Michael Hayne

Mickey Rourke’s acting (or heavy breathing)is what made the movie, and the camera work was certainly creditable as it followed Rourke from behind in each scene as though he were entering a screaming arena. Otherwise, it abided by a fairly simple formula. I also think the three separate plot lines could’ve been more seamlessly intertwined. I appreciate how Marissa Tomei’s character (in addition to being consistently naked) entered “normal life” just as Rourke’s character grew tired of it, casually showing how the characters beget each other. The scenes with Rourke and Evan Rachael Wood, his character’s daughter, were cliche-ridden (embittered, angry daughter tries to come to grips with her negligent father) and incomplete. And his little motivational speech at the very end didn’t seem the least bit necessary. I mean, the entire film was predicated on the fact that this hulking giant was a hopeless, brainless wash up living life through the lens of his glory days, irrespective of the present-day circumstances. Why we would need this spoon-fed to us at the very end seemed a tad bit insulting and self-possessed. But hey, anything beats seeing Slumdog Millionaire just to be hip and cool. In sum, I would say that Darren Aronofsky delivered yet another slamdunk with The Wrestler.

PS. Check out Requiem for A Dream