In a nutshell: Between The Rock and a
Seconds out on Aronofsky’s latest, and already big Mickey Rourke is on the ropes. An opening montage of posters and pics shows us he used ta be a contender, but since ‘That Cobain pussy’ came along and ruined music in the 90s, he’s busy getting thrown out of his trailer (Incidentally, is trailer living really that bad? I saw some once and they were pretty big, some even had hot tubs…) and getting moaned at by his pencil neck boss, while former arch rival ‘The Ayatollah’ makes a good living selling used cars. Rather than the “over the hill champion/underdog makes good” flick you might be expecting, we get a nicely drawn character piece, watching ageing fighter Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson getting back in the ring while his body (and his life) slowly crumble around him.
Being Aronofsky, it’s not short on style or subtext of course, so we get smooth segues into mock-doc style backstage, giving a nice insight into the kind of personality that would put on spandex, change their name to Rufus E.Normous, and get hit on the head with chair for a living, while the parallels between Randy and ageing stripper Cassidy (a gratuitously naked and game but slightly-out-of-her-depth Marissa Tomei) are drawn with pretty heavy lines. That said, it’s pretty restrained for the director, and while we get a few of those trademark facial close-ups, the editing is laid back and builds a melancholy atmosphere throughout.
The whole thing seems to be about glamour vs reality, with some nicely washed out color tones in “The Real World” outside the ring, and when Ram pursues his dream of glitter, money and fame, he gets a heart attack, an estranged family and dwindling receipts for his efforts. Tomei is getting older, and her ‘career’ is ending too, but she has the lasting comfort of a young son (and a pretty nice looking house) for her efforts.
Maybe it’s a treatise on the opposing faces of the American Dream, what it means to different people, or how it’s changed over time (and I can hear endless academics sharpening their typewriters already), but it still works on a personal level, and is enough to make gents of a certain age wonder if their band will really ever make it, and even consider moving out of their parent’s basement. Throughout, Rourke showboats, but is remarkably convincing, and even though things are heavy handed (Cinderella’s “Don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone” being particularly cringeworthy) this is pretty forgivable in a wrestling movie.
The soundtrack gets in on the act, with the noise of roaring fans accompanying Ram on his way to a day job in a deli making it clear that it’s tougher to swallow your pride than get clotheslined on a daily basis, and the hard rock does fit in nicely (Kudos to Accept’s “Balls To The Wall”).
Ultimately, it could be about life, death, immortality, and all that heavy stuff. Or it could be about how sad it is that the Ultimate Warrior has returned to parts unknown. Whatever, if you like your drama deep and just the right side of indie, check it out.
