Theatrical Review of The Wrestler

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"Fuckin´ 80´s man, best shit ever."

"You bet your ass, man. Guns ´n Roses fuckin´ ruled."

"Crew! Def Lep!"

"Then that Cobain pussy had to come around and ruin it all."

"Like there´s something wrong with wanting to have a good time."

"Let me tell you something. I hated the fucking 90s."

"90´s fucking sucked."

"The 90´s fucking sucked."

April 6, 1989. Randy "the Ram" Robinson fights the Ayatollah in front of a sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden, and wins. RAM JAM!

Does it get any better than this?

The answer for Randy is a resounding no.

Fast forward twenty years. Fame and fortune have peeled away to leave Randy an "old broken down piece of meat" who lives in an old broken down trailer in New Jersey. Randy used to take the ring against the Ayatollah and Mr. Magnificent in the best venues professional wrestling had to offer. Now he works the semi-pro circuit, powered by the last fumes of his fading reputation and sharing the bill with Paul E. Normous and the Funky Samoans.

But Randy still greets the world with a smile, or at least as much of a smile as Mickey Rourke can muster with his surgically altered face that´s as smooth and taut as leather. Even working a thankless job at the supermarket during the week and sitting on guy´s faces on the weekends, Randy carves out a tiny niche in a world that has passed him by.

One of his lifelines is a stripper named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei, who just gets more beautiful with each film) the only person willing to offer a sympathetic ear, or a pair of jiggling breasts. She tries to keep the relationship strictly professional, but Randy´s hardscrabble charm eventually wins her over. They have a lot in common. They´re both performers who have used and abused their bodies for years and both have a deep and abiding nostalgia for the 80´s.

But nostalgia is a corrosive force in "The Wrestler." Randy is permanently suspended in the 80´s. He sells VHS tapes of his old bouts, still has a Nintendo and, brace yourselves kids, he makes his calls from a pay phone. By retreating to an idealized past, Randy doesn´t have to acknowledge the present or the mistakes he has made since beating the Ayatollah from the top of the ropes with his patented Ram Jam move.

The greatest mistake of all is his abandonment of his daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) who he seldom even thinks about until a heart attack after a match leaves him worried about his legacy. His awkward attempt to reconcile with Stephanie powers the film´s second act and hints at a dark side that Randy is unable or unwilling to acknowledges. Why did he leave Stephanie, and why do neither of them even mention Stephanie´s mother?

Whatever skeletons Randy is hiding remain in the closet. You have probably heard a lot about Rourke´s "comeback" performance, and it is all true. He creates an irresistibly likable character who lights up the screen both in and out of the ring. The words "Mickey Rourke" and "lovable" are rarely paired, but Randy "the Ram" Robinson is undeniably one of the most appealing film characters of recent vintage. It is difficult to imagine a viewer who doesn´t root for this big palooka.

The script, written by former "Onion" editor-in-chief Robert Siegel, shifts tones seamlessly between melancholy and humor. And make no mistake – "The Wrestler" is one funny movie. In one of the film´s best scenes, Randy approaches his new job behind the deli counter with dread that any of us who have worked a similar position can understand. But The Ram makes lemonade out of this lemon of a job, joking with the customers and flirting with the ladies. Female customer: "I want 8-piece (chicken). That´s 2 breasts – gimme two big breasts." Randy: " That´s what I want. Two big breasts – and something with a brain." RAM JAM!

The wrestling scenes are simply electric. Aronofsky films them with the now familiar "shaky cam" but unlike in the "Bourne" films or "Quantum of Solace," he doesn´t chop the scenes into sub one-second edits. By holding back a bit from the action and letting the shots breathe, Aronofsky gives the scenes not only a kinetic energy but a tangible sense of reality. The drop kicks, the shattered glass, and the staple guns have a real impact, as if we´re witnessing an actual event. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that cinematographer Maryse Alberti is a veteran of numerous documentaries. If Alberti and editor Andrew Weisblum don´t receive nominations, the Academy will be… well, as irrelevant as ever.

The level of detail observed is also fascinating. The camera, often tracking from behind in semi-creepy stalker mode, follows Randy through his daily preparations. It´s hard goddamned work looking so pretty. He needs to get his hair highlighted, and spend an hour in the tanning bed. Before a bout, he slices up razor blades and stashes them in his elbow bandages to be dug out and used later to give the fans the blood they want to see.

And ultimately that´s what Randy is all about. Putting on a show for the fans. He feels like a failure in real life, but inside that ring, there are always cheers though they´re not as loud as they used to be. It´s the only place he feels truly alive even if it means risking death. Perhaps this is Randy´s ultimate tragedy, but then again not everybody has a place of sanctuary, let alone one as spectacular as the ring.

It´s tempting to describe "The Wrestler" as a departure for Aronofsky, but we can´t really make that judgment for a man who is only directing his fourth feature film. What we can say about "The Wrestler" is that it succeeds as a character study, as a drama, as a comedy, and as a sports film. This is a remarkable achievement by any standard.

And there´s one more thing the movie gets right.

The 90's fucking sucked.

RAM JAM!

A 9/10 on the DVDTown scale.

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