The Wrestler not only resuscitates Mickey Rourke’s career, it resuscitates the memory of what cinema is and can be.
From beginning to end, it’s pure motion and emotion.
Mickey Rourke’s presence/performance is raw, wounded and scarred; excruciating, heart sickening and unhinged; tender, sentimental and full of grace.
He’s Heath Ledger in Monster’s Ball, Linda Manz in Out of the Blue, Temuera Morrison in Once Were Warriors, Gena Rowlands in Under the Influence, Marlon Brando in Last Tango in Paris, Sibel Kikelli and Birol Unel in Fatih Akin’s film Head On.
The fight scenes alone are worth the ticket, but it’s the vulnerable masculine moments and gestures that make you go and see it twice in one week.
The way he dies a little everytime someone calls him Robin instead of Randy or Ram.
The long hair he flicks when it’s hanging down, or ties in a chignon with loose strands that follow his jaw line when its’ up.
The act of shaving under his arms and colouring his hair for the ring; then putting on a hair net to go out and work behind the meat counter.
The back-up present for his daughter in case she hates the one he really wants to give her.
The earpiece he removes and rests beside his bed when he sleeps; the glasses he needs when he looks closely at something important.
The little white socks and tighty whiteys in the tanning salon; the cute grey cotton gear for the gym.
The crease of his bare arse at the back of his hospital gown.
The bare-chested bear hugs for his brothers-in-arms from the ring.
The last look in the men’s room mirror before bracing himself to go out into the club and try and win over the woman he wants to be with.
The admission that he’s not ready for her to do another lap dance, because his heart’s not ready to take it.
I still can’t decide whether his dancing scenes are embarrassing because they’re good or because they’re really bad.
The ghost of Sam Fuller haunts every scene of this movie, with his declaration from Godard’s Pierrot le Fou: ‘Film is a battleground. Love, hate, violence, action, death ... in a word, emotion.’
29 January 2009
26 January 2009
Chinese New Year
I have a lot in common with Kim Basinger & Chairman Mao.
We are delicate creatures and weather variations can effect our nerves. Without empty mental spaces in which to float free, our drowsy minds have no room to evolve their reveries into plans and action. We should avoid bladder irritants, such as spinach, asparagus, sorel, vinegar, unripe fruits, spices, alcohol and tobacco, but cranberry juice can be tried as a substitute for citrus products. Because we are cold-blooded, we require warmth, the sun, affection, security and cozy, luscious, sexy love.
We are of course Water Snakes
Greta Garbo is a Wood Snake
Joseph Conrad is a Fire Snake
Yasser Arafat is an Earth Snake
Aretha Franklin is a Metal Snake
And what of this new Year of the Ox? Oxen prefer the presence of wise, sane creatures like Snakes rather than a lot of nit-witted, fly-by-nights they don't respect. The Ox smiles on those who pitch in willingly and don't complain.
We are delicate creatures and weather variations can effect our nerves. Without empty mental spaces in which to float free, our drowsy minds have no room to evolve their reveries into plans and action. We should avoid bladder irritants, such as spinach, asparagus, sorel, vinegar, unripe fruits, spices, alcohol and tobacco, but cranberry juice can be tried as a substitute for citrus products. Because we are cold-blooded, we require warmth, the sun, affection, security and cozy, luscious, sexy love.
We are of course Water Snakes
Greta Garbo is a Wood Snake
Joseph Conrad is a Fire Snake
Yasser Arafat is an Earth Snake
Aretha Franklin is a Metal Snake
And what of this new Year of the Ox? Oxen prefer the presence of wise, sane creatures like Snakes rather than a lot of nit-witted, fly-by-nights they don't respect. The Ox smiles on those who pitch in willingly and don't complain.
quotes from The New Chinese Astrology by Suzanne White
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