The Wrestler

20 years or so ago, as the eighties dispersed into nothing more than memory- so to did the acting career of Mickey Rourke. A once glorious, once rugged young talent whose forthrightness got the better of him- landing the once promising, once striking up and comer a place on Hollywood's cold shoulder and a fruitless career in the Boxing ring.

A handful of decent comeback turns aside, Rourke has long been considered a lost and wasted talent who, given the right attitude, could've flourished and seized those early day likings to late greats' James Dean, Paul Newman and Marlon Brando.

Mirrored to an extent, then, is Rourke's chronicle by the character he plays (and how) in 'The Wrestler'- Randy "the Ram" Robinson. A weary, washed-up wrestler. A has-been. A nobody. A nostalgic, runaway father who lives and breathes his in-ring pseudonym. Back in the mid to late eighties, Randy was a star. Now, 20 years on, he's a loner. A mountain reduced to a mound. A champ turned chump. When he's not roaming the rings of the weekend amateur wrestling circuit, he's pumping iron, shooting steroids, begging his landlord for time to pay his rent, playing cheap video games or hauling ass at the local deli.

All in all, Randy's a nice guy: likable, easy going and even Christ-like but after suffering a serious heart attack, the inevitable bad news is dealt: wrestle again and you could die. Now- Randy has a choice to make: go on living the only life he knows or get moral and stage one last crack at righting his wrongs: patch things up with his daughter and settle down with his favourite stripper friend.

The role of Randy is perfect, then, for Rourke. Not only does it give the 52 year old a shot at "the" lead many have been aching to see him grapple with for years, but it also allows him the substance and space to churn out the performance of his life. Beneath his unsightly exterior still stirs the wit, charm and dazzling panache that once promised so much. Mickey Rourke is, perhaps, the only actor out there who could approach this hearty part with the means, motives and memories to draw upon so effortlessly. For Rourke, this is a crossroads. A hairpin. A renaissance. A turn that sees the life of a wayward actor congregate with that of a fictional pugilist to summon something heartfelt, bona-fide and pretty dam special.

Directed by the visionary Darren Aronofsky, 'The Wrestler' is a moving and masterfully shot treatise on human nature and endeavour. The acclaimed cult director, whose former triumphs include 1998's cyber-surreal 'π' and 2000's stunning 'Requiem for a Dream', could be described as a dazzling mix of Davids' Lynch and Fincher with a generous pinch of Kubrick thrown in- and yet he is none of them. He's a budding maker of dense psychological dramas that centre on the self-seclusion of characters trapped inside their own bubbles of being.

Although considerably different in terms of visual style to Aronofsky's previous three features, 'The Wrestler' s a quite superb slice of American cinema that displays the 41 year old helmer's resourcefulness and new found maturity as a director. His 'Wrestler' is a smart yet simple tapestry of hand-held shots, moving cameras and tracks, devoid of the heavy, but impressive editing that went into his "Requiem for a Dream". Aronofsky's crafted an instant classic of the independent sphere that deserves attention. 'The Wrestler' is his most authentic film to date: a toned-down, slowed-down character piece with a big, brave heart.

Forget what you think you know about wrestling. This film is far a field from fake and a mere whisker from perfection. It's a morality-play, of sorts, but without the histrionic moralising and feel good summit that sugar coated this sport film to that. Yes, the proverbial blood, sweat and tears are there alright but this isn't a rewarding underdog tale or rags to riches yarn. This is neorealism. This is life: unfair, unfulfilling and un (bloody) reliable. Aronofsky drags cinema back onto the streets and hones in on reality. The nice guys aren't nice, they finish last and the 'heroes' keel over on their way to save the day. Yet, 'The Wrestler' emerges a flat-out winner: an often gritty, sometimes comical affair that fluctuates between the rough and the fine, the tough and the touching.

An unknown yet high-class supporting cast also come to pass- leaving nil to be desired which, ultimately, brings me back to Mickey Rourke who'll no doubt bare the brunt of the film's justifiable ovation. Darren Aronofsky steers his leading man towards a standout turn that could see the born-again thesp' land a fair few gongs this season. An Oscar?.No. I think Sean Penn's got that one sewn up but for such a question to prompt a pause for thought says an awful lot. Rourke is magnificent. Memorable, even, in this able all American gutter film that's going to give this year's best a run for their money.

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Sidney Lumet returns to top form in Before the Devil Knows You're Dead - a devilishly tense (pun intended), sprawling, melodramatic puzzle of a film. The film's title comes from a famous Irish blessing, which declares, "And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead", verbiage very much apt for protagonist brothers Andy (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank (Ethan Hawke).


In short, Andy and Hank, both short of money for various reasons, are looking to rob a "mom and pop" jewellery store, yet the sting in the tail lies in the fact that this store is owned by their parents. The focal point of the film is this robbery's result, which leaves various individuals dead or near death, and Andy and Hank must attempt a clean getaway as their father, Charles (Albert Finney), seeks to get revenge on the perpetrators. Embroiled in the turmoil is Andy's wife Gina (Marisa Tomei), who is torn between the two brothers in a very twisted love triangle.


Lumet enjoys utilising non-linear narrative to great effect in this film – we open on the day of the robbery, and subsequently dart around various days before and after it, which reveals to us a wealth of important and, at times, shocking information. The initial robbery is an intense, gripping scene of intrigue, ending in a violent eruption, yet soon enough, we are sent plunging backwards to three days prior to this. Such flashbacks are often disorientating and ancillary to the plot, yet in this instance, they are satisfying, and moreover, necessary – they work quickly in familiarising us with the two brothers and their various motivations (monetary, sexual, and familial) to rob the store.

The wildly slick robbery plan is orchestrated largely by Andy, who plays things extremely cool, whilst Hank initially balks at the idea, yet, with various large and looming debts, he ultimately decides to ride shotgun. In moments such as these, as Andy sits behind his desk, almost pontificating the need to pull this scam off, smoking a cigarette, he himself assumes a rather Faustian, devil's advocate-like persona, and it's wonderful to watch.


These flashback interludes, even in their effectiveness, fortunately do not last for the rest of the picture, and soon enough, we are thrown back into the intense robbery scenario, yet this time, thanks to said flashbacks, we now have context established. Lumet does decide to dip the viewer in and out of Andy and Hank's lives from days before the robbery, yet rather than suffocate the film, the puzzle-esquire format exists to suture together the various plot strands, endowing the viewer with essential information and character development.


Following the botched robbery, Hank states to Andy that "it's all come apart", and this is truer than the brothers know. The fallout of the robbery has greater ramifications than either could have ever expected. With the introduction of their father, the flashbacks begin to encapsulate his life also, introducing a more sinister, foreboding, and dangerous element into the narrative.


Hank in particular seems to become more and more neck-deep in trouble (mostly monetary) as the film progresses, yet Andy is hardly keeping himself above water either. Their own tribulations, combined with the emergence of their disaffected, enraged father, causes the tension to ratchet up to highly unnerving levels, setting up for what is one of the most thrilling, and shocking finales of the year. If anything, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead is a film about downfall – the death of a very twisted American dream, if you will. There certainly are cathartic moments before the fall, in that these are, to a degree, sympathetic characters, although aside from Finney's tragedy-imbued person, you have to wonder if they're worthy of such sentiment. Andy, in particular, is of dubious moral character, and Hank, driven by a need to stay afloat, is dragged down into the abyss with him..


It is a massive credit to the picture to be endowed with such acting powerhouses as Hoffman and Finney, that one is able to find all of the film's familial issues to be convincing precursors to their present problems, without at all seeming forced. The finale is almost unbearably tense, serving up its fair share of surprises, and whilst one may declare that it "descends" into melodrama, I attest that it shamelessly (and rightly so) does so, with no descent or decline in the film's integrity or quality. The final twenty minutes is so chock full of unpredictability (yet still manages to be tangible), and so masterfully acted, that even if you find the melodrama to be several steps too far, there is nevertheless an assortment of reasons to both watch and revel in this electrifying, dramatic character study.


Before the Devil Knows You're Dead is packed with Oscar-worthy material – the tragic, spiralling plot is unflinching in its portrayal of man's desperation, thanks to Kelly Masterson's sharp and inventive script. However, what without question raises this film above similar pictures is its acting – Albert Finney is perfectly smouldering as a vengeful man thrown into an impossible situation, Philip Seymour Hoffman is spot-on as the unquestionably slimy sibling, and Marisa Tomei does an appropriately ditzy job. One mustn't forget Ethan Hawke either, whose role is not as meaty as Hoffman's, yet he still brings a flare to the role of an unspeakably desperate individual. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead is a winning, daring concoction of skillful writing, deft performances, and schooled direction.

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