Murderously dull stretches of dialogue suck most of the fun out of this sloppy drama about a country boy (Channing Tatum) trying to make a buck in the big city by moonlighting as an underground prizefighter. To be fair, they didn’t call the movie Talking. The bare-knuckle smackdowns at the heart of Fighting are crowd-pleasers: spasms of clumsy grappling and butcher-shop sound effects that all but knock the wind out of you. And Tatum, a putty-face hunk with a neck like a ham hock, shows an offhand ease on camera that would’ve come in handy if he were playing an actual character instead of a life-size Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot. C?