Hola all. Massawyrm here.

As a child of the 80’s, it was almost impossible not to be into professional wrestling at some point in time. Afterall, there were toys, endless commercials and a Saturday morning TV show – which was proceeded for a while by a Saturday morning cartoon starring all of the characters as heroes and villains that drove around in the world’s most awesome monster trucks. Seriously. Only Neo-maxi zone dweebies didn’t like wrestling. And I, my friends, was no Neo-maxi zone dweebie. Hell, if the basic marketing wasn’t enough, you could always go to the movie theater and see professional wrestlers in movies – some of them actually good (They Live and The Princess Bride). But as with most cultural phenomenons, this was short lived and wrestling soon lost its sheen.

But then, despite its fall from the mainstream public eye, professional wrestling slowly made a comeback on cable television. Ratings began to escalate and Ted Turner’s TBS began a war with the long dominant WWF and began to overtake the wrestling giant with its own WCW. Talent began to get stolen left and right, storylines became more brutal and flashy, and it started to become cool to like wrestling again. I admit I found myself caught up in it – but for a completely different reason than before. This time I found myself caught up in the real behind the scenes human drama of what was REALLY going on. Internet chatrooms, newsgroups and fan pages provided a strange backstage access to the story behind the stories that included leaked schedules (which included the winners and surprise guests) stories about contract disputes and the real reasons characters would simply vanish from the show for months at a time (usually drugs, secret injuries or to do lucrative wrestling tours in Japan.) It was fascinating. And with this added new income to the industry came an interest level (and funding for) documentary filmmaking about the subject. And that’s where we the public began to get our first glimpse at the real, ugly, hidden story of wrestling.

Films like Hitman Hart: Wrestling with Shadows and Beyond the Mat exposed us to some very unpleasant truths – the worst of which was the simple answer to the question of “what next?” What happened to these guys when the lights and cameras were turned away from them for the last time? For many, the truth wasn’t pretty. People love their gladiators. But no one wants to think about a broken, old gladiator. A gladiator barely able to get through the day without a high dosage of painkillers. A gladiator not yet done being a gladiator, even though everyone else is done with him. A gladiator like Randy “The Ram” Robinson.

In The Wrestler, Darren Aronofsky does for professional wrestling what he did for drugs in Requiem for a Dream. This isn’t the pretty, glitzy, fun version of the story. It is the seedy underbelly, the horror story, the nightmare. He is going to make you fall in love with Randy only to break your heart as you watch him destroy himself. This is not a feel good movie. It is Aronofsky cleansing all the lovey dovey stuff he had going on in The Fountain. That said, Aronofsky’s greatest gift is his ability to convey his love of the characters to his audience. For all intents and purposes Randy “The Ram” is a jackass. How he’s come to squander all of his fame and fortune is a mystery. Kind of. We’re never told because we don’t have to be. We’ve SEEN that story. This is the story of him trying to get it all back while completely lacking the ability to do so.

He’s a drug abusing, not-so-bright asshole spending each day trying to relive his glory days after alienating everyone he’s ever known. The closest thing he has to a real friend is an aging, broken down stripper (played exceptionally by Marisa Tomei) at the local third string strip club whose story is a stark parallel of Randy’s own. The entire experience has humbled Randy and now he’s aiming to get on with his life. But he can’t.

The Wrestler is an elegant, brutal and simply told tale that shines a light into a very dark and unpleasant place. And it is a very different film than Aronofsky is accustomed to making. Up until now, Aronofsky was best known for making incredibly stylish films. From Requiem’s quick, insane editing to The Fountain’s beautiful, psychedelic expressions of time and space, the LOOK of an Aronfsky picture was often as important as the content. Not so here. In fact, if there is one single visual or sequence that sticks irrevocably in the mind of the viewer, it will be the near unending scenes of Mickey Rourke’s back. Many sequences of the film are told in a voyeuristic “over the shoulder” manner exactly like the famous Bruce Willis apartment walk shot from Pulp Fiction. And if there’s anything that bugs members of the audience or finds itself joked about or ripped into about this film, it will be this. But when the reason for these shots finally pays off, it pays off big by putting us squarely in the head of Randy and illustrating the utter tragedy of his existence in one, perfect 20 second shot.

But the film isn’t going to play to everyone. It’s a slow, brooding film that certainly isn’t going to inspire cheer. It’s not a triumph of the underdog picture. It’s a slow, sad decline into the pit of human despair. That’s not to say it is a depressing film, or like Requiem before it a film many people think is incredible but never want to watch again – but it certainly isn’t the feel good film of the year. It is Hea-Vy.

That said, I thoroughly loved it. The further away I get from it, the better it becomes. And I am beginning to get eager for another screening. I want to see this again and drink in the richness of Randy’s story. Rourke’s performance in this film is incredible. And while I’m not certain that it is the revelation that others are referring to it as (he’s been pretty damned good for a long time), I think it is the perfect culmination of his life’s work, a sister film to JCVD in which he is offered the opportunity to lay his soul bare about the highs he once achieved and how hard he now has to struggle to recapture even a small part of what he had. Some may contend that this is his single best performance, and while I personally disagree (I think he gave his career best in the little known Animal Factory in which he was almost entirely unrecognizable) I have to cede that this is easily in his top five. He lays everything out on the table in this and clearly holds nothing back. While I’m not ready to say he’s an Oscar shoo-in, I can say he’s a dark horse for the fourth or fifth slot – and no one’s going to scratch their heads if he gets it.

This is the Aronofsky film for people disappointed with The Fountain. Those that love the dark, raw grittiness of his other films will find this a welcome return to form that never once sounds like he’s repeating himself. It is every bit as profound as his previous efforts without all the bells and whistles. There are those that will find it to be his finest film. I’m still torn and need to see it a few more times before I decide quite where to place it in his filmography. Either way, it’s a powerful film that is every bit as good as you’ve heard. This comes HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.

Massawyrm

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