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Rod Lurie graduated from West Point and served four years in the U.S. Army. Perfect background for a filmmaker, right?

For Lurie, the answer is a resounding "yes." His time at the U.S. Military Academy taught him the value of ethics, integrity and honesty—and in choosing to do the right thing even when it's difficult. These ideas permeate his films, including 2000's The Contender and now Resurrecting the Champ, opening in theaters this Friday.

Director Rod Lurie learns a bit about boxing on the 'Champ' set

In a recent interview with CT Movies, Lurie spoke of the importance of sticking to one's principles, no matter the cost. Those ideas ring true in Resurrecting the Champ, whose tagline almost says it all: "Based on a true story, that was based on a lie."

The true part—based on a Los Angeles Times Magazine article by J.R. Moehringer—concerns an eager young journalist looking for his big break. When the writer meets a former boxing champ who's now homeless on the streets, he knows he's found his story—but in his eagerness to tell the tale, he neglects one vital journalistic practice: Thorough fact-checking. That's where the lies come into play.

In Resurrecting the Champ, Josh Hartnett plays sportswriter Erik Kernan, and Samuel L. Jackson plays "The Champ," the former boxer now homeless in a performance that is already getting Oscar buzz. It's a story and film not just about honesty and integrity, but about father-son relationships as well.

You have a fascinating personal resume—born in Israel, attended West Point, served as an air defense artillery officer in the Army—what drew you to film from that background?

Rod Lurie Movies, man! In a way I entered that background in order to make movies. When people ask me if they should go to film school, I usually tell them, go to school to study what you want to make movies about. I had always been fascinated by history, by leadership, and by the DNA of greatness—and what better school to study that than West Point? They have a motto there: "The history we teach was made by the men that we taught." You really get a distinctive training in history and leadership and ethics. And to me, the characters I make movies about are people who are always confronted with ethical dilemmas and quagmires. So when I was 17 and went to West Point and saw those statues of those great men, I knew that was the place for me because I wanted to tell stories and eventually make movies about men like that.

You used to be a successful film critic. At what point did you decide to stop writing about films and start making them instead?

Lurie I had resigned myself to the notion that I was going to be a film critic—which is a good resignation, because some of the great writing artists of our time, like Pauline Kael and David Denby, were all film critics. But to be honest with you, I don't think I was ever very good at it. I was successful, I was entertaining, I had good ratings on the radio, but I don't think I was very good. And it got a little humiliating for me; there was a humiliation in waking up on Friday and reading these beautifully written reviews by some of the great critics and I felt saddened and cheap because I wasn't writing anything near that. I was using humor to compensate for a lack of eloquence. I realized I needed to try something different.

I've loved the movies ever since I was ten and saw Ben Hur and realized that I wanted to be involved in the film business—whether it was making them or melting butter on the popcorn. The film critic job served those needs. But when I found out I wasn't that good at it, I wanted to get out and try to make them.

Lurie and Mariel Hemingway on the set of 'The Contender'

You quickly established yourself as a master of the political film. For my money, The Contender is the finest political thriller since All the President's Men. Why do you like making political films and have you always been a political junkie?

Lurie: Thank you very much; that movie means a great deal to me. A lot of people think it's about femininity and whether there is a double standard in how we view male and female politicians, but really what it's about is how far we are willing to stand for our principles? Is that, in fact, the DNA of greatness? Are you willing to die for your principles, are you willing to kill for your principles, are you willing to be destroyed for your principles? From Christ to Mandela, the great people in history are those who have been willing to die or be crushed to support their principles. You have to be right about those principles, by the way. Hitler had principles too, and he was wrong. So it's a two-part thing—you have to be right and you have to be willing to die for it.

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