The Wrestler

I've never liked Mickey Rourke and the films of Darren Aronofsky usually leave me cold - with the exception of The Fountain - so I haven't been particularly eager to see this film. Throw in the subject of wrestling and it's a real turnoff. Fortunately the film recognizes the inherent absurdities in (over) grown men wearing spandex garppling with each other in front of a baying audience, while also having a clear-eyed approach to the cost, both physical and emotional, especially for those past their prime. Randy spends as much time on his appearance as any woman - working out, dyeing his shaggy mane blonde, tanning and shaving his body - all in order to live up to his public image. This was fixed during his heyday in the 80s but there's no mistaking that he's getting old. He limps, wears a hearing aid and seems to need support bandages all over his body, not to mention taking a pharmacy's-worth of drugs. Then he has a heart attack. From that point, we're in familiar territory: will Randy risk his health (and possibly his life) for one last shot at glory via a rematch of his most famous bout?
Emotionally he's also a mess, long estranged from his daughter and harboring an affection for ageing lap dancer Cassidy. You might think redemption is in the offing and it briefly appears to be. Randy gives up wrestling to work on a deli counter, hunts out his daughter and attempts to start a relationship with Cassidy. However, Cassidy keeps him at arm's length while his daughter finally cuts off all ties with him after yet another let-down. The only bond that's ever worked is the one Randy has with his fans, his audience. He's a performer, just like Cassidy, only she sees it as a means to an end, finally reclaiming her real name and breaking free. For Randy it *is* the end - and it may just be precisely that.