I recently watched The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke and after about 20 minutes I just had to fetch my pen and paper.  Immersed in a story crafted out of 2 lives that were set in wrestling rings, supermarkets, trailer parks, and strip clubs.

Sometimes I use a video called Wrestling with Manhood in the workshops I do about masculinity, but this Wrestler movie is more about life outside the ring.  Rather than talk about the violence, bullying, sexualization, and the business of big men between the ropes, Rourke and the crew pile-drive us through the spring-loaded mat and tease us with tougher questions about manhood.

Who defines you?  Robin Ramzinski the man or Randy "The Ram" Robinson the wrestler, Cassidy the stripper or Pam the woman (played by Marisa Tomei)?  Both of the main characters have stage names, but Ram carries his throughout his days at his supermarket day job and with friends. My favorite scene is where Ram is not The Wrestler and  does his afternoon macho dance-moves for Cassidy at the bar.  He repeatedly asks people to call him Ram which likely feeds All-Star idenity, but I wonder what and who gets lost in this process.  Who is the person dancing, working at the supermarket, or feeling lonely?  How can he be true to himself without reducing this identity based on what others see?  I think the names and labels we hold for ourselves should respect what’s private, not just public.

One of my favorite jokes is one by Rowan Atkinson.  He says “do you know the essence of a great joke?” and you say “no I don’t know the ….” AND THEN HE CUTS YOU OFF and says “TIMING”.  The brilliance of this joke – and I’ll argue life too – is that both the HOW and the WHAT are in sync.  This integration is remarkable when it happens because it just flows.  There is no struggle and there is no suffering.  The timing is ripe for Robin and Pam to retire, but only she accepts this.  Robin will remain -- as he puts it -- an “old broken down piece of meat and alone”.  He tunes out restricting voices from his doctor, his friends, and his own rage and fear about the dying-days left for him in the ring.  So much of this movie's drama is made from conflict based in moving on and letting go.  What holds Robin and ourselves back from change?  Are we in snyc when it comes to our means and ends?

Where do we get hurt and how do we express it?  Ram prefers the pain in the ring, rather than the pain in the world.  He knows and endures the physical pain of wrestling, but is scared and weak when it comes to the emotional pain of family, friends, and self-acceptance.  He tries to connect with his daughter, open up to Pam, and start a new life, but he admits “the only place I get hurt is out there” – pointing outside the ring.  So much of masculinity, or the Boy Code, is about controlling and censoring one’s emotions (unless it’s anger) because they are a sign of weakness.  Perhaps some boys and men risk getting hurt physically as a substitute for the pain in their hearts?  Why do governments spend billions to wage war rather than wage peace?  Why would some guys rather fight or let violence settle the score rather than drop it and work it out with words?  I think Robin understood that bones heal a lot faster than hearts and even a heart attact is better that a broken heart.

The Wrestler received high praise by audiences (Rourke was nominated for an Oscar) because it ‘goes live’ with universal questions of identity, integrity, and risk.  A good movie for me is one that opens new ways of asking old questions and leaves me with a few ideas to wrestle with.

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Paul does media education worshops and wants to make more crafts this year.