'Wrestler'-mania

Mickey Rourke would like to thank the Academy...

Take one part Hulk Hogan and one part Death of a Salesman, shaken not stirred, and you've got Darren Aronofsky's Cinéma vérité narrative, The Wrestler, the story of an aging ring-legend whose only solace is found amidst the sweat and blood of the ring and the nourishing applause of the crowd.  Mickey Rourke, in a triumphant return from...utter obscurity?...well for anyone born later than 1980...plays an uncannily personal role as the battle scarred Randy "The Ram" Robinson which has thus far netted him accolades from the Golden Globes and a nod from the Academy (though snubbed at the SAG awards) and is likely to pencil in Rourke's name at the top of the A-list.  Girls, break out your tissues and guys, start working on some clever excuses for your watery eyes, because if this blue-collar ode to the antihero doesn't pierce your emmotional center, you're probably a self-deceived replicant on the run from Harrison Ford.  Dibs on your positronic brain.

At first glance, The Wrestler feels like just a good film, not great, but good.  However, on further reflection, like a finely aged wine, it's appeal grows more and more (or perhaps it's that cabernet I nearly finished while cooking).  Aronofsky is commited to a "fly on the wall" documentary style of shooting, and thus the narrative feels a bit loose as scenes are often dominated by the silent dialog of Rourke's character trudging through hallways or to his shack of a residence from an over-the-shoulder, third person perspective.  In the hands of the wrong director and wrong acting talent, this could have made for a very poor film (I submit this year's The Foot Fist Way as an example how not to do this), but "Wrestler" manages to escape being a compiled collection disjointed moments and becomes true cinematic genius in the way that it manages to present itself in an impecibly geniune fashion.  Unlike Doubt or Frost/Nixon, both adaptions of stage dramas and noticeably so, the story telling feels organic and improvisational, and by the end of the film, your heart will reach out toward what you feel to be a real person, not a fictional character.  I'm not sure there can be much higher praise for narrative portrayal.

While the film making is likely some of the best seen from Aronofsky, most will likely not see this movie for its "geniune" film style, but rather its "genuine" performances, especially that of the weather-worn Mickey Rourke.  Like Helen Miren's performance in the Queen, Rourke embodies his character in way that blurs the line between reality and fiction.  His role is warm, tragic, hopeful and desparing, likely infused with a little more personal note that Rourke would like to admit, echoing themes of his own struggles with substance abuse, failed boxing endeavors and, until now, a waning, if not non-existent, career.  It's a rare fusion in an acting performance of fictonal role and true life that almost seems to give Rourke an unfair advantage in the runnings for best actor, though if the Academy does not acknowledge this role, they will have attained an as yet unknown level of incompetence.  And seeing as the Academy seemed fit to deny a nomination for best picture and best director the film, my hope is rapidly fading.

Marisa Tomei also pulls in a moving, if notslightly cliched, performance as the "stripper with a heart of gold" who take interest in the aging Randy.  Evan Rachel Wood gives a slightly overacted, yet endearing and heart-breaking role as Randy's neglected daughter from a previous life.  However, even with the addition of a strangely fascinating look at the background of professional wrestling, everything else plays a timid tag-team against the ropes compared to Rourke's towering portrayal of hope and loss. 

Will The Wrestler leave you satisifed? I will concede, the possibility exists.  Will it leaves your eyes a bit puffy?  Hopefully.  Will it stir up some of the most genuine compassion for a fictional character of any film this year?  Unlike Meryl Streep, I have no doubt. (Get it? Doubt...sigh....).