The closing night film of the New York Film Festival is always one that all the members unanimously love. Recent picks have included Persepolis, Sideways, and Caché. The Wrestler then, seemed at first to be the kind of film I thought the committee would hate—a cliché story, a silly premise, and a director selling out his style for commercial use. Until I realized what the film was really about.
The Wrestler is the fourth film from Darren Aronofsky, who is truly one of the most gifted new filmmakers. Yet unlike his first three films—Pi, Requiem for a Dream, and The Fountain—The Wrestler is a very different kind of story, and a different approach. Working from a script from Robert Siegel, The Wrestler is the story of a professional wrestler (and I professional, I mean WWF style) who was great in the 80s, but now has fallen to nothing. Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson, played by Mickey Rourke, was the best of the best, but now lives almost quietly as a bum. He still wrestles for small crowds, but his glory days are long over.
On the other side of the coin in his only friend, a stripper named Cassidy, played by Marissa Tomei. Cassidy is in a similar situation; she knows she’s aging and can’t stay in her game for long, but instead has a plan to take care of her four year old son.
At first, and from what I heard, I believed that The Wrestler was a comeback story, and the first twenty minutes had me worried. As nice as it would be, The Wrestler would have been full of clichés and silly moments, and would completely reflect the opposite of what our country sees itself, for which this story is a metaphor. Instead, The Wrestler is really a self reflection of the bottom, and what we do to survive. It really takes a look at those who live day to day, and what one does when they have fallen from grace. Randy knows he has no future, but at the same time has no other choice. Mickey Rourke, whose career reflects a lot in Randy, brings an emotionality and real physicality to the performance, and it’s a brutal, often haunting performance. He shies away from big speeches, and keeps it reserved for the most part. In one brilliant scene, we see him turn his job at the meat counter into the ring, bringing his real self out. And when he does explode, its in the ring.
Now even if the wrestling matches are staged, Aronofsky and Siegel show us the damage they do. Aronofsky never shies away from the violence, and makes us understand how far these men go for the sake of entertainment. In a lot of ways, it reflects the same sort of brutality he showed in Requiem.
But then again, The Wrestler is a radically different style for Aronosky. He goes a more documentary route, using handheld and a lot of long takes. On might think for a while that the Dardenne Brothers directed this piece. But there are shades of Aronofsky’s work here—the use of symbols with the scars on Randy and the tattoos on Cassidy, the parallels between characters, and the existential nature of the characters who must confront their primary function. It may not feel as controlled, nor as succinct, but it is truly a beautifully made film, that couldn’t be further from “shameless Oscar bait.”
The truth is The Wrestler is a story not about a triumph, but about those who scrape by. It’s a tragedy, and a wonderful end to the festival. The cold reality comes full circle.
Look for a full retrospective on the festival later this week!