The Wrestler
With all the turmoil going on in the stock market recently, perhaps Darren Aronofsky’s latest film The Wrestler offers some valuable insight, at least at the macroscopic level, as to what happens to an American ego pushed to the extremes. What appears on the surface as a gritty and hard look at the underworld of professional wrestling, is actually glazed with a sweet coat of nostalgic Americana; ah, the late 80’s – big Jersey hair, thrasher music, good cocaine, unregulated titty bars, and pro wrestling. Wait – wrestling?! Yes, wrestling! It’s as American as apple pie – and if you weren’t fortunate enough to be exposed to the WWF (World Wrestling Federation) when growing up, then obviously you missed out on an important trailer trash tradition and you need to go see this film to acculturate yourself.
Mickey Rourke plays the wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson. Once so famous that action figure toys were created in his image – now so poor that he has to work part-time as a storeroom stocker. Randy refuses to go into retirement. Caught in the grisly world of independent wrestling, he’s a tragic hero who pumps his body with steroids, bleaches his hair, and cuts himself in the ring to appease his bloodthirsty audience. When you think Randy has reached the bottom, life just continues to get worse. A heart-attack forces him to look at the emptiness in his life, and he tries to re-connect with his 22-year old daughter Stephanie played by Evan Rachel Wood, failing again miserably. In a last attempt to find love and turn his life around, he reaches out to an exotic dancer named Cassidy, played by Marisa Tomei. But once again Randy is the looser, even the heart-of-gold stripper won’t allow herself to fall for the beast.
Does all this sound a little clichéd? Well, that’s because it is. The screenplay, just like my review, is full of them. 
First, there’s the tragic hero of “The Ram” written like a textbook character study of Achilles or Odysseus – the sin of hubris, or excessive pride, results in defeat and a fruitless journey. Randy, although aware of his own demise in a dramatic irony sort of way, can’t change his own behavior – he’s destined to fall and fall and fall – over and over again. Which leaves the audience feeling nothing more than one-dimensional pity for this poor creature. Unfortunately, the obstacles he faces pale in comparison to conquering Troy or sailing around the world for seven years in search of home. His obstacles are too easy to overcome and just plane predictable – win your daughter’s love back and win the hooker’s heart. Ok, even if it’s not Greek literature, it’s still bad writing.
Another example: the daughter is a lesbian for Christ’s sake! She’s turned her hate for her father into hate for all men – is this psych 101? And don’t even get me started on the cardboard characterization of Cassidy the stripper. I bet you’ve already guessed that she has a kid she loves more than anything and she’s only stripping to take care of him and move to a better neighborhood – yeah right! Obviously, Robert D. Siegel (screenwriter) has a hard time really understanding the complexity of women.
On a different note, the directing of this film is actually really good and I do hope that Darren Aronofsky is at least recognized with a nomination from the Academy. The choice to shoot in what looks like video with a hand-held camera and fluorescent lighting gives the film an unpolished look that makes the grim setting even more believable. The cinéma vérité style mirrors the soul of the subject matter; a more polished filmmaking technique would not have had the same effect. Even more than technical accolades, Aronofsky deserves applause for creating an omniscient point-of-view that critiques, both good and bad, the extremes of the American dream. From the deli counter scene where our tragic hero is forced to participate in the ugly world of consumer capitalism as a common worker, catering to the demands of idiotic management and an even more idiotic proletarian class, to the final scene when Randy “The Ram” gives his heart, his soul and his life to that dream, flying in mid-air against the back drop of an American flag. Aronofsky’s The Wrestler is a tributory love story to an America that once was and will never be again.
Certainly, Mickey Rourke’s portrayal of Randy will also get an Academy nod. Rourke’s three-dimensional characterization is so good that you can never, even for a second, identify an “acting” moment. Rough, tough and muscularly on the exterior, Rourke must have done some intense Method Acting to get his body as pumped as it is. Physically, he looks like an aged Hulk Hogan. The bathroom scenes where he’s shooting steroids into his ass makes one wonder if Rourke didn’t actually do the same; it’s that believable! However, unlike most Hollywood actors, Rourke doesn’t stop at the mere physical portrayal of the character, the emotional and spiritual side are equally refined. We are not left with a mere beefy portrayal of an unintelligent beast. Rourke’s Randy is simple yes, but he is also aware – aware of what is going on around him, aware of how miserable his life is, aware of his mistakes, and aware of his own tragic destiny. Rourke does for “The Ram” what DeNiro did for Jake La Motta in Raging Bull. It’s a shame the same can’t be said for the rest of the cast.
In conclusion, The Wrestler is a film worth-watching. However, due to the poor quality script, low quality shooting technique (albeit intentional), and average acting ability of the majority of cast members, I wouldn’t waste my $15 on seeing this one on the big screen. It’s a video rental on a rainy night – maybe that’s a bit harsh. I’ll say it’s a video rental on a cloudy night with some of your best buds and a 12 pack of Budweiser. Of course, depending on your orientation, that could be more like heaven than eating cavier and sipping champagne. You decide.
