A U.S. distributor is not the only essential acquired by The Wrestler after its announced inclusion as Closing Night feature of the 46th New York Film Festival. The Venice Golden Lion winner and Toronto selection has also picked up a goldmine of buzz for itself and its star. 

For a while now rebellious actor Mickey Rourke has talked frankly about his past and stalled career. His arrogant indiscipline quashed early amateur baseball and boxing, Actors Studio enrollment, off-off-Broadway, a promising soft tough guy start in Hollywood, a marriage and stardom’s financial security. He returns from rock bottom at the hands of Brooklyn director Darren Aronofsky, who seemed easygoing at the press conference while seated to Rourke’s left -- but brooked no nonsense on the set: “ruthless,” according to the actor, conspicuously correcting that to “perfectionist.”

In shades and all black, a cigar in his wrist-bandaged right hand, unmindful of his language, the Miami hangabout handled his public mea culpa without groveling, and in this sense he is his ageing wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson, and vice versa. He spoke of new-found appreciation for his character’s profession and, beyond entertainment, its physical demands, just as film ladyfriend Marisa Tomei (as Pam Cassidy) realized that strip club pole-dancing is not an easy lark.

Public interest begins with the do-or-die of the man’s very participation, a last chance at redemption not unrelated to the ancillary vibes of what Rocky meant for its writer and star. Filmmakers have often and again been attracted to the ring, diamond or gridiron, but Aronofsky and screenwriter Rob Siegel knew that their enthusiasm of wrestling has seldom been touched.

The result meshes the spectacle entertainment of cinema and sports with the tale of the man who without apology does what he does best -- indeed, the only thing that he knows. In this, it figures among the oldest staples of film and myth-story, from Bs up to High Noon and The Shootist. Fields for soldiers and knights and gunslingers and athletes become metaphors for life, with extra years to live or death in the act immaterial: the lone stoic dons his protective cup or mouthpiece, scabbard or gunbelt, grabs a bat or hockey stick, and goes to the challenge of an enemy, of life or death, but certainly to confront the essence of himself. “The crowd,” the modern gladiator Ram intuits, “is my family, [I’m not] a loser.” The task, the actor Rourke said, is “to get back in the saddle.”

The cast includes professional actors mixed with colorful professional wrestlers (including all of the ring opponents) in Springsteen’s blue collar New Jersey, where Ram remains a drawing card at local billings and memorabilia signings in school gyms and lodge halls. Over-the-hillers and young dreamers value his personality and advice (and the seats filled by his fame), while kids flock around this Pied Piper of an overgrown kid.

But man cannot be both child and adult. Past (and present) irresponsibility has left a marriage broken, a grown perhaps lesbian daughter (Evan Rachel Wood, as Stephanie) totally estranged, bills unpaid, and existence barely above water.

Forcing his recalcitrant scarred steroid body with ring rigors, booze and a pharmacopeia of pills, he continues to delight spectators, particularly with his Antonino Rocca “Ram Jam” leap from the ropes, through a number of well-choreographed real-blood matches highlighting the postures and paraphernalia of the trade. Charismatic but broke, he could use the promising payday, and the adulation reward, of a twentieth anniversary rematch against The Ayatollah (Ernest Miller, as Bob), retired to a Phoenix car dealership.

“Nice Guys Finish First,” according to the soundtrack, but a sputtering heart issues a warning and precipitates retirement, neither so early nor with a parachute. Working hairnetted and humorously in a supermarket deli fills the wallet slightly but not the emotions and emptiness. Hence the attempt to re-enter angry Stephanie’s life and to earn more than preferred client friendship with stripper Cassidy in the girlie bar. Both respond, connected through a vintage clothing boutique moment, but the tiger cannot change his spots, and bitterness in one case, single motherhood in the other, erect barriers.

A decent guy who messes up even while being vulnerable, Ram is thrown back on his solitary life. From hurt, but more from gut consciousness of how he defines himself, this hero must do what he is and always has been. Rourke remarked afterwards that fifteen years ago compromise “was not in my vocabulary then, and change seemed weakness to me.” Changed but not subdued, he's back with a vengeance, but surely there is a sigh of envy, or a wrestler’s grunt, for his character’s consistency. 

(Released by Fox Searchlight and rated "R" for violence, sexuality/nudity, language and some drug use.)