I recently had the pleasure of watching Darren Aronofsky’s film The Wrestler.  This was after I wrote my Oscar tirade, though the experience I had in that film has only added to my furor.  An often overlooked quality in film is the ability to be earnest, but it is so rarely accomplished.

There is a fine line to be walked between sincerity and pompousness.  Too often, filmmakers want to make you cry, rather than actually accomplishing it.  It is difficult not to be moved by a child’s tears, but once the youngster gets a taste of your sympathy he will exploit your kindness.  Hollywood often follows the “boy who cried wolf” method during the awards season, as if the only time audiences are allowed to cry is between December and February (not a bad strategy, as this is a stressful time of year).

In The Wrestler, Mickey Rourke plays a washed up pro wrestler who is still clinging to the glory of his past.  If you replace the words “pro wrestler” with “actor,” you will be describing Rourke’s own career.  This leads to an incredibly genuine performance, and I actually walked away from the theater with an appreciation for professional wrestling that I didn’t have before.

Aronofsky himself probably realized the need to make a stripped-down film after receiving criticism that his previous films were pretentious.  Pi and Requiem for a Dream are pretty good movies, but I probably wouldn’t want to watch them more than once.  There wouldn’t be a need for a second viewing anyway, as every film student I have ever met has expounded on their brilliance.  The Fountain is a film I like very much for its ambition and beauty, but I can understand why someone would criticize it.

If you watch The Wrestler with a critical eye, you can see from the very beginning that you are watching the work of a filmmaker who consciously tried to rely less on his technique and more on his instincts.  For the first time in an Aronofsky film, the direction isn’t noticed and the actors are able to shine through.  There is one scene that I would even point out as the anti-Aronofsky, in which Rourke’s character finally lets go of “The Ram” for a moment and embraces a new life working the deli counter at a grocery store.  This scene is so expertly choreographed between director and actor, and we see Rourke use his charm by giving nicknames to his customers.  The camera, however, only reveals the customer after the christening so that we may chuckle at the appropriate handle. (more…)