Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Wrestler (2008)

Darren Aronofsky is one of the most important directors working today, along with Christopher Nolan and Shane Meadows. These three young guys are some of the up and coming revolutionaries, people who are improving the nature of character study when integrated with story in ways I have been waiting for ever since I was a young boy. The thing they all have in common is a mutual placement of faith in the audience. They don't explicitly spell anything out. They show you what they're thinking on a deep level, and then let you piece it together and come to your own deep realization of what you just saw. It's about linking your mind with theirs on some level. Their movies are so heartfelt and lacking in pretension or sentimentality, that they achieve some of the most true forms of human understanding shown on screen at the cost of requiring the viewer to be truly engrossed in the film. Which isn't even really a cost, it's a privilege.


I'll talk about movies like This is England or Dead Man's Shoes (Shane Meadows), or Memento and Insomnia (Nolan) some other time. But for now I'm going to talk about Aronofsky, and his latest masterpiece, The Wrestler. It's a story about a down and out wrestler, Randy the Ram, played by Mickey Rourke. Some could be fooled into thinking it's a documentary, and it does have the essence of one, only it takes it to such a higher level that it really isn't a documentary at all. It's more of a window to the spirit of one particular individual, and we are all witnesses. The film takes the Ram on a journey of an attempt to turn his life around from a wrestler to a proper father, or a proper lover, an average Joe for the most part. He gets a job in the deli counter to replace wrestling, thinking things will be alright after he talks to his daughter and gets things going with Marissa Tomei. It doesn't last, as the draw of the ring pulls him back in and the addiction to that atmosphere begins anew. Randy lacks the strength to change, simply because he doesn't really know what it's like to become anyone else. He is self-absorbed, and sure you can judge him, but if you've never known (as the Springsteen song says) a one-trick pony before, it might be hard to be OK with his nature. His daughter demands him to get out of her life after he lets her down right after trying to reconnect with her, and Tomei doesn't want to commit to a relationship because of him being a part of her job, so he goes back to wrestling and concedes to his inner feelings about people in the world. Nobody cares about him. Tomei says that she does, but when it comes down to it she really doesn't, she can't see him for who he is, only who she sees him as. Randy steps back into the ring, for the glory of the crowd and to feel like he has a purpose again. He looks to see if Tomei is still there, and she isn't, making him realize she really didn't care in the first place, making him even more determined to make the most out of his home in the ring. He has given up any hope of a new life, and gives himself to the audience and the ring. And thus he feels complete, that he has triumphed over the despair, and he is not alone.


In telling the story of Randy the Ram, Aronofsky has told of so many others who put themselves through physical or emotional pain for a greater end-goal. Randy's lifestyle causes him to pull away from the only ones who might ever love him, and he never goes to lengths to change it even when faced with heartache. The truth is that he is part of the ring, and he can never leave wrestling because it's the thing he loves above all else. There isn't room for the love of his daughter or another woman. He brings that mentality of battle and suffering everywhere he goes; the ring has molded him into a person who just doesn't fit in with everyone else. The ring is a maternal figure for the Ram. He understands it and feels at home with it, and although it's cruel, it's the only place that he finds safety in. The familiarity of it draws him back. Anyone who loves their job or their self-imagined purpose more than people are just like the guy. Someone like him who knows nothing more enjoyable or satisfying than his or her job will always have a hard time in the wilderness of civilization.

Aronofsky uses all the methods at his disposal to illustrate mood and feeling in his film. He's able to communicate ideas that, to me, are impossible to communicate with justice using any form of vocabulary. He uses music, visual styles, cinematography, editing, and amazing pacing to achieve this. The score, composed by Clint Mansell, is used in a poignant way; it always supports the characters directly. It's not there to add to an environment or create a superficial sense of emotion, it's only there to amplify the already very present emotions of the main character(s). As it helps the characters, the characters build the scenes, and thus the music helps the movie stand even taller as an honest character piece with it's truly artistic and honest portrayal of the human condition. It does for the film what the actors cannot; the score itself is a microcosm for the message the film wants to send. Be it with the somber tunes heard at the beginning, or the building guitar riff at the end: the soundtrack tells it's own story that sits right beside the story that Mickey Rourke is acting through.

The visual style is very distinct, and something Aronofsky didn't come up with until he met Rourke, who then helped him determine what style would suit him best as an actor. Aronofsky figured out which method of cinematography would compliment his presence more than any other, and that method ended up being a mix of hardcore realist/documentary and slight formalist cinematography. It was shot using a typical 35mm film camera, creating a grainy "of the moment" look, showing a heightened sense of realism throughout. The cinematography itself is mostly a camera following Randy around, while getting more up close in the intimate moments, giving us both a personal and observational attachment as far as the visual side is concerned. This allows us to make our own judgments by observing him in a well rounded light, not too one-sided in either regard, simply looking at a small piece of Randy's life and getting inside of his head a little bit. It doesn't go too deep, but just deep enough to get us to understand and think about who he is; it gives us enough information to know him, but not to know ALL of him in every extent.

The editing is methodical, not too slow and not too fast. It spends plenty of time in every moment, letting us live and breathe with Randy, not like a typical Hollywood picture. There are no quick cuts, every scene takes its time and is in no hurry to finish up. This is the best way to force you to connect, by getting you out of your comfort zone and letting you simply watch Randy. It's one of the many aspects of the film that makes the audience go from watching a mile away to being a real witness to the Ram's story. Along with that, the pacing works itself out to round out one complete short and concise package. From the beginning to the end, every single moment matters in understanding who Randy is and why he does what he does. There are no wasted scenes, nothing to give you a chance to pull yourself away from the piece even for a second.


Aronofsky has really discovered a way to illustrate character depth in a truly extraordinary light. He portrays Randy in an unbiased way, and communicates greater ideas in the process. Meditations on purpose and true meaning, honesty and true feelings of love, glory, and pain are all found throughout the film. Whether you can relate to Randy on a personal level or not, you have to be able to understand his thinking at the end of the film. It's clearly spoken while still being innately artistic. The beauty of it all is tremendous. Above all, after all that I've said, this truly is a movie that is felt, not discussed; it has to enter your heart and soul and stay there for a little while. As hard as I may try, I can't truly replicate the feeling I had when I first saw it with words. But I did my best here. This is filmmaking on an incredible level.

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