Susan Granger’s review of “The Wrestler” (Fox Searchlight)
Mickey Rourke makes an amazing comeback in “The Wrestler,” delivering an iconic, Oscar-caliber performance. Describing himself as “a broken-down piece of meat,” ’80s pro-wrestling champ Randy “The Ram” Robinson (a.k.a. Robin Ramzinsky) lives in a dingy, dilapidated trailer in a squalid section of New Jersey. Paying rent precipitates a monthly crisis, occasionally alleviated by his taking a part-time job, doling out potato salad and cold cuts at a supermarket deli counter. His girlfriend is a tough-talking stripper (Marisa Tomei) and his estranged lesbian daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) loathes him. Despite his bulging biceps, his damaged heart is giving out. Nevertheless, Randy’s still a hustler, bleaching his blond mane, visiting a tanning salon, gulping steroids and fearlessly gearing up for a garish re-match with his arch rival known as the Ayatollah. Robert Siegel’s original screenplay, unflinchingly directed by Darren Aronofsky (“Pi,” “Requiem for a Dream,” “The Fountain”), reveals the barbarous fakery of the wrestling ring, along with the bruising physical toll it takes on its masochistic participants. In one bout, a fighter falls backwards off an eight-foot ladder onto barbed wire; in another, combatants are armed with staple guns. And if it doesn’t look like he’s suffering sufficiently, Randy slashes his own face with a razor. All this gruesome violence is graphically documented by Maryse Alberti’s hand-held camera. Despite occasional slips into sentimental melodrama, the picture maintains a stark, somber mood that’s best described as melancholy, evoking “Requiem for a Heavyweight.” What’s most remarkable is the re-emergence of charismatic Mickey Rourke (“Diner,” “Rumble Fish”) who’d tanked his promising screen career. Battered and bruised, insecure and alone, he embodies the courteous, gentle gladiator. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “The Wrestler” is a gritty, brutally authentic 8. It’s an American tragedy.
