WE KNOW. It’s supposed to be an Immigration Law Blog. But every so often We (well, really, Harley) have to post about nonlegal topics. So sue us. And it IS immigration-related, an American film funded by a French company, having received huge acclaim in Venice and Toronto. Now it’s migrated back home. AND THE MOVIE TAKES PLACE right near our office in New Jersey.
This one’s dedicated to two people:
Richard Schadle Doherty, Esq., who for a decade has encouraged Harley York to compose pieces that compete with his epics. AND the late “Nature Boy” Buddy Rogers, Heavyweight Champion of the World in the early 1960s, whose advice appears at the end of this post.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As far as I am concerned, Mickey Rourke has joined the list.
Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler lived up to the buzz. Rourke firmly deserves an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Randy “The Ram” Robinson.
For the first time, the tragicomic independent wrestling business is depicted exactly as it is, much like the bittersweet Boogie Nights portrayed the porn industry. But where Boogie Nights was a great ensemble piece, The Wrestler is all Mickey Rourke. The Ram desperately clings to his past, willing to do whatever it takes to hang on, despite tremendous physical and emotional pain.
The character of Ram is devastatingly close to Rourke’s real life persona. A big star who became an even bigger screwup. After all, we are talking about a guy who turned down starring roles in The Untouchables, Beverly Hills Cop, Silence of the Lambs, Rain Man, 48 Hrs., Highlander, Platoon, and Pulp Fiction.
Rourke did all of his own stunts in The Wrestler but one. He insisted. After all, the professional wrestlers in the film had no stunt doubles. And he bled plenty, too.
More important than his physical performance, it is Rourke’s ability to make you believe how real The Ram is. Randy lives in a world that most see as nonsensical entertainment for children and idiots who eat dog food to save money to buy tickets, yet he lives for that world because it defines him.
Ram misses the thousands of voices who once chanted his name in unison, so he settles for the cheers of his few remaining fans.
Rourke claims to have gotten injured more during the weeks that he worked on the Wrestler than he did in eleven years of boxing. As a professional fighter, he broke his nose, ribs, and cheekbone. In playing a pro wrestler, he ended up needing three MRIs.
The film is about as far from a Hollywood blockbuster as one might imagine. A modest commercial response would be expected. But you never know.
Awarded Best Film at its premiere at Venice, the oldest film festival in the world, The Wrestler has been getting tremendous coverage as a movie in which Rourke will regain his stardom, much like Pulp Fiction did for Travolta.
I concluded it was well worth forty dollars to attend closing night at The 46th Annual NY Film Festival at Lincoln Center, since October 12 was my one and only chance, until the American theatrical release of The Wrestler in two months.
Lincoln Center and South Philly’s ECW Arena attract vastly different crowds. I hazard a guess that less than 27 of the 2700 people in the audience at The Wrestler two nights ago have set foot in both venues. I am proud to say that I am one of them. A few of you may have viewed ECW matches at the infamous Arena in its heyday (94-97). The place was like the CBGB’s of wrestling. One unbelievable scene in this movie was filmed there.
The event was very surreal. I sat in a Chute Boxe Brazilian Fighting Team hoodie, surrounded by Manhattanites in their fine evening attire. A notable exception was a fellow and his wife, who proudly wore matching tee shirts honoring the late Chris Candido.
The tenor of The Wrestler is sad, interspersed with bits of humor. Its tale of a man who endures agony every day for a few minutes of glory on Saturday nights in tiny gyms speaks to you on a level that is eloquent and touching.
Darren Aronofsky, the director (who I discovered is my age), spoke before the film was shown. He noted how humbled he was, a kid from Brooklyn, addressing a packed Avery Fisher Hall. The director praised his screenwriter, Robert Siegel, who joined him at the podium.
Evan Rachel Wood, Marisa Tomei, and finally, Mickey Rourke walked on to the stage, to much applause. A standing ovation would occur at the end of the night.
Incidentally, Wood did a very nice job as Ram’s estranged daughter. Former Oscar winner Tomei was outstanding as a stripper whose life becomes entwined with Randy’s.
Necro Butcher, the wrestler who appeared as himself in a most violent sequence, was not introduced to the audience. His absence disappointed me. It’s not every day you get to see one the most disgusting human beings on the planet in person, particularly among a sartorially splendid crowd of film buffs.
I do not want to give away much about the movie itself. Awards notwithstanding, reviews thusfar have been overwhelmingly favorable, with only a few critics cynically knocking what they perceive to be The Wrestler’s formulaic approach. However, Rocky was a lot more sentimental than this film, and Stallone not only was nominated for Best Actor but won Best Picture for a script he wrote.
This one ain’t Rocky or Rudy or The Karate Kid. The “garbage” wrestling sequence, complete with the usual barbed wire, glass, ladders, tables, thumbtacks and staple guns, sent some ladies running for the exits. There are a few other bloody spots as well.
But what stays with you after you leave the theater is not the violence. It’s the effect that Ram has on you. Rourke is compelling as a figure mired in desperation, willing to make unbearable sacrifices for the stardom he once enjoyed on a much larger platform.
The Wrestler will be released on December 19.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“F**k your friends. Be nice to your enemies, because then they will become your friends,
and you can f**k them too.”
- Pro Wrestling’s original Nature Boy, Buddy Rogers (1921-1992)
Despised by peers and fans throughout his career (Honored later on)
