The Wrestler

The Wrestler tells a familiar tale. Throughout film history we've seen the story of a performer of some sort--whether it be professional athlete, rock star, what have you--who was once riding high but has been brought low due to various circumstances (usually of their own making) and seeks redemption. Most of the time these stories drown in their lachrymose excesses, but I was impressed that The Wrestler, written by Robert Siegel and directed by Darren Aronofsky, makes the material seem fresh.

The title character is Randy "The Ram" Robinson, memorably played by Mickey Rourke. In the Reagan eighties of hair bands, he was at the top of the professional wrestling circuit (I've heard it expressed that pro wrestling is most popular when conservatives control the government). But twenty years later, wearing a hearing aid and with a face smothered in scar tissue, the Ram toils on a low-rent circuit in dingy industrial towns, playing before small crowds in high school auditoriums. He maintains the trappings of his profession, through steroids, artificial suntans and a carefully maintained mane of hair, but also lives in a trailer and has to work in a grocery store to sustain himself.

Over the course of the film, the Ram will court a stripper (Marisa Tomei) who is something of a broken soul herself, and attempt to reconcile with a daughter (Evan Rachel Wood). These relationships are probably the most familiar aspects of the story--a stripper with a heart of gold, no matter how well-played by Tomei, is a rampant cliche--but are touching in their simplicity. What is most interesting about the film is how Aronofsky and Siegel take us into a world that I dare say most of us know nothing about. I followed wrestling when I was a kid in Detroit--the Ram reminds me of Killer Brooks, though the latter was a bad guy, and the Ram is a hero--but some of the scenes have a "you-are-there" immediacy that is fascinating. Watching the wrestlers go over their moves beforehand, like teenage girls coordinating their outfits, was funny. But even if the matches are choreographed and the outcomes preordained, it is still a brutal exercise. During one excruciating match the Ram has with a bearded hillbilly wrestler, barbed-wire, broken glass, and staple guns are utilized. I would imagine Hulk Hogan never had a staple shot into his forehead.

What really makes this film sing is Rourke. I've seen all of the Best Actor Oscar nominees, and if he wins it would not be a mistake. First of all it's a physically demanding part, as it appears he's doing most of the moves in the ring himself. But the humanity of this character is crystallized in Rourke's slight movements, the look in his eyes, his struggle for dignity as he stands behind a deli counter in a hair net and deals with a customer recognizing him, or reliving his glory days by playing his avatar in a Nintendo game with a neighborhood kid (who humors him, but also describes state of the art games like Call of Duty 4). Above all, the Ram is an essentially decent man, who treats all his fans with respect (there's a tender scene at an autograph signing show, where the aged warriors gather with the indicators of their age, such as canes and colostomy bags).

Aronofsky, who has made some fancy films like The Fountain, keeps it low-tech here, with a grainy look perfectly matching the grimy New Jersey locations. The wrestling matches are well-staged, and the film ends thrillingly with a perfect shot. This is one of the better films of the year, and Rourke gives perhaps the best performance of '08. To think back and remember him as Boogie in Diner is a bit mind-boggling, because it just doesn't seem like the same person.