The Wrestler (2009)

From early films like The Pope of Greenwich Village to later works such as Double Team and Get Carter, I’ve long been a fan of Mickey Rourke. Always one to bring a rugged honesty to his roles, Rourke was poised for superstardom in the late ‘80s, but it never quite materialized thanks to personal demons and a stab at a pro boxing career.

By the mid-to-late ‘90s, Rourke the boxer was no more. All that remained was Rourke the actor, hungry to reestablish himself as a box office contender. And so began his long walk down the comeback trail. At first, he took small but important parts in low-budget films such as Animal Factory and Buffalo ‘66, then graduated to more prominent roles in Spun and Sin City. Now, after a decade of portraying cross-dressers, villains and meth cooks; Mickey Rourke stars in The Wrestler. Take off your walking shoes, Mickey: you’ve reached the end of the comeback trail.

The opening credits inform us that professional wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Rourke) was a major star in the ‘80s. Now, two decades later, he’s competing at small shows for next-to-nothing, getting locked out of his trailer for not making rent, and forced to wear such humbling accessories as a hearing aid and taped-up coat. And even though he works at a supermarket loading boxes (under his real name, Robin Ramzinski), the former superstar still dreams of getting back on top, especially when a promoter suggests a rematch against The Ayatollah (Ernest Miller), Randy’s biggest opponent from his heyday .

When he’s not bleeding for the entertainment of the crowd, Randy is spending what little money he has on a local stripper named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei). She’s older and more tattooed than the other dancers, but that seems to suit Randy just fine. As Cassidy (real name: Pam) bumps and grinds in his lap, Randy talks about his glory days and shows off his battle scars from years inside the ring.

Theirs is a fascinating relationship, as the two world-weary characters are very similar. When performing for the crowd, they both become someone else, and each has reached a point in their lives when the future is looking especially bleak. Randy wants their relationship to be something more, but Pam is very clear on her rules: she doesn’t date customers. Of course, there’s nothing like a Rolling Rock and a discussion of the merits of Motley Crue to get a girl to change her mind.

It’s great fun to watch Rourke and Tomei at work. Both have been written off at various points in their careers (much like their characters), but they’ve defied their critics and continued to evolve as actors. The power of redemption is potent, and The Wrestler masterfully blurs the line between the lives of the characters and its actors.

Director Darren Aronofsky gets uncomfortably close to Randy at times, following him so intimately with the camera that audiences will feel as though they’re walking right behind him. This technique proves very effective in The Wrestler, and it often seems we’re watching hidden-camera footage of a man going about the tedium of his life. Part of this includes Randy’s elaborate regimen to stay in performance shape: tanning, getting his hair colored and styled, lifting weights, and buying a stockpile of steroids and painkillers.

The brutality of the wrestling business is exemplified in Randy’s “hardcore” match with Necro Butcher (aka Dylan Summers, a real-life wrestler who excels at taking and inflicting pain). Randy’s flesh is ripped by barbed wire, torn by forks, cut by glass, and pierced by a staple gun. An audience member’s artificial leg even comes into play at a point, and both men are a bloody mess following the conflict. Randy’s back takes on the appearance of a pockmarked battlefield, and he suffers a heart attack backstage from the strain of the match.

He’s released from the hospital weeks later, the recipient of bypass surgery. Told to give up wrestling and steroids, he reaches out to his estranged daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) in a desperate attempt to fill the sudden hole in his life. From there, the film patiently winds its way towards a climax which manages to be both ambiguous and inspiring. And when the screen finally cuts to black and Springsteen’s song “The Wrestler” begins to play, you’ll realize you’ve just been witness to the rebirth of a career.

I’m talking, of course, about Mickey Rourke. With numerous parallels to his own life, the role of Randy “The Ram,” allows the talented actor to demonstrate his range. From passive acceptance to shamed rage, Randy is constantly at war with the past. He’s a man trapped in time, blaring ‘80s hard rock through the speakers of his van and playing original Nintendo with local kids (his favorite game being one which features his wrestling persona). He longs for the applause of the crowd and the feeling that his time on Earth somehow mattered, but Rourke’s portrayal never veers into the cartoonish. The Ram is always real–always grounded–and that’s what makes it such a powerful performance.

Tomei and Wood are also at the top of their game as the two women Randy longs to be accepted by. There are no false notes in their performances, just a genuine honesty which transcends the usually sappy Hollywood fare. When they say something, you believe it. I can’t really think of a larger compliment to offer, so I’ll just stop right there.

The Wrestler is part heartbreaking love story, part wrestling movie, and part personal documentary about one man’s fading life. Mix in some stellar performances and powerful directing, and you’ve got a low-budget masterpiece which will stick with you for days. In short: The Wrestler is a winner.