The return of Mickey Rourke my ass. This is a good movie and that's about it--only remarkable for how unremarkable it truly is. I can't believe how apeshit critics and audiences have gone over this perfectly ordinary melodrama which amounts to little more than a Lifetime Original Movie with high-end production values.
All media hype and stellar performances aside, The Wrestler fails to accomplish much beyond proving that Mickey Rourke is still an excellent actor--something that anyone who has seen his earlier films already knows. The problems start with the supporting cast, portrayed by Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood, both of whom are neither likable nor sufficiently developed. Both function as thinly veiled contrivances to exploit our main character into a progressively deeper state of self-loathing. What director Darren Aronofsky fails to realize is that Rourke's character is interesting because he is his own worst enemy and not because his bitchy friends and family are constantly rubbing salt into his wounds. His psychological state of mind is sufficient as a powerful story telling device alone, without the insufferable, melodramatic actions of the supporting cast.
For example, the estrangement between "The Ram" (Mickey Rourke) and his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood, in an one-note, histrionic performance) is a hastily developed subplot, shoe-horned into the narrative to illicit more melodramatic flourishes--a tactic which neither comes across as believable nor particularly interesting. The same problem presents itself whenever Marisa Tomei's enters in and out of the story. The effectiveness of the supporting cast depends entirely upon what Rourke is saying or doing at any given moment, operating on auto-pilot with little insight of their own. It might have worked had there been some context behind these characters to lend weight to their circumstances. Sadly, this is not the case. Their inclusion in the script fails to serve the story in any constructive manner; merely illiciting a series of cheap and emotional soap opera vignettes. As a result, we are left alone with the slogging, self deprecating Rourke, whose downward spiral grows wearisome and tired long before the film's third act rolls around. The effectiveness of Rourke's performance (and it is effective) is greatly undermined by the underwhelming characters who seem to only take interest in punishing him, a conceit which never seems believable.
If this doesn't top my list for overrated film of the year, I don't know what will. Darrin Aronofsky,arguably one of the most visionary directors of the past twenty years is curiously absent in this film. The Wrestler is easily his most ordinary and boring entry in an otherwise remarkable filmography. I look forward to what he comes up with next. I hope it's not another phoned-in exercise in oscar baiting.
