Another look at The Wrestler (2008)

What Follows is the third in an ongoing series of occasional long form essays.

The film trailer. It is a necessary evil of the film industry, in that a director’s work can not only be made or broken within the 3 minutes of expertly cut promotional footage, but it can be spoiled, it can be undersold or it could be misleadingly put across. While the obvious complaint of the negative effect of the film trailer may be through applying these “issues” to a blockbuster release that has its every twist and turn revealed six months prior to its release, for me there is no greater example of a trailer damaging a film than with Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler. While I’m not besmirching the way in which the film was sold in the trailer (effectively it was a fine trailer, revealing just the right amount) I do take heed with the portrayal of certain scenes, or even certain lines, in the context of the humble trailer.

Alas hindsight is a great thing, and with the marketing machine removed from the equation this second viewing of Mickey Rourke’s comeback feature™ proved a surprisingly more emotive experience. Common sense dictates that initial effect, by its very nature should far outweigh any effect a subsequent repeat of said event could have, but in this case that ruling is wrong. “But were does the trailer come into this?” I hear you cry. Well, for a start the exposure of certain moments in the trailer, albeit out of context created a vapidity of sorts to these key moments. The most prominent moment for me was the exchange of dialogue between Rourke’s Randy and his daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood). The scene is full of the most melodramatic of outbursts, with the self-proclamation that Randy is  “an old broken down piece of meat… and I’m alone” being used heavily to promote the film. As such initially this moment didn’t really do anything for me, but on this repeat screening it practically moved me to tears. It’s a beautiful and tender moment that jars heavily against what has (largely) preceded it. There is a similar moment earlier on, whereby Randy reveals his heart attack to Pam (Marisa Tomei), the local stripper and semi-romantic interest to Randy. Randy’s woe when he explains that the doctor told him can no longer wrestle is as tragic as anything this viewer has ever seen, and really shows off Rourke’s capability. Obviously parallels to Rourke’s real life struggle can and have been drawn to this performance, but in a way I think that plays down his talent considerably. Rourke is an actor, and he is acting. Granted he is no doubt channelling something from his past for his performance as the glorious mess that is Randy, but based on his previous work I’m not sure Rourke is as method as some would like to believe. One thing is for sure though; his speech at the end of the film is as addressed to his own career as much as it is the character in the film.

The importance of the role of Pam, the aforementioned stripper with a heart is equally as prevalent as that of Rourke as Randy. The impact of the way in which Marisa Tomei’s performance balances the picture was severely neglected upon its release, with Tomei’s part in the success of the film unfairly downplayed. Her turn as Pam lends several incidents of narrative parallels, which serve to reveal some of the underlying issues of both characters. The moments following Pam’s lap dance for Randy, in which she takes Randy’s money strike as a well-judged counterpoint to a preceding scene in which Randy receives payment for a nights work wrestling. Both characters sell their bodies for financial gain, yet the psychological reasoning and repercussions are surprisingly different from one another. Also the backdrop to Randy’s non-ability to wrestle is echoed in Pam’s failed attempts to get a dance.

The fight scenes have an incredible sense of reality about them, and the close-cut nature of the cinematography throughout these scenes lends an ironic realist slant on an act that is notoriously deemed as fake. While the “taboo” of ring politics aren’t tackled head on, they are mentioned briefly in passing and in all honesty I’m pleased that the filmmakers chose not to focus on this angle. Complimenting the gritty visuals is some great sound design, with special note going to the occasional ringing sound that strikes up when Randy takes a particularly nasty hit. Large portions of the none-wrestling scenes are seen from behind Rourke, with a third person style tracking shot. Throughout the course of the film this style becomes enjoined towards the film, and iconic of sorts. The scene in which Randy walks to the deli-counter that is obviously designed to echo the earlier scenes of him approaching the fight shows a stylistic enamour in Aronofsky’s approach to the material, with the diagetic sound of the crowd laid over the deli scene the perfect little touch, and satirical to boot.

To seemingly counteract the veracity of the wrestling scenes, and to an extent the moments in the strip club, the sections of the film that are designated as particularly quiet are very quiet. While this isn’t something immediately apparent, the combination of these moments of clarity with the mumble-laden dulcet tones of Rourke’s delivery (his trademark) lend for a hushed picture, that may even back up the religious iconography audibly. Sound is incredibly important in The Wrestler, be it in the crash/bang/wallop crunches of the actual fights or the 80’s poodle rock that litters the soundtrack, music plays a major part. The moment when Randy steps out into the auditorium for the final time, Guns ‘n’ Roses’ Sweet Child O’ Mine is surprisingly emotional, and it goes without saying that Bruce Springsteen’s title track that accompanies the closing credits is one of the most impressive film related pieces of music in quite some time.

The way in which edit of the hardcore match compliments the frame of mind of Randy is incredibly effective, and also reminds of Aronofsky’s more avant-garde sensibilities. The Passion of the Christ reference, which I found to be distracting and pointless upon my initial viewing proved to be much more appropriate this time around. Especially in light of the scene that follows (the hardcore fight and Randy’s heart attack), the analogy seemed to boost the vague similarities to the story of Christ, although admittedly the comparisons were no doubt intended with as cynical a tongue as possible.

My one gripe with The Wrestler is the way in which time flows. While its hardly a major issue, and actually works in the favour of the emotional narrative in some respects, it does feel neglected at times, and unsure of even itself.  Its nothing major but I do feel that there was a lack of scope at times, and as a result the film felt even more introverted than the plot lends itself to.

One of the biggest benefits of any second viewing is the prominence of the noticing of subtleties. Perhaps my favourite of these came in the scene in the hospital, whereby our protagonist receives his admitted possessions. Among these is the pair of wrestling tights he was wearing the night of the heart attack, and was subsequently cut out of. Rourke’s incredibly perplexed yet accepting sigh as he looks at the tights, before discarding of them in a litter bin is just fantastic. One thing that wasn’t as prevalent in The Wrestler upon first screening was just how quirky the film is. There are moments that are completely out of character for such a realism entrenched film, yet fit in perfectly. Wayne (Todd Barry), the supercilious manager of the supermarket where Randy works is a genuine quirk, with the ass-hole attitude that proved annoying initially actually standing out as yet another subtle but great performance. The scene in which Randy walks in on him watching pornography on the internet feels as fresh and improvised as anything Cassavetes ever produced, and flows equally as well. It’s hilarious too, not only in the sense that it acts as a comeuppance of sorts for the character of Wayne, but in that it exposes an aspect of their relationship that we have yet to see. It’s actually very touching, no pun intended. Top of the pile in terms of quirks (and bear in mind that wrestling is a fairly fanciful subject, re- the use of a prosthetic leg in one scene) has to be the ferret-owning fireman-obsessed woman that Randy meets. It’s a situation of genuine surrealism, and despite feeling like the tale of a drunken night out actually works. It’s a great scene, with the hilarity of the situation playing well against the contextually tragic consequences.

The ultimate fate of Randy is left undetermined, yet whether he actually lives or not (something which is the source of much speculation) isn’t really the point; he is already emotionally finished. His relationship with his daughter is over, he has (perhaps falsely) accepted that a life with Pam isn’t viable and he has come to the conclusion that he only truly exists when in the ring. Amongst the commentary of the two wrestlers dictating to each other the direction with which the fight must take, all it takes for Randy to decide his fate is an abrupt crash zoom to the place where he last saw Pam. He has lost everything and the literal is simply incidental.