I’m not sure what to think of The Wrestler.

The movie was well-made. The acting was excellent. However, I never felt myself emotionally drawn into the story, because well…there didn’t seem to be one.

The plot could be summarized thusly: “Well-intentioned, likable performer prone to bad decision-making has personal and professional problems.”

That’s not a story. That’s LIFE. The only thing that separates Randy the Ram from many wrestlers, (or, come to think of it, most entertainers I know) is that Randy MADE it at some point. Most of us in show business never even get that far.

Sure, they did a great job with the acting and the script, but you can get the exact same story following Jake Roberts or Terry Funk around with a camera (*), so what’s the point?

The wrestlers I saw the movie with had other criticisms. They were mostly concerned with the way the movie exposes the business. That didn’t so much bother me for three reasons:
 

A) The wrestling genie is out of the bottle anyway. There’s nothing in the movie you couldn’t learn from an internet search or--God help you--Celebrity Championship Wrestling.

B) I think the wrestling business and the people in it could benefit from a little less secrecy and a lot more open-ness and transparency. From my perspective, a lot of damage has been done by people protecting a business that has done very little to protect them.

C) It’s a movie. No one believes trucks turn into alien robots. No one believes Keanu Reeves is the savior of humanity. No one believes Sarah Jessica Parker can afford those kinds of clothes on a newspaper columnist’s salary. The Wrestler is only as people tell them it is. Don’t like it? Then don’t sell it.

One thing audiences seemed to like was the ‘washed-up entertainer’ angle. “This guy went from sold out stadiums to wrestling in bingo halls for sixty people? How sad.”

I’ve noticed many in the general public have this misplaced pity for performers who either never made the big time or who made it and lost it, and as a performer myself, I‘ve never understood why.

I could use a lot of careers as an example, but since we’re talking about “has-beens” and “never weres and I don’t want to hurt any feelings, we’ll stick to mine.

In writing, I published a few short stories and won some contests years ago. I also wrote enough regular columns for a big city newspaper that I enjoyed some minor league celebrity status.

Not anymore.

In wrestling, I once hosted and did the play-by-play for a television show. That show is no longer on television.

In comedy…actually, I’ve never done shit in comedy. A finalist in a couple competitions.   A TV taping that never aired. I get paid regularly to perform and on the whole, I have more good nights than bad nights, but there’s still progress to be made.

We haven’t even touched on music (a couple indy records that went nowhere; shows all over the province) or acting (bit parts in a couple indy films; some promotional videos for a couple non-profit organizations), neither of which are a big priority for me.

Oh yeah. I’m thirty-five years old.

Depending on how you squint at my resume, I could be classified as a “has been” or a “never was” (Personally, I’m stacking my chips on “late-bloomer,” but that’s neither here nor there). So by all accounts, I should be bitter and sad.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I write because I love writing. I tell jokes because I love telling jokes. I’m at the wrestling events because I love being part of the wrestling business. I’ve had people come up to me and offer sympathy for a rough show with a low crowd turnout. What they don’t understand, is there is nowhere I would rather be, and if you talked ninety-nine percent of comedians, actors, wrestlers, musicians, I’m sure they would tell you the same.

Most of us don’t do we do because we want to be stars. Sure, we’d take it if we could get it and successful is better than unsuccessful, but given the choice between doing what we love for a small crowd or not performing at all…I don‘t think there IS a choice.

As Martin Short, a household name in the eighties 'reduced' to doing stand-up comedy in casinos, put it: “My rock bottom is your wildest dreams”

Don’t feel bad for me doing comedy in a karaoke bar in front of four people, three of who are sitting glassy-eyed in front of Video Lottery Terminals. Don’t feel bad for the guys in spandex pretending to fight each other in a community hall. Don’t feel bad for Randy the Ram (***).   It might not look like it, but we’re living our dreams.

Then again, maybe the fact Randy’s story is the story of a thousand other guys (and a few girls as well) IS the point. If so, then The Wrestler succeeds on all accounts. It’s well-acted, well-written, and true-to-life.

I guess it’s just then a matter of opinion whether that makes it brilliant or boring.

(*) Come to think of it, Barry W. Blaustein did exactly that .

(***) Some would argue the hardcore match with Necro Butcher didn’t look like a lot of fun. My argument is there is due to his status as a locker room veteran and a “draw,” there’s no way Randy would have been forced into that match. Plus, with twenty-plus years experience, the Ram should know how to work an entertaining, but relatively safe match. In fact, I have a pretty entertaining story involving this very scenario involving two veteran wrestlers, a bunkhouse battle royal, and a mannequin head, but that’s a column for another day.

DAN BRODRIBB is a professional stand-up comic and writer who hosted and provided the play-by-play commentary for independent wrestling promotion Monster Pro Wrestling’s television run.  He is still active in the business as a freelance ring announcer and chair-stacker.  Check out his shameless self-promotion at: danbrodribb.blogspot.com