In which Darren Aronofsky plays it a bit safer after becoming spectacularly unstuck with the rather wiggy and confusing time-travel love fantasy 'The Fountain'
This time round it's a pretty conventional melodrama starring Mickey Rourke as a washed up Wrestler, trying to make a go of it on the outside, but getting sucked back in for one more fight. It's a pretty similar generic template that's used in dozens of sports movies, but the film is given a massive shot in the arm by Rourke, whose, haunted, shuffling, self-loathing presence and ravaged body, dominates every frame of every scene. Rourke's splintered back, patchwork stomach, steroidal biceps and craterous face are virtually independent characters, as is the similarly ageing body of Cassidy, the single-mom stripper he sets his heart on. The painful parallels between Rourke's own film career and the pathetic, helpless tailspin of his character adds a gripping level of ghoulish fascination. The sense of Desmondesque regret and parasitic lust for lost fame is almost overwhelming at times.
The film dwells tenderly on the two battered lovers, ruminating on what it feels like to owe ones living to a body that is slowly letting you down. A powerful and honest film about a broken man, beyond both giving and receiving help, and locked into a helpless spiral of self-abuse. But also a tender film about the seldom acknowledged bravery of the guy who fails but won't stay down.
Perhaps most telling is that that the film has picked up Oscar nominations for Rourke and Tomei, but no nods for best film or best director. A slight, yet beguiling film, flawlessly performed. 7/10
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