Some people are meant to do just one thing with their lives. When they stop doing that thing, they can’t handle it. Just recently, Penn State football coach Joe Paterno signed a three-year contract extension with the school. He’s 80-plus years old and has been coaching at the university for 50 years. When debating why he wouldn’t retire, a local radio DJ cited Alabama legend, Paul “Bear” Bryant. When Bryant retired and was no longer coaching, he died. Those are the themes The Wrestler deals with. What do you do when you can no longer do what you love? Or the only thing you know how to do? How do you survive?

Twenty years past his prime of the 1980’s, Randy “The Ram” Robinson continues to toil in the only world he knows, that of professional wrestling. The bright lights and large screaming crowds are behind him. His squared-circle now consists of a makeshift ring transported to the middle of school gymnasiums. His spectators are now scattered in folding chairs. His autograph signings consist of fans you could count on one hand, surrounded by former wrestlers sitting in wheelchairs and concealing urine bags. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. We’re not in Wrestlemania anymore.

When not “sitting on other guy’s faces,” trying to scrape together enough money to stave off eviction from his trailer park home, Randy frequents a local strip club, where Cassidy and The Ram trade flirting conversations. She continues to maintain her professional integrity by treating him like the customer he is, trying not to get too close. She is the only important thing in his life, so it’s no surprise when he visits her after having a heart attack that cripples his career. She suggests he get in touch with his estranged daughter in hopes of reconnecting after his life is threatened.

Randy’s daughter, Stephanie, has been hurt by him far too often in her life and she is content to forget about him. Even though she is of college age, the most recent photo he possesses of her shows her around ten. His attempts to reconnect with her are not easy, and it’s clear he will have to change his ways if he is going to have the kind of relationship he desires. Just like no longer remaining a customer if he is to have a romantic pairing Cassidy. Like no longer wrestling if he is to remain living. How can he change his lifestyle to accommodate the people he cares for, including himself?

After a brief slick-looking hiatus with The Fountain, director Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for a Dream) returns to his gritty, independent cinematographic style from which he made his name. The handheld nature of the film creates a documentary-like effect, heightening the realism. Long shots trail The Ram from his dressing room to the wrestling ring, much like Spinal Tap trying to find their way on stage. These shots are echoed later while Randy works the deli counter at his day job, in attempt to replace wrestling as his career. This stripped-down technique displays none of Aronofsky’s penchant for visual tricks that he employed in his prior films, and fans may come away disappointed with the director’s eye narrowly focused on the acting.

The merging of actor and character is how the film gets by. The career of Mickey Rourke has traveled much the same path of Randy’s. He was at the top of his game in the 1980’s and has struggled to surmount much of a foothold ever since. One suspects he needn’t fabricate much of the emotion he elicits in the film. At this stage in his life and career, The Ram was a character he may not have been born to play, but one he needed to. It may spell the resurrection of his career and his life. The Ram’s daughter, Stephanie, played by Evan Rachel Wood, has only a handful of scenes, but they are stand-out. The pain and hurt she’s suffered at the hands of The Ram are worn prominently on her sleeve. Marisa Tomei’s Cassidy parallels The Ram as a stripper past her prime (not Tomei, the character) who dreams of moving on with her life, but realizes she possesses no other skills. She and The Ram are destined to be kindred spirits, relying on their bodies to carry them through.

At this point in professional wrestling’s pop culture tenure, and even in the 80’s, its spectators know it’s fake. However, I had never seen the underbelly of the sport exposed to the degree The Wrestler peels back the curtain. It’s great entertainment to watch The Ram and his opponent talk out their moves backstage and how best to bring the audience to their feet. Those professionals do a great job of it, but I don’t feel the film drums up the same amount of excitement. I found myself more interested in the plight of The Ram’s wrestling career than in the relationships he tries to retain outside of the ring. The script by Robert D. Siegel lacks the impact needed to transcend the film to higher heights than just a detailed account of what happens to wrestlers when the limelight goes dim.

The Wrestler is the ultimate tale of how being on top doesn’t last forever, not even on the mat. Solid acting by Rourke and company will certainly be nominated for major awards. However, the story doesn’t live up to all it portends to be.