What THE WRESTLER means to your DVD collection
Since we've already offered a DVD review of The Wrestler (see it here), I'm tasked with providing something different to celebrate the British release. 
I am a serious DVD and Blu-Ray collector, devoted to building up as close to an essential tome as possible; combining exclusive special edition releases with those movies that simply have to be owned. Accordingly I am interested in how each DVD I buy fit into the overall collection- what they say about who I am as a collector, and what they contribute to my shelves- and it is within this context that I want to consider The Wrestler. So, your acquisition of the The Wrestler means...
That You Appreciate A Damn Good Yarn
On paper, this is an unconventional success story to say the least- a Mickey Rourke-headed, painfully tightly budgeted Hollywood smash filmed as a "proactive documentary" about the flamboyant, fluorescent world of professional wrestling. But at the heart of matters is a phenomenal minimalistic script, some wonderfully observed relationships and a central character whose conception is only matched by the beautiful performance that makes this film. The story, enriched by the awe-inspiring performance that Rourke brings to it, is an exceptionally simple look at the dysfunctional relationships that mark the life of a broken and beaten professional wrestler. Despite the ostentatious premise (who really associates professional wrestling with understatement?!) the story is a simple tale of self-discovery and validation, and it is one that can resonate with anyone who has ever felt their dream slip out of their grasp, or been part of a dysfunctional relationship that was broken by their own hand.
The real power of the film is that it makes the fact that he is a wrestler both fundamental to the plot (the degeneration of his body, and the consequent move away from his adored prime are inherently linked to the prticular abuse he puts himself through in the ring) and inconsequential to our ability to empathise with him. Where other films have used wrestlers as oddities- whether basking in the reflected strangeness of having a WWE darling as an actor (Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock before Disney shackled him, or John Cena), or marvelling at the perverse spectacle of lycra-clad muscle men reacting to a girly slap as if hit by a freight train, The Wrestler pays it a due respect by accepting it as part of (a version of) real life.
That You Believe in Second Chances
Largely billed as the resurrection of Mickey Rourke, the success of The Wrestler is more a reflection of the enduring power of faith in the talent of self-destructive genius than it is a revellation of that genius. We all knew Rourke was an exceptional, volatile talent, whos potential success was always within his own grasp, if he bothered to try (a fact that Darren Aronofsky confirms in the Extras featurette when he says Rourke takes a lot of directing - 91/2 Weeks and Rumble Fish were early highs that most would agree he never stretched himself to achieve again. His is a career pock-marked by sporadic flashes of realised potential: Sin City was an exceptional performance, though not an absolute anomaly- Spun is an underrated modern classic and Rourke stands out as one of the highlights. But for every peak came a cavernous trough- an FTW or a Get Carter- suggesting the talent was no more than a fluke. The Wrestler confirms otherwise; the performance is perhaps so complete and so affecting because it is clearly so personal- the Ram's broken body reflects the ravages that Rourke inflicted upon himself, and his personal resurrection in his rematch with The Ayatollah a mirror for the actor's own revitallised darling status in Hollywood.
One word of warning- just as the Ayatollah Rematch hints that The Ram's body wont survive the endurance of stretching himself, it is difficult to imagine that Rourke will be able to sustain his talent through the frankly astounding number of films he will appear in over the next few years. Talent needs to be nurtured and preserved in a manner best suited to its nature- consider the way in which Daniel Day-Lewis restrains his career choices- and I would personally hate to think that Rourke's flame will diminish because he spreads himself too thin. That Surely Noone Trusts The Academy
If The Wrestler is less worthy of winning the best picture award at the Oscars than Slumdog Millionaire, there is something seriously array with the compass by which achievement is measured: not that Danny Boyle's latest is a bad film, it is a visual marvel and an important tale to tell, but it cannot match The Wrestler on any count.
The cinematography (i.e. the "pro-active documentary" style I mention earlier) is lush for such an underfunded project, and it is testament to the abilities of the DP under Aronofsky's accomplished guidance that sticking with hand-held never becomes a gimmick. Even more astounding when you consider that Aronofsky decided not to story-board any of the scenes: a decision that helped the way the wrestling scenes were portrayed no end: there was no sense of intricate choreography or the fetishism that often sneaks into sports movies (even the wonderful Looking for Eric is partly guilty of that particular sin). Even the script outstrips that adapted for Slumdog from Vikas Swarup'sQ&A.
That Your CD Collection Is Missing A Soundtrack
Certain films manage to create a historical moment perfectly through an intricate attention to the soundtrack- I often mention The Wackness as the best example- and The Wrestler uses music- largely hair rock from the 80s- to really capture the essence of when both Randy and Pam were in their primes.
It is not only the incorporated soundtrack of existing songs that is successful: the music created for the film- partly by the genius hand of Slash no less- is as essential a part of the narrative progression as the dialogue. All in all its one hell of a CD, and one that deserves a lot of attention.