The Wrestler Is Not a Tragedy

April 29, 2009

Since writing this article, I’ve actually come to a different conclusion and believe that I was incorrect in my original analysis. For the sake of consistency and to show the thought processes that led up to my new understanding of this film, I’m leaving my original analysis intact.

My new appreciation of the film appears at the bottom of this article.

Original Interpretation

Recently, I had the pleasure of attending a famous story guru’s lecture. As I had only previously read his concepts and ideas in books, the lecture was both illuminating and enlightening. Towards the end of the lecture, he fielded some questions from the audience. “What would be an example of a modern-day successful tragedy?” someone asked. Smiling, I leaned back in my chair and eagerly awaited his answer, knowing for sure what the easy answer was.

To my surprise he rather confidently replied, “The Wrestler.”

The Wrestler? Really?! I almost shot out of my seat. If there ever was a film that was the exact opposite of a tragedy, it would be Darren Aronofsky’s latest work.

I understood why he gave that answer and wished that there was someway I could clear it up. That’s when I remembered I had this site where I used to write articles about the theory and structure behind stories…

Analyzing stories can be a tricky process, mainly because everyone comes to the analysis process with their own set of story terms and definitions. There are some concepts that everyone can agree on (although even the readily understood notion of the “Protagonist” can also have a different interpretation), but more often than not fans of story can find themselves arguing the same position. You may be arguing that something is “green,” while I’m arguing that “No, in fact, it’s round!” – when all along we’re both talking about a grape. We both see the same thing, but we’re using two different standards of evaluation.

Of course, everyone stands by their standards and that’s usually where the confusion sets in. I’m no different. I have my own standard of evaluation and will be using that in proving why I think this movie is the farthest thing from an actual tragedy.

Tragedies and Personal Tragedies

Without a doubt, the ending to The Wrestler is beautifully tragic…from an audience’s point-of-view. Randy “The Ram” Robinson effectively commits suicide by participating in one final match with his arch nemesis, the Ayatollah. While his death is not explicitly shown (a masterful move by Aronofsky if I may), it is pretty safe to assume that this is what actually happened. He dies. We feel sad. But could it really be considered a tragedy in the strictest sense? Did it share in common the same sort of structural bones that say Amadeus or Hamlet has? Is that, in fact, what the story was really trying to tell us?

I would say no.

When it comes to determining whether or not a story is a tragedy or a personal tragedy (the difference I’ll get to in a second), there is a simple question one can ask. Did the Main Character overcome his or her personal angst? Every writer and fan of story understands that the Main Character of a story has his own throughline, his own set of problems and issues that are unique to him. It is through these personal issues that we the audience experience the story right alongside the Main Character. A tragic ending will have the Main Character still beset by these issues; he will not have resolved them.

The difference between a tragedy and a personal tragedy lies in the outcome of the main story line (or A-story line as it is often called). A full-blown tragedy, like Amadeus or Hamlet, will have the efforts to overcome the problems in the A-story line fail. A personal tragedy will see those efforts result in success. Now, whether or not you see The Wrestler’s main story line as being either about his quest for some connection or more simply, his quest to fight that one last fight, the fact of the matter is that those efforts in the A-story line ended up in success. Randy found his connection and he fought that last fight.

So we know that, by this definition, The Wrestler is certainly not an honest tragedy like those mentioned above. The question then remains about Randy’s personal throughline. Did he resolve his personal issues or did he not?

The Dude Has Got Some Major Issues

In The Wrestler, Randy’s personal problem is clear: He’s a “broken-down piece of meat” that nobody wants. Having been forced into early retirement with a detrimental heart attack, Randy struggles to find a connection with somebody, anybody, outside of the ring. He tries the local neighborhood kids, fellow wrestlers, his estranged daughter and his favorite stripper Pam. All of them reject him. Even his one successful connection in the film (the date with the girl from the bar) requires that he dress up like a fireman. Even those that want him, don’t want him the way he is.

Randy tries to connect with his daughter.

Lost and alone, Randy agrees to fight once more, to return to that connection that will always be there for him, his fans. He grabs the microphone and explains as much to his fans - they’re the reason why he’ll keep fighting, no matter what anyone tells him. Pam arrives and tries to convince him not to do it, but Randy refuses to listen to her. The cheers of the audience beckon him into the ring.

So he fights the Ayatollah and his heart gives. But he still carries on, struggling to pull himself up to the top rope in preparation for his signature move, “The RamJam.” For a second, he looks out to the stands and searches for Pam. She’s gone. We cut back to Randy and see that his suspicions have been confirmed - nobody wants him. Nobody, that is, except his fans. As he stands tall, the roar of the crowd grows intense as they give him the connection he has so desperately longed for. His final leap is proceeded by a tearful smile…

…and that’s precisely why it is not a personal tragedy.

Randy has resolved his angst. The key is that look on his face right before he jumps. Sure, he feels awful that Pam isn’t there and that he ultimately couldn’t connect with his daughter. But he did find solace in his fans, he found where he belonged. That smile betrays the entire meaning of the story. If instead his face had been filled with pain and torment, like say Mel Gibson’s did in his version of Hamlet, then the story would have taken on an entirely different meaning. That, to me, is where the bittersweet feeling of the film comes from. Here you have this guy who is knowingly going to his death, but going there with his heart full.

The events are tragic, but the story is not. In fact, by the definitions given above, The Wrestler is a story of triumph - the complete opposite of a tragedy.

The Easy Answer

So what was the film I thought he would answer with? Why, The Dark Knight of course. From what I can tell from the box office receipts, that was a pretty successful film!

Bruce Wayne/Batman begins the film tormented with the kind of influence he has had on Gotham. Is he a force for Good or is he instead a catalyst for Evil? He spends the entire film mulling over his role as the Batman, desperately trying to find someway out or someone to replace him. In the end, he takes Two-Face’s place as the villain - someone the people of Gotham can hunt and chase down. As the closing narration tell us, he becomes the Dark Knight.

In that film, Bruce Wayne has failed to resolve his angst. No smile there. He’s still stricken by the fact that he has this negative influence on the city of Gotham. That’s the very definition of a personal tragedy - a Main Character still stuck with the issues that they began the story with.

The Triumph of Spirit

The Wrestler is more of a triumph than a tragedy, for Randy and for Mickey Rourke, the actor who plays him. That is why the film is so wonderfully unique. We know the story of the actor behind the character, of the struggles he’s gone through, and we have witnessed firsthand his return in a wonderful film. Both character and actor were broken down and counted out, yes, but the triumph of will shines through in Mickey Rourke’s performance and elevates this film to something much more than a simple character study.

UPDATE (June 2009): Chris Huntley, co-creator of the Dramatica theory of story, has contacted me in regards to this analysis. While he does agree that the “good guy” wins (by regaining his popularity in the ring), he does differ with my interpretation of those final moments:

After his speech, and just before he makes the decision to kill himself for the crowd, Randy looks to the wings where his worst fears have been realized. The woman he loves has abandoned him, repeating the rejection by his daughter. He reverts back to his standard, lonely life and steels himself for what he will do for those who care more for the Ram than for Randy (or Robin).

In other words, Randy is left with the same issues he began the story with.

Chris believes it is a personal tragedy, and I have to admit, having it explained this way, he may be right. I was confusing Randy’s personal throughline with the main throughline of the story - a problem inherent in almost all analysis. Trying to determine exactly what the writer or filmmaker was trying to communicate is never an easy process (and probably why it is so much fun!).

The film certainly has a bittersweet quality that most triumphant films lack. And when you take a step back and look at the film as a whole, it does appear that what they were trying to depict was a character who was willing to sacrifice it all for the roar of the crowd. It sounds more sophisticated and is probably closer to the kind of meaningful ending that Darren Aronofsky was going for.

Good thing I stayed in my seat!