The Wrestler

Don't know what you got til it's gone...
- Cinderella

Early on in The Wrestler -- the new film from 39 year old director Darren Aronofsky -- there's an odd encounter in a strip joint between Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) and one of her regular customers Randy "The Ram" Robinson, the wrestler of the title played by Mickey Rourke. Without preamble Cassidy starts quoting from Isaiah 53..."But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." Has Cassidy -- who we later learn is just Pam -- been reading her Old Testament? No. She's seen The Passion of the Christ and has apparently been reminded of it by seeing the scars on The Ram's face. Randy's only response to her recounting of Christ's sufferings is that He must have been a tough guy. It's obvious that Aronofsky and screenwriter Robert Siegel want to say something about the redemptive power of suffering, but for suffering to be redemptive it needs to have a point. I didn't leave this film thinking "what a sacrifice!" I left it thinking "what a waste!" Further, I think Aronofsky intends for us to watch his film within the context of previous cinematic provocations on the subject of violence (Fight Club and Gibson's Passion being two examples that come to mind). The latter purpose is made explicit in one lengthy, hard-to-watch sequence involving barbed wire, shards of glass and a staple gun. This is professional wrestling after all, where the competition is phony, but the violence and scars are not.

I didn't like this movie as much as I thought I would. I was strangely unmoved despite the amazing performance by Mickey Rourke, every bit as good as advertised. Surely Rourke's well documented personal demons and past career as a pro boxer fueled his absolute commitment to the role (Nicolas Cage was originally attached). It's as impressive as Philip Seymour Hoffman's Oscar-winning portrayal of Truman Capote a couple of years ago, and older film buffs will inevitably gauge it against De Niro's portrait of self-loathing and self-destruction from 1980. Yes, The Wrestler is Raging Bull in tights. In fact, I feel like I've seen this movie many times before, which lessened it's impact. One could argue that this same director has made this movie before. I'm thinking of Aronofsky's Requiem for a Dream (2000), a harrowing depiction of drug addiction that I watched one Friday evening in Baltimore with a noisy group of Johns Hopkins students. They weren't noisy when the film ended. It was more like stunned silence.

The Wrestler continues a recent trend of films shot in decaying environs of the Northeast -- locations that scream over the hill. American Legion halls, trailer parks and seedy taverns. Places that time's forgotten. Not quite the city and not quite the suburbs. New Jersey, the ugly side, is a distinct character here. Many scenes are shot hand held, often with the camera stalking Rourke in long tracking shots. One of the best scenes takes place in one of those blue-collar bars, as the two lost souls Randy and Pam gingerly investigate the possibility of a genuine human relationship, one that surmounts their professional identities. Over a couple of Rolling Rock's they discover a mutual love of 80s metal bands, and relive the good old days before that killjoy Kurt Cobain ruined rock and roll. It's one of the few lovely moments in the film. It was fun hearing the soundtrack which features relics of my adolescence I hadn't heard, or thought of, in years. Like The Ram's signature track "Bang Your Head" by those metal health pioneers Quiet Riot. The music is well chosen, but I also liked that some of the most emotional scenes are played absolutely straight, with no musical attempt at audience manipulation. In addition to Rourke, there's fine acting from Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood.

No doubt Darren Aronofsky is one of the most talented American filmmakers working today, but he's managed to make a film I have no desire to experience a second time. Roger Ebert recently expressed well why I love and value movies, even the dark ones. Ebert: "Movies come closer than any other art form in giving us the experience of walking in someone else’s shoes...They expand us, they improve us, and sometimes they ennoble us." Once in a while I come across a film like this one, that though excellent in craft, fails to meet those tests. I can't recommend it.