This review will not offer a hypothetical opinion of how Nicolas Cage in the lead role would have affected The Wrestler had he been cast, as director Darren Aronofsky intended. Instead, this review will glorify the down-and-out actor who was given this opportunity.
Mickey Rourke is Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a retired professional wrestler who was a big deal in the '80s but now performs in New Jersey community centers. Confronted with a heart attack, Randy is advised by his doctor he may die if he doesn't give up wrestling. He chooses to spark a relationship with Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), a stripper who's also past her prime, and make amends with his estranged daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood).
Media outlets everywhere have accurately described Rourke's awe-inspiring take on this ragged, tragic figure as a figurative body slam. But the film should be remembered for more than its display of powerhouse acting.
Instead of dodging convention, it finds a way to make something personal and powerful out of a tried-and-true formula. There is no pile-up of extraneous characters, but rather three key roles and several intimate one-on-one conversations. People like Randy's boss and wrestling colleagues blur in and out of his life -- Cassidy and Stephanie matter most.
By informing the viewer of Randy's health problems from the get-go, the film establishes a deadline for a man at the end of his rope putting his life in order before it's too late.
From Randy and Cassidy shopping for a present for his Vampire Weekend-listening daughter to Randy's part-time stint at a deli counter, the film is loaded with quiet, significant moments.
We are presented a rarely-seen glimpse at the artifice behind choreographed wrestling fights. The self-inflicted brutality invoked by staple guns and razorblades on the mat account for some of the more gruesome moments.
The Wrestler is tied together by an intensely honest script penned by Robert Siegel, the former editor of The Onion, and subtle, deft direction from Darren Aronofsky.
Aronofsky never goes far from Rourke's domain whether he's shooting from behind his back with a grainy hand-held camera or zooming in on his face to reveal scars or tears.
There is a clear skill to the way the filmmakers humanize a man in not the noblest or most respected of athletic professions. The film understands Randy is a fallen contender -- not a boxer or a baseball player but someone who "sits on other dude's faces," as put by his boss.
The Wrestler is a profound sports film in its own league apart from Raging Bull, visually stimulating from the opening images of working-class grit to the stirring final shot.
The story is touching, unassuming and compelling, and the casting of a long- suffering member of the Hollywood food chain incites a meta exercise in acting mastery.
Grade: A
