The Realism of Wrestling (TFR Article)

By Meseret Haddis

Director Darren Aronofsky described The Wrestler as a back-to-basics film and, within the first few seconds that Mickey Rourke appears on-screen, this becomes immediately apparent. Randy “The Ram” Robinson is sitting in a chair with his head down; the camera sits low to the ground and at a distance, showing Randy in his costume as he sits in an elementary classroom. It’s just you and him. No music playing, no dramatic lighting.

The film follows Randy as he tries to restore his wrestling career. His chance to get on top again comes out of a rematch with an old wrestling rival. Randy prepares for the match by juicing up and getting stronger, but the mix of his age and steroids gives him a heart attack after a match that sidelines him. Randy then tries to repair his relationship with his daughter, whom he left when she was a child.

With its grainy picture that looks like it was shot on the family home camera, we quickly feel a sense of intimacy with Randy. The film works like a documentary and is without a definable visual style, relying solely on its performances.

I don’t think this film could have been as effective otherwise. Tracking shots, crane shots - all the visual aides that have become natural and almost unnoticeable in films – would have proven too distracting here. When Randy first examines the scar on his chest left by a bypass surgery, the camera zooms-in to grab a closer look. This image struck me: I felt as though I was watching was a documentary (of course, I knew it wasn’t, but that zoom was something instinctual, foreign even). It could have been just a simple close-up shot, through a cut, but that zoom reveals a subjective eye, something you notice in documentaries.

That eye has moments of subjectivity in a film that’s fairly objective throughout, as we follow Randy through his troubles. After Randy retires, he is working at a grocery store on his new shift at the deli counter. He puts on his hair net, walks to his “ring” at the back of the store and, soon, we begin to hear the cheer of the crowd. As he moves closer to the back of the deli counter, the cheers and roars become louder. Once he walks through the counter’s dividers, however, the roar stops. Of all the moments depicting Randy outside of the ring, it’s one of the most endearing. Randy’s persona feeds off of others and it’s clear that he doesn’t like to be alone. His contemplative moments are awkward and sometimes lead to destructive consequences (his heart attack, his last fight with his daughter, etc.).

The Wrestler is a beautiful photographic look at an American protagonist, someone who’s broken, beaten, old and weary, but continues to fight on for the love of the people. Randy is self destructive, something that is a product of years of physical abuse in the ring and emotional abuse outside of it. The realism of the sport of wrestling is that these are actual people who go home afterwards, who work and raise families. Randy’s struggle is that he’s never felt comfortable outside of the ring and why, when he tries to fit in with the world, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the silence, the banality, and the heartbreak. He’d much rather live, flying between the ropes until he dies.