chain-link fence, looking voluptuous in her bathing suit. She is separated from Jake, just like she will always be. They marry later, but the viewer knows at that beginning what will happen between them. Vickie, with her icy stare and cool, detached demeanor, sizes him up before he even speaks. Jake never has a chance.

As their relationship develops, Jake becomes increasingly jealous and obsessive. He constantly fears that she is with other men behind his back, which would be a difficult feat since he almost always has his eye on her. At one point, Vickie mentions that she thinks Jake's upcoming opponent is "good lookin'," Jake becomes furious. He wants to know what she means. Since he is unsatisfied with her answer, he beats the pretty boy savagely in the gruesome match. Jake glares after the fight, not at his vanquished foe, but at Vickie.

Though LaMotta is obsessed with Vickie, he also fears physical contact with her. Part of his restraint is due to the old boxing aphorism that women make the legs weak. Jake displays restraint when, in a moment of passion with Vickie, he stops, goes to the bathroom, and pours a large pitcher of ice-cold water down his drawers. As much as Jake may fear Vickie for the possible damage that could be done to his career, a more convincing argument for his steadfastness is the large cross hanging over his bed, which is prominently displayed in almost every scene in the bedroom.

Sound and speech are important in all of Scorsese's films, but they carry particular weight here. The boxing sequences immerse the viewer in ring. The sound of melons smashing is the aural source for a punch hitting LaMotta in the face. A flashbulb goes off (actually glass breaking), momentarily lighting up the screen. The dialogue flows in the way Scorsese remembers it from growing up in Little Italy, NY. People do not talk; they banter.

The film was shot in black and white, in part to keep the fight scenes from being bathed in red blood. But the result is stark and disturbing, lending the film a gritty naturalism that color would have concealed. The bloody fights are not what one is meant to remember, however. LaMotta is a boxer, but little actual sparring takes place. "Raging Bull" is not a sports movie, it is a relentless character study.

Scorsese frames the story with a sad, older, overweight LaMotta performing at a small, sleazy nightclub in 1962. Filming stopped for months so that DeNiro could put on the 70 pounds needed for these scenes. By this point in the story, nothing LaMotta says is his own — he quotes liberally from Shakespeare and "On the Waterfront," repeating Marlon Brando's famous "coulda been a contender" lament. As the audience, the only emotions we feel are pity and sadness.

The low point for LaMotta is when he's in a Miami prison after being charged with serving a 14-year-old girl alcohol in his club. The scene originally called for LaMotta to masturbate in his prison cell. Instead, Jake pounds his head and fists against a concrete wall. This is a slightly less subtle, but more effective display of frustration.

The amazing thing about "Raging Bull" is that Scorsese, DeNiro and screenwriter Paul Schraeder have taken this crude wife-abuser, presented an in-depth study of his character, and allowed the audience to walk a mile in his shoes. In the final scenes, a wave of compassion washes over us. How can we not feel for Jake LaMotta? If we can care for him, we can care for anybody.

Contact John Donnelly at jdonnel2@nd.edu

• Real fear, real life
  
• `Nuremberg' is morally relevant even today
  
• DeNiro's `Bull' only fights himself