The Wrestler

Yeah, he's that good.

Mickey Rourke gives the performance of a lifetime in The Wrestler. Whether that's enough to rescue the movie from an hour and a half's worth of 10-year-old indie pic conventions is entirely up to the viewer.

Everyone's heard about the performance, but for anyone still uninitiated: Rouke plays Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a broken-down wrestling star working the weekend community center circuit for cash. Clearly past his prime, Randy nonetheless is treated like royalty by the dozens of fans and handful of other performers. It's when he leaves the locker room and returns to the real world that his true, tattered existence comes into focus. This former superstar of the 80's has been locked our of his trailer, so he has to sleep in his van. He doesn't own a phone, so he has to track down the last working pay phone in New Jersey to confirm gigs. He cries to his nebbish, mean-spirited boss for more hours at the supermarket. And he spends his night pining for the love of a stripper (Cassidy, in another strong performance by Marisa Tomei) in a third-rate club. 

Even this tenuous hold on life is wrecked when Randy suffers a heart attack after a particularly brutal hardcore wresting match. Now facing the real prospoect of losing a career he rightfully lost 20 years ago, Randy reaches out to Cassidy, who in turn encourages him to reach out to his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood). 

From that set-up, Writer-Director Darren Aronofsky cobbles together a plot based loosely on every indie movie you watched in the 1990's. There's the tearful initial confrontation between Randy and his daughter Stephanie, followed by an inexplicable second meeting, which leads to a tearful reconciliation, followed by a promise and a betrayal, which leads to a tearful falling out. He woos Cassidy, the stripper with a heart of gold, who's trying hard to save up money and get out of the business. They have a meaningful conversation in a bar, which is capped with laments of better times and dancing to a song inappropriate to the mood of the movie, but conveys a happier past for both of them. There's also the steeling of resolve as displayed by Randy's decision to get back in the ring one last time, even though his doctors say it'll kill him. All the old tropes are there, and Aronofsky does nothing to freshen things up.

What works are the performances. Rourke was born to play this part. A victim of his own bad decisions and some tough luck, Rourke brings a real sense of grief for lost opportunity, lost relationships, and lost pride, and is completely open and vulnerable in his scenes with Tomei and Wood. He's probably a shoo-in for the Oscar. Sean Penn and Frank Langella both had excellent performances in Milk and Frost/Nixon, respectively, but they don't have the backstory that Rourke has. That shouldn't be a consideration, but we all know that it is.

Tomei rises to the occasion, creating a parallel to Rourke's wrestler with her aging stripper. Both characters know their time in the flesh market is about up, and both aren't sure how to proceed. Tomei has quietly put together a number of strong performances over the years, and her nomination isn't entirely unfounded, although I don't think she has a real shot at the supporting actress award this year (Viola Davis was just that good in her limited screen time in Doubt). Still, she has the look and sensibility for the role, and does enough against Rourke's animal performance to make her a credible pick.

Evan Rachel Wood, however, is completely overmatched. Playing a disaffected college kid isn't the hardest thing in the world, since disaffected college kids are overdramatic and full of shit. But Wood can't manage even this, and displays either full-on rage or total submission with Rourke. The world is still waiting for the kid in Thirteen to show up again.

Aronofsky does give the wrestling scenes love, too. The shots of Randy's matches and backstage banter have a distinct documentary feel to them, reminiscent of Beyond The Mat. The Ram doesn't seem to be a direct derrivative of any former wrestling great, though he comes across as Macho Man Randy Savage with a little lucha libre style added for effect. Aronofsky captures the backstage and in-ring action well. The few embellishments, like a steroids dealer working so openly in the back room, feel a bit forced, however.

The soundtrack in this movie is great for anyone who was alive and loved hair metal in the 1980's. It's another 90's indie trick to fill the soundtrack with "Hey, I remember that!" music, but there are still a few people out there who are suckers for a good Ratt song. Whether Round and Round and Rourke's stunning work is enough to save the movie from Aronofsky's lack of imagination is unclear. See it in the theater if you are an Oscar completionist or if you love performance above all other film elements. Wait to rent it if story is your bigger concern.