Lately it seems that I’ve been reviewing movies here almost exclusively. I find myself uninspired to write as much as I have in the past here, but one thing that always gets my blogging juices flowing is a good movie.
The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke, is just that. Rourke should win the Oscar for Best Actor this year; a statement I make ignorantly, but with bravado and certainty. I don’t care who else is nominated, much like it is a forgone conclusion that Heath Ledger will win Best Supporting Actor posthumously for his Dark Knight performance. Just ship the statues out now, to all the other nominees, thanks for playing and better luck next time.
Rourke plays “the Ram” in The Wrestler, a professional wrestler twenty years past his prime, but still holding out for one last shot back into the big time.
It is sad, but it’s not as though The Wrester’s story is unique. The movie tells a familiar tale: the Ram has sacrificed his entire life for his time in the ring. After a few fleeting years on top, his body is in decline. The world of professional wrestling has used him and now only the rinds remain.
Ram was beloved at the pinnacle of his career, his whole life invested into an adolescent spectacle, nothing more than a soap opera with tights and muscles for guys. Now, all that is left is a few superficial wrestling relationships, with his deepest personal interaction coming from a stripper. Feelings of significance came from the crowd, no matter if glass and barbs have to be removed from the body afterwards. A jolt could always be had by performing his signature move in front of a crowd, but outside of the ring the wrestler has no such move. In the end, the wrestler is no different from us – as a majority the world insists that we dedicate our lives to a career and yet receive little return, save for the feeling of emptiness when it’s all over. The Ram should serve as an example of warning to anyone willing to trade superficial significance for meaningful relationships and substance.
Examining the shambles of his current state, the wrestler decides to make a go of normalcy, reconnecting with his estranged daughter and saddling up behind an Acme deli counter. In a memorable scene, we see Ram suiting up for work the way he always has: entering an arena through it’s bowels to chants and applause from an awaiting audience, only this time, the spectators that await at the end of the tunnel want pounds of lunchmeat, not wrestling. This is an underdog story, not because we root for one last return to the ring, but because the Ram is genuinely likeable, with his love for eighties hair metal and classic Nintendo. We want to see him make his life work moving forward. This time the crowd won’t be rooting for him, the consequences are real, and the odds are against the wrestler.
Note, added 2/23/09: I realize Micky Rourke didn’t win the Oscar for his performance in The Wrestler, but I maintain that he should have. Originally, I was going to say the only way he wouldn’t win was if the Academy went for Sean Penn’s “Milk” act, which of course, they did. I could go further, but I won’t. By the way, I’m not a big Sean Penn fan.
