Like its protagonist, very familiar yet brutally authentic and packing a hefty clout

Rating: 8/10 (26 May 2009)

For certain films, the particular package proves so impeccably assembled that it is near impossible to imagine an alternate outcome, and there are few better examples than Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler. Initially planned as a Nicholas Cage vehicle of all things, enough literature has been devoted to the poignant parallelism between the film's protagonist, former 1980s superstar wrestler Randy 'The Ram' Robinson and star Mickey Rourke and the authenticity of Rourke's casting to fill several books. And while the abundance of praise bestowed on Aronofsky's film threatens to oversell the product itself ("Witness the resurrection of Mickey Rourke" one poster quote boasts), The Wrestler remains one of those rare films which hint at a real truth behind layers of cinematic constructs, making it, if not quite "the next Raging Bull" as many would have it, a captivating and visceral watch.
Rather than challenging assertions of popular wrestling being staged, Aronofsky seems to relish them, casting an unflinchingly critical gaze upon its primarily theatrical nature, and showing his wrestlers warmly hugging before matches, talking through the fight and going out for beers afterward - a far cry from the vicious bloodlust shown in the ring. But neither does Aronofsky dismiss his chosen sport on the grounds of inauthenticity, but simultaneously finds much to appreciate and celebrate in wrestling, from the careful choreography in the ring and stage presence of the stars, to the sheer dogged determination they display towards their craft - in one particularly gruesome scene, Randy, secretly takes a concealed razor blade and slits his forehead, to finish the match bathed in a grotesque shroud of blood.
In fact, Aronofsky's both critical and celebratory treatment of wrestling proves representative of his film as a whole. Functioning primarily as a character study of 'The Ram', The Wrestler is, on the surface, a devastatingly bleak film, with Aronofsky refusing to shy away from the character's fall from glory into a truly pitiful state, his pumped up body steadily withering away, and his life reduced to solitary shambles, while still coasting by on his glory days from twenty years ago. Aronofsky intriguingly explores the harrowing outcome of what to do when the one thing a person knows how to do is no longer possible when their body gives out on them, and the pitiful search for scraps of meaning afterward - a theme paralleled by Marisa Tomei's struggling stripper. But, like many such career reflective films as John Wayne's The Shootist and Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, Aronofsky refuses to let his deflated superstar fade away, emasculated, but instead dignifies him with a final, triumphant bout of glory.
In fact, the similarities to the aforementioned westerns become increasingly inescapable as the main criticism towards Aronofsky surfaces. Much like Randy himself, the film, despite its indisputable power, feels very familiar, yet another retread of a common template seen in everything from heist or crime films (the oh so stereotypical "one last job") to the aforementioned Raging Bull, to just about any genre proving introspective on masculinity and heroism. As such, the blend between the brutally authentic and the film's playing on the familiar makes for a touch of an imbalanced and less immersive watch at times. Similarly, as paradoxical a criticism as it may seem in such a despairingly dark film, Aronofsky is equally unafraid to lay on the sentiment, and at times, while the infusion of humour and warmth into the film is often a welcome reprieve, they do come on as a little strong, as if attempting to overcompensate for the film's overall more sombre tone (the collection of soft spoken, polite and frequently hugging and cheering fellow wrestlers is perhaps a step too far away from the stereotype). But many of the film's lighter moments are far too genuinely heart-warming to object to, as Randy's impromptu playing packaged meat football with his deli customers, struggling to comprehend a young neighbourhood boy's explanations of the game Call of Duty 4 while playing an old Nintendo wrestling game, and his clumsy attempts to win back his estranged daughter among others appear merciful pinholes of hope amidst a veil of fatalism. Similarly, Aronofsky's use of jittery, naturalistic cinematography dispels fears of the film becoming overly cinematic, while maintaining a veneer of grim authenticity to the film.
While it may seem particularly ironic that the part of a former titan fading away should provide so much of a career reboot for star Mickey Rourke, the indisputable power and poignancy of his performance easily merits every last scrap of hype. Rouke is a triumph, complimenting Randy's cocky, superstar swagger with a humiliating limp, and proving just at adapt at heartbreakingly weeping over his abandoned relations with his daughter as casting a bold grin around a roaring wrestling ring - a nuanced, beautifully naturalistic and innately likable portrait of masculinity at its most stunted. Marisa Tomei is also exceptional as ageing stripper Cassidy, forced to confront her declining body as she is turned away by customers. Tomei's performance is just as willfully honest in the midst of its haunting character flaws as Rourke's, and while she may deliver less raw dramatic intensity, hers is more of a quiet, slow burning bit of characterisation which ultimately proves just as resonant. Evan Rachel Wood is also devastatingly believable as Randy's cast away daughter, with Wood providing an achingly wounded soul underneath her character's mask of indignant fury towards her father - the scenes between her and Rourke provide the vast majority of the film's most beautiful and tragic moments.
Just as mesmerizing a treatment of ageing and society's reaction to it as a hauntingly poignant character study and introspective analysis of popular entertainment, The Wrestler packs a devastating emotional punch and enough surprises to make up for its predictable narrative arc and periodic excesses of sentiment. For any audiences willing to stomach its bleak and brutal content, Aronofsky's film should be considered compelling and vital viewing.
-8.5/10