6 out of 6 people found the following review helpful:
A lament on loneliness, desperation and emptiness
Daniel Pollard from Manchester, England,
17th June, 2009
Darren Aronofsky is a director with a very similar style to Quentin Tarrantino, he makes films without structure, with style over narrative, gimmicky and without properly rounded characters. All of these traits are evident in his previous work, from the distant and soul-less Pi, to Requiem for a Dream, the over styled addiction drama for the MTV generation and finally to the portentous Fountain, where Aronofsky attempts to convey love and death in three different ages of time, in a pseudo meaningful and new age fashion. Suddenly, he has come of age, making a proper film with proper characters, no gimmicks and a solid narrative. The Wrestler is his best work by far. The film laments the loneliness, desperation and emptiness of being an ageing wrestler stuck in the 1980s, but living in the 21st century. His body is degrading and he’s had a heart attack, his daughter no longer speaks to him and his only meaningful relationships are with a stripper in a dingy back-street bar, and the crowd who watch his weekly wrestling matches. Their relationships are similar, both wrestlers and strippers sell their bodies and are viewed as pieces of meat, it’s no wonder the two find solace in each other. Our hero, or anti-hero, the wrestler is played by Mickey Rourke. He brings a certain unglamorous despair to the role, maybe mirroring his own career demise. After being in the out-of-work wilderness for so many years, then returning to play a character who is on screen the whole time, is no easy task. Rourke is absolute quality and should have won the 2009 Oscar for best performance, even his body and face give the impression of a wrestler who has been in the ring for too many years. The supporting cast is equally excellent, especially Marisa Tomei as the stripper and Evan Rachel Wood as the wrestler’s long suffering daughter. Added to the exceptional cast is the documentary realist feel, helped by the use of hand-held cameras, they allow the audience to get up close and personal with the wrestler in his filthy trailer, as well as follow him around as he works in the hopelessly mundane supermarket, with its despicably rude manager. Furthermore, the scenery of poverty stricken trailer parks, dilapidated ballrooms, deserted wind-swept beaches and soul-less out-of-town supermarkets reflect the hopelessness of the Wrestler’s mood. Aronofsky directs with a new found maturity, especially in the climactic scene. Our ant-hero delivers a poignantly touching speech, the crowd are his only family, they are the only ones who truly care about him. The Wrestler only gets truly, emotionally hurt in the real world, his daughter deserting him, the stripper wanting to keep their relationship professional and his humiliation working on the deli counter of a supermarket. He climbs the side of the ring to deliver his trademark move, salutes the crowd, wipes the tears from his eyes and the film finishes in a beautifully unsentimental moment.