Friday, January 23, 2009

Now Playing: The Wrestler

My childhood memories are full of good times involving choke slams, crimson masks and men in tights. I shouldn't even say "childhood", since I can clearly remember driving my brother home after we had had watched the unveiling of Kane. Wrestling became a permanent fixture in my life at a very tender age, with the likes of Mighty Igor and Dino Bravo (I am certain Bravo's Quebecois-flag-waving was a portent to our arrival in Canada). I was a Hulkamaniac and a Warrior Fan in grade school, a Rockers and Strike Force follower during puberty and then, finally, I embraced my dark side by forever becoming an acolyte of the Undertaker. All this to tell you that old-school wrestling holds a special place in my heart.

Enter Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. The character is some sort of amalgamation of the Heartbreak Kid, Terry Funk and Hulk Hogan. He's tailor-made to be a tragic figure in my world. [I think most wrestlers are - I mean, think about it, it's a short-lived (and short-loved) career full of hard knocks, hard drugs and hard women. It can't be easy to live that life and then become normalised when it's over.] Back to the movie: we find Randy the Ram, 20 years past his prime, in love with an off-limits stripper, estranged from his daughter, trying to squeeze the last of what's left of his fame out of his dried-up husk of a life. He has a good soul (I loved his choice of gift - it was such a classic Daddy moment), but no heart to follow through. You just KNOW this can't be going to good places, but you can't help hoping that it won't.

Rourke really is phenomenal in the titular role: he has the physique, the face and the ring of truth in his voice to have me completely believing in this man. Cassidy/Pam (Marisa Tomei, with one of the hottest bodies, still) lives a life strangely parallel to Randy: she, too, is too old to be doing what she's doing, but does it anyway, because she can't seem to do anything else. The difference lies in her shouldering of her responsibilities and his complete inability to do so. But the surprise of the movie came in the gem that was Stephanie Robinson (Randy's daughter, played very capably by Evan Rachel Wood). In two separate moments, we can see all the hopes and disappointments that children can't help but feel when it comes to their parents: grabbing his arm as they walk through an a abandoned building; repeating that she doesn't care over and over again, even while her tears are still wet on her cheeks.

There are so many great scenes where no one talks at all: Randy at a signing, looking around at his fellow attractions; Cassidy, even with all she has to offer on display, realising she can't hold their attention; Stephanie deciding to catch up instead of lingering behind. In the end, I was left wondering "is he dead?" … and the more I thought about it (as I was brushing my teeth to go to bed), the more I realised it doesn't matter: Randy the Ram has been dead for almost 20 years. Whether Robin Ramsinsky believes it or not, is a whole other story. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

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