Page 6
Arts
The Clarion | January 23, 2009
SllX, DRUGS, AM) Tllli; RAM JAM
How Mickey Rourke and Darren Aronofsky have found the
formula to make you cry over pro wrestling
by Joseph Chilton
Editor in Chief
Here is a brief demonstration of the im
portance of variables.
The equation: Take washed up 80’s star
(x). Add a plot tilled with guys juicing
up on steroids and beating the hell out of
each other Throw in an aging stripper as
a love interest and an estranged lesbian
daughter
The result: If (x)= Corey Haim- a straight
to the $5 bin at Wal-Mart debacle. If (x)=
Mickey Rourke- a career resurgence.
Maybe it’s because Rourke’s own per
sonal struggle over the last two decades is
closely akin to that of his character, Randy
“The Ram” Robinson, in The Wrestler Or
maybe he’s just that great of an actor What
ever it is, Rourke is perfectly cast for the
task of eliciting sympathy for a character
whose personal choices warrant none.
Randy has lost everything; family, health,
career, self-respect; yet he still feels a
calhng to the same ring that has been the
catalyst for his self-destruction.
Randy’s heart can no longer take pun
ishment it endures on weekends while
pandering to nostalgic fans at small town
civic centers and VFW halls. His daughter
hates him because his Def Leppard-esque
lifestyle of partying hard in dingy strip
clubs after shows excludes her It enrages
Randy to be recognized at his side job (shc-
ing meat at a deli) as “The Ram.” And yet
the high-pitched cadence of a crowd haunts
Randy to the point where he joneses for a
few more rounds between the ropes.
The film has already brought home two
Golden Globes, and is sure to make out
quite nicely by the end of awards season.
And it deserves all the hardware it gets, as
gritty handheld shots succeed in making the
audience feel that they are part of a Jersey
underbelly revolving around strip clubs,
syringes, spandex.
I’ve never been a fan of pro wresthng.
I always thought that names like “Macho
Man Randy Savage” were compensating
for something, especially since these guys
spent their time rolling around
on a mat with other half-naked
dudes.
Which is precisely why I am
now convinced that The Wrestler
is brilhant. I could still care less
about the WWE, but at least now
I have some understanding of the
phght of these guys.
Rourke is eerily close to being
the acting version of a Randy
“The Ram.” His divorces, plastic
surgeries and poor career choices
have been scrutinized closely
by the media since the piimacle
of his career over two decades
ago. He knows the pain of fall
ing from grace, and that comes
through clearly in his portrayal
of the downtrodden grappler who
wants nothing more than two travel back to
1987 and crank it up to II one more time.
(Sidenote: A line that Rourke delivered with
startling certainty: “The eighties fucking
ruled man! Until that pussy Cobain came
and fucked it all up...I tell you something,
I hate the fucking nineties.)
Ram-jamming people off the ropes;
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hair metal; lap-dances from 45-year-olds.
These are all things that most sane college
students will normally try to avoid. But
they are strangely what make The Wrestler
endearing- the making of the repulsive to
be interesting being the major sign that this
movie has factored in the right formula.
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