Directed by Gavin O’Connor. Starring Tom Hardy, Joel Edgerton, Nick Nolte, Jennifer Morrison, Frank Grillo, Kevin Dunn 12A cert, gen release, 140 min

YOU HAVE TO feel for Gavin O'Connor. A distinctive and worthwhile talent, the fiercely Irish-American director has not had the easiest career. Tumbleweedsearned Janet McTeer an Oscar nominations and a hatful of awards in 1999, but only after O'Connor financed the picture himself. Pride and Gloryproved a fine melodramatic vehicle for Edward Norton and Colin Farrell, yet fell through the cracks of international distribution.

So, too, Warriorarrives with minimal fanfare, no official press show and nothing like the fanfare one might reasonably expect for "its Rockywith mixed martial arts". That's a great pity: for beneath the film's grainy stock and bone fide indie credentials lurks a rollicking commercial entertainment replete with nods to cold war classic Rocky IV.

In a better movieverse, all films would, like Warrior, co-star Nick Nolte as a salty old soak lately returned from who-knows-where looking to make amends with his estranged, bitter son, played by Tom Hardy. O'Connor's screenplay, co-written with Cliff Corfman and Anthony Tambakis, runs through a familiar if pleasing pattern.

Brendan Conlon ( Animal Kingdom's Joel Edgerton) is a classic sports underdog. A popular physics teacher and a devoted family man, Brendan Conlon struggles to pay his daughter's medical bills and the nefarious villains at the local bank. An MMA tournament promising the sports' biggest-ever purse may be Conlon's only hope. But there's a complication.

Tommy Riordan (Hardy) is an ex-Marine traumatised by war and the death of his mother. He’s a lost soul. An MMA tournament promising the sports’ biggest ever purse may be Riordan’s only hope.

Warrior’s dual protagonist structure and realist tropes enliven an old standard. The fighting scenes, sadly, are cut too fast to leave a lasting impression, but O’Connor’s real skill is as an actor’s director, not an action one. He’s blessed with riches here; the perennially impressive Hardy practically out-Brandos Brando, and Edgerton doesn’t waste a single frame.