Rasslin'

The Wrestler (dir. Darren Aronofsky). 2008. US. – OUT NOW.

REVIEW

There are a number of inspired moments in Darren Aronofsky’s latest film ‘The Wrestler’ that see the line so blurred between that of the broken show-man and fighter in the script and Mickey Rourke’s own tortured journey from stardom to ruin, that the film feels like a beautifully shot ‘MTV: Diary Of’. Yet this is no vanity project for Rourke, far from it. Rumours of on set spats between the director and the star can be believed when you see the physical and emotional limits to which this film pushes Rourke’s performance as the gentle giant wrestler, Randy ‘The Ram’ Robertson. Yet, in many ways this tension between Rourke’s depiction of a man who is just looking for a good time but is in denial about the bed he has made for himself and the rapidly closing in world Aronofsky has created around him, is the key to the films success.
Many anticipate that this poignant warts and all tour de force from Rourke will win him his first Oscar and, like Daniel Days Lewis’ winning turn last year in ‘There Will Be Blood’, it’s a film thats success is hinged on this central performance. Also like PT Anderson’s movie, that performance is never bigger than the canvas against which it’s set. Ram is very much a product of his environment, a victim of it even.
Aronofsky’s unremitting gaze complete with long takes, the camera often lingering at a distance, is matched with the gruesome detail in which we see Ram nurse his injuries. It all combines to give these larger than life characters room to breathe and the audience a chance to smell the sickening mixture of blood and desperation long after the ringside screams have died down. The raw and beautifully underplayed performance from Rourke is also complemented and facilitated by stellar turns from Marisa Tomei and Rachael Evan Wood as the women in his life who are trying to love him. There are some who will see the poster for The Wrestler and watch this movie for an 80s themed nostalgia trip into the glory days of Prime-time wrestling and hair metal, and you have a feeling that had he told his own story, the Ram would’ve liked it that way and so perhaps would Rourke. Aronofsky though, had other plans; this is no Rocky Balboa underdog tale but rather a gruelling examination of one man’s pride, confusion and despite his best efforts, ultimate fall in the fight to hold on to who he is and who he once was, now he’s at the end of his life. The wrestling might be fake, but the hurt is very real.

TA