Mick Foley, who after years of journeyman work and trying out various personas achieved rasslin' stardom with the WWF as Mankind, has gazed upon Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler and, in Slate, given it his professional seal of approval. Foley, who has written a trio of best-selling memoirs as well as some children's books, reports that he had been approached in the past about writing the definitive wrestling movie and that he turned down an offer to serve as a consultant on the Aronofsky film, figuring that if "I felt like having my name attached to a failure... I'd write another novel." But after attending a screening of the movie, Foley was moved by Mickey Rourke's performance as the faded '80s wrestling icon Randy "the Ram" Robinson, honoring the actor's ability to make "the pathetic seem heroic", and impressed by the film's documentary-style atmosphere. (Aronofsky shot with "working independent wrestlers" and shot "at real independent wrestling shows"; as the director mentions in this interview, this level of verisimitude extended even to the scenes at a New Jersey grocery-store deli counter, where the Ram supplements his meager income by donning a hairnet and spooning out potato salad, and where moviegoers can see Rourke, in character, affably messing around with real customers.) "Rourke", notes Foley, "deserves great credit not only for whipping himself into incredible shape—packing 30 pounds of muscle on for the role—but for doing his wrestling homework. Learning the trade at age 52 could not have been easy, but Rourke's in-ring work is good enough to pass this wrestler's sniff test. No one will ever confuse Randy's clothesline with Stan Hansen's, and the scenes surely benefited from careful editing, but much of what Randy did—his flying 'Ram Jam'; a Japanese enzugiri kick—actually looks pretty good. Importantly, it doesn't look any better than it should. His first in-ring scene, with a starry-eyed rookie thrilled just to be in the same arena with a former mat legend, looks realistically rudimentary."
"And everyone involved—Rourke, Aronofsky, independent wrestler Necro Butcher, stunt coordinator Douglas Crosby—deserves credit for creating a memorable midmovie bloodbath, a fight involving broken glass, barbed wire, a staple gun, and other implements." In fact, "Necro Butcher"--who appears in the cast credits listed as playing his "character" under his real name, Dylan Keith Summers--is one of a many-headed ensemble supporting cast that lends the picture a unique flavor. First seen backstage politely negotiating with Randy about just how much the staple gun will be employed in their match, he looks like a balding high school professor who's let his beard get a little out of hand over summer break. Once he hits the stage dressed only in cut-off jeans, he takes on the air of a deranged hillbilly who's come down from the mountains to seek his fortune working in Rob Zombie movies. As much as the film has been touted as a one-man show for the deserving comeback kid Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler would probably be unbearably bleak if not for the comradely vibe it gets from the weirdly lovable crew of hairless muscleheads and tattooed nightmares swarming over its set, all of whom turn out, on close examination, to be orderly professionals who are deeply solicitous of each other's fears and tender feelings. It's a reminder of what an untapped talent bin wrestling may be for casting directors willing to think outside the box. (Mick Foley, whose likable, smarter-than-you-think schlub act ought to make him a natural for the character actor clubhouse, has performed honorably in such TV series as G. vs. E. and Now and Again and recently turned up in a small role in the thriller Anamorph. Terry Funk, who pioneered the extreme-regular-guy persona that Foley updated for the age of flannel, has done good work in small parts in such pictures as Paradise Alley and Road House. And Foley's old wrestling partner Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson may have entered movies as a side of action beef, but in the last half dozen years, he's grown more as an actor than Stallone or Schwarzenegger did in twenty-five. This is a guy who managed to maintain his dignity in both The Scorpion King and Southland Tales!)
The Wrestler leads to Randy's twentieth-anniversary rematch with a burnoosed opponent known as "the Ayatollah"--played by an African-American wrestler named Ernest "the Cat" Miller-- who he met at Madison Square Garden in 1989, and who tries to garrotte him with a flagpole bearing an Iranian flag. (The movie's terrific opening credits sequence deftly places the match in its context as a high point of the trash culture of the '80s, linking Randy to such swaggering ephemera as the hair-metal rock he loves and the outdated Nintendo game that his most celebrated match inspired.) Apparently '80s nostalgia isn't a big concern of Iran's, because it's being reported that "newspapers and websites" in that country have "condemned the film" for this battle royale sequence, which includes a moment when the mighty Ram snatches the flagpole away and breaks it in two. To be fair, I don't know if they get WWF Smackdown in Tehran, and to a people without the slightest grasp of the nuances of professional wrestling, this imagery must seem like a weird and needless provocation. Still, as far as giving the Iranian government and media something to bitch about, it's a long fall from the heady days of 300 and Persepolis. Maybe, in the spirit of the new, post-Bush, Vince McMahon should be dispatched on a diplomatic mission to explain that, if only the Ram's big match had happened a year later than it did, his opponent would have been wearing an Iraqi military uniform and tried to belt him upside the head with cannisters of nerve gas.
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