I liked the Wrestler. I liked Mickey Roarke. I even wanted him to win a stupid Oscar.
For two hours, his watery-eyed performance as the washed up, juiced up, shell of a fictional goliath really got to me.
Where are all of those aged-ragged one-time celebrities? The ones without the breadth to see outside of their one-time moments of glory? The guy who dressed up like Barney or Pockaroo or the cast of Saturday morning teenybopper sitcoms…once kids and teenage girls threw themselves at these stars of 1980s. Then one day it was over. Pockaroo is selling insurance in New Mexico. Until last year, half of the New Kids on the Block were working construction in Arizona. Kids got over wrestling. Teenage girls outgrew those teen heartthrobs.
And still the washed up former WWF wresters were schlepping their fake-tanned asses to every small town rink in the country to get paid $40 to get a few steps closer to an aneurism and relive something that was never real to begin with. Guys I know from my small hometown went to see Randy the Macho Man Savage at the Pictou County Hockey rink, and even at age 10, the spectacle left a bad taste in their mouths.
I wanted Roarke to win. There is such grace in redemption. The means are glazed over by the glitter of the ends.
I have made a lot of mistakes. Said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said. But I doubt any grandiose redemption is in the cards for me, it’s far less dramatic when there is no audience. And I probably don’t deserve it anyway.
Mickey Roarke though, he does.
For two hours, his watery-eyed performance as the washed up, juiced up, shell of a fictional goliath really got to me.
Where are all of those aged-ragged one-time celebrities? The ones without the breadth to see outside of their one-time moments of glory? The guy who dressed up like Barney or Pockaroo or the cast of Saturday morning teenybopper sitcoms…once kids and teenage girls threw themselves at these stars of 1980s. Then one day it was over. Pockaroo is selling insurance in New Mexico. Until last year, half of the New Kids on the Block were working construction in Arizona. Kids got over wrestling. Teenage girls outgrew those teen heartthrobs.
And still the washed up former WWF wresters were schlepping their fake-tanned asses to every small town rink in the country to get paid $40 to get a few steps closer to an aneurism and relive something that was never real to begin with. Guys I know from my small hometown went to see Randy the Macho Man Savage at the Pictou County Hockey rink, and even at age 10, the spectacle left a bad taste in their mouths.
I wanted Roarke to win. There is such grace in redemption. The means are glazed over by the glitter of the ends.
I have made a lot of mistakes. Said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said. But I doubt any grandiose redemption is in the cards for me, it’s far less dramatic when there is no audience. And I probably don’t deserve it anyway.
Mickey Roarke though, he does.
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