The Wrestler

Directed by Darren Aronofsky
(2008)

The form of professional wrestling, which is often referred to as white trash Shakespeare, would be no easy task to, cinematically, inject a genuine sense of humanity into. But Mickey Rourke did it. Clownish as the ring gymnastics and backstage drama may come off in the WWE, watching Rourke as the destitute but relentless weekend warrior, Randy "the Ram" Robinson, will awaken that long-slumbering compassion for fellow man. Sympathy is not earned cheaply, though. The Ram, while emitting that gentle giant sensibility, makes his fair share of questionable decisions concerning both his estranged daughter and romantic interest stripper friend, amongst others concerning his career as a wrestler.

What is undeniably heartrending lies in the character's determination to forge ahead upon the known tragic path. He's similar to Rocky Balboa, but we know there is no victory to be had here. In a scene involving a sparsely attended meet-and-greet of other long forgotten wrestling heroes, The Ram sees that there is no glory at the end of the line; wheelchairs and catheters adorn the gathered veterans. Countless years of wrestling have left has left him a social oddity, inept to status quo assimilation. The ring being the only place he maneuvers with grace, the only place he commands respect, this is where The Ram must exist - if only for a few moments more.

I take it back. Glory is part of this wrestler's conclusion. Though it's not dressed up in championship belts or American flags. It's bittersweet, even depressing. But there is something worth celebrating in someone who fights rather than fades.