In The Wrestler Darren Aronofsky creates one of the most amazing films in recent memory. That he does so with pro wrestling as a backdrop validates everything that Robert Evans (who produced a couple of little films you may have heard of called The Godfather and Chinatown among many others) says about the necessity of breaking rules to touch magic.
To understand the enormity of Aronofsky's cinematic achievement, its important to consider the less than glorious history of pro wrestling in American film. Perhaps the best film ever made until now with a significant pro wrestling component was 1962s Requiem for a Heavyweight. Adapted from Rod Serlings Playhouse 90 broadcast of the same name Requiem starred Anthony Quinn as an aging boxer who is at the end of his career and the end of his rope. After a final devastating knockout (to a young Muhammad Ali"still Cassius Clay at this point--who plays himself) he turns to the worked environment of pro wrestling out of necessity. The strange moral code of pro wrestling confounds Quinns character (I fought 111 fights and never took a dive") and is at the crux of the films dramatic tension.
While Requiem is a praiseworthy film bolstered by solid performances by Quinn and Jackie Gleason and features a number of prizefighting greats including Muhammad Ali, Willie Pep, Jack Dempsey and Barney Ross it is at its core a boxing film. Pro wrestling is portrayed as the lowest, most humiliating avocation for a boxer. While there are certainly those who share this critical assessment of wrestling, it does little to explain its appeal and enduring popularity.
Pro wrestling has been featured in a lot of other movies"though never well. There have been a few documentaries of merit (Beyond the Mat), some low budget films more interesting for their classic footage than anything else (I Like To Hurt People) and a ton of bad movies of varying degrees of unwatchability. Ill admit to having a soft spot for All the Marbles due to Peter Falk and its portrayal of a bizarro-world sports universe where womens pro wrestling is a big deal, but thats the only other wrestling film worthy of specific mention.
In the starring role of Randy The Ram Robinson, Rourke doesnt just hit the ball out of the park: he turns in a performance that will almost certainly take its place among the greats in film history. Before seeing the film, comparisons that critics were making to Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront, Paul Newman in The Hustler, and Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull seemed somewhat hyperbolic. After watching Rourke firsthand, such lofty comparisons not only seem appropriate but obvious"his performance leaves the viewer at a loss for superlatives. For a wrestling fan, its even more impressive due to his in-ring work. With the exception of a couple of extremely high risk spots, Rourke did all of his own wrestling and took all of the bumps himself. Its unfortunate that the Oscar voters couldnt see past their disdain for the subject matter to give Rourke the Best Actor award he so obviously deserved.
Aronofsky deftly balances both the appeal and revulsion inherent in pro wrestling. He manages to convey the gritty reality of life at the lower levels of the profession but also the appeal of pro wrestling"why men like The Ram put themselves through hell to stay involved and why hardcore fans care so much. The Wrestler succeeds on both levels, which likely accounts for the effusive praise it has garnered from film geeks who wouldnt know a headlock from a padlock as well as pro wrestling enthusiasts.
Aronofsky and Rourke manage to convey the lure and revulsion that is unique to pro wrestling and simultaneously extrapolate them to much larger truths about human existence. It simultaneously depicts pro wrestling at its best and worst and gets them both right. By putting in the 'due diligence' to get the pro wrestling backdrop right, the film allows the brilliance of Rourke's performance and the deeper thematic significance of his conflicts to shine through.
To understand the enormity of Aronofsky's cinematic achievement, its important to consider the less than glorious history of pro wrestling in American film. Perhaps the best film ever made until now with a significant pro wrestling component was 1962s Requiem for a Heavyweight. Adapted from Rod Serlings Playhouse 90 broadcast of the same name Requiem starred Anthony Quinn as an aging boxer who is at the end of his career and the end of his rope. After a final devastating knockout (to a young Muhammad Ali"still Cassius Clay at this point--who plays himself) he turns to the worked environment of pro wrestling out of necessity. The strange moral code of pro wrestling confounds Quinns character (I fought 111 fights and never took a dive") and is at the crux of the films dramatic tension.
While Requiem is a praiseworthy film bolstered by solid performances by Quinn and Jackie Gleason and features a number of prizefighting greats including Muhammad Ali, Willie Pep, Jack Dempsey and Barney Ross it is at its core a boxing film. Pro wrestling is portrayed as the lowest, most humiliating avocation for a boxer. While there are certainly those who share this critical assessment of wrestling, it does little to explain its appeal and enduring popularity.
Pro wrestling has been featured in a lot of other movies"though never well. There have been a few documentaries of merit (Beyond the Mat), some low budget films more interesting for their classic footage than anything else (I Like To Hurt People) and a ton of bad movies of varying degrees of unwatchability. Ill admit to having a soft spot for All the Marbles due to Peter Falk and its portrayal of a bizarro-world sports universe where womens pro wrestling is a big deal, but thats the only other wrestling film worthy of specific mention.
In the starring role of Randy The Ram Robinson, Rourke doesnt just hit the ball out of the park: he turns in a performance that will almost certainly take its place among the greats in film history. Before seeing the film, comparisons that critics were making to Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront, Paul Newman in The Hustler, and Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull seemed somewhat hyperbolic. After watching Rourke firsthand, such lofty comparisons not only seem appropriate but obvious"his performance leaves the viewer at a loss for superlatives. For a wrestling fan, its even more impressive due to his in-ring work. With the exception of a couple of extremely high risk spots, Rourke did all of his own wrestling and took all of the bumps himself. Its unfortunate that the Oscar voters couldnt see past their disdain for the subject matter to give Rourke the Best Actor award he so obviously deserved.
Aronofsky deftly balances both the appeal and revulsion inherent in pro wrestling. He manages to convey the gritty reality of life at the lower levels of the profession but also the appeal of pro wrestling"why men like The Ram put themselves through hell to stay involved and why hardcore fans care so much. The Wrestler succeeds on both levels, which likely accounts for the effusive praise it has garnered from film geeks who wouldnt know a headlock from a padlock as well as pro wrestling enthusiasts.
Aronofsky and Rourke manage to convey the lure and revulsion that is unique to pro wrestling and simultaneously extrapolate them to much larger truths about human existence. It simultaneously depicts pro wrestling at its best and worst and gets them both right. By putting in the 'due diligence' to get the pro wrestling backdrop right, the film allows the brilliance of Rourke's performance and the deeper thematic significance of his conflicts to shine through.
About the Author:
Ross Everett is a respected freelance writer specializing in travel, poker and sports handicapping. He is a consulting handicapper for Anatta Sports where he is responsible for providing daily free sports picks. In his spare time he enjoys fine dining, flower arranging and scuba diving. He lives in Southern Nevada with four dogs and a pet coyote.
No comments:
Post a Comment