10: Review - The Wrestler

‘Tis the season for Oscar-bait. Fear not. This lumbering, empty breed are easily spotted. They hail from royal blood. Perhaps, a Coen, Mendes, or Haggis. They boast impressive performances, usually from ensemble casts or faded stars, and - above all else - they’re art. So when a film comes along sending out all the signals, caution is advised. Fortunately, The Wrestler passes inspection.

Robin Ramzinski (Mickey Rourke) is a wrestling legend eking out a meagre existence working retail in small town New Jersey. Randy, as he prefers to be called, is living a charmed life. His best days are long gone. The Ram’s a walking cauliflower ear, wearing every cut and bruise as rightful badges of honour. Every weekend, he goes back for more, tangling like an 18 year old trapped in his father’s aching frame. With a good 20 years on his peers, he just keeps going. Like all good Hollywood Men, it’s all he knows how to do.

So far, so familiar, yes? There’s more. Outside the ring, our protagonist is alone. All he has left are memories of former glory, an estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), and a tentative friendship with Cassidy (the excellent Marisa Tomei), a local stripper.

From the outside, it’s easy to write off The Wrestler. The story is, well, storied. Every beat is safe and familiar. Movies like this fly or die on the strength of their particulars. Good thing Darren Aronofsky does details like Debbie does Dallas. The jittery, hand-held visuals get you there, whether lending vital immediacy mid-grapple (bright lights and brighter tights sparkle) or bringing the gloom of Randy’s Spartan day-to-day alive. This proves vital, when the gentle pace remains steady during the middle third. Dialogue is excellent. Seldom does a script, especially for a largely low-key drama - feel so natural and easy.

Despite fine work from Wood, Tomei's performance shines second brightest. When, in a very Knocked Up juxtaposition, Cassidy and Randy's paths converge, she lends the role a weight uncommon in leading ladies.

For all its flair, The Wrestler could stand to ratchet up the drama. Even when Randy vomits painfully, post-show, and winds up in hospital, the danger never grips like it should. Heart-attacks are serious business and Randy “giving up” his trade on Doctor’s advice pushes the emote button, but it’s not all bad. He’s lived it, made it to the top of the ropes and looked down; it’s a price he’s happy to pay. His straits aren’t poverty-dire. At worst, he’ll carry on working the deli counter ‘til his heart finally gives in. Hardly a finale fit for “The Ram”, but it could be worse.

Aronofsky defies conventional, William Goldman thinking. His relaxed approach to tension doesn’t hurt the film so much as it highlights a weak-spot. Every limping on-screen warrior needn’t live constantly on death’s door. It would surely have been a less involving beast had Randy been forced to go back into the ring rather than choose to, but then, we wouldn’t have a prestige picture on our hands, would we?

How you’ll feel walking out of this one depends on how much you’ve heard before going in. It’s a confident, well-crafted film, no question. Mickey Rourke is sublime, and not everything about the ending is paint by numbers. That said, it’s less the transcendent masterwork you’ve heard about than a very good keep believin’ yarn.

Watch it: because you know it makes sense.
Don’t watch it: ‘cos Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 is starting in 5 minutes and that’s, like, totally better.
Rank: Lieutenant (7/10.)

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Ian Pratt has no beef with Traveling Pants or their related Sisterhood. He just doesn't like to see Alexis Bledel's considerable charms taken up with middling fare.