A Little Push - Thoughts on the Hollywood Machine: 11.22.08

Posted by Rick Tym on 11.22.2008

Wrestling goes Hollywood (and some special Push thoughts on this development), a John Carpenter update, the new Coraline trailer and even more odds and ends inside...

Wrestling Gets Serious

That subtitle alone may garner some ill wishes from those who wander around the wrestling zone here at 411, but give me a chance to explain myself. You see, I have a confession to make.

I am a wrestling fan.

I'm not as much of a fanatic these days as I was as a child, or during the Attitude era of the WWF (lawsuits and pandas be damned). My grandfather introduced both myself and my uncle (less than a year older than me, and a great person who just so happens to be my best friend) to the wonders of the squared circle when we were ten or eleven years old, and for a good four or five years after that we were fully engrossed in the McMahon family circus. At first we caught all the regional stuff that aired on local affiliates and stayed up late back when Saturday Night's Main Event was more than just a failed NBC primetime ratings grab. We eventually graduated to pay-per-view addiction, and no character was too silly or strong to shatter our suspension of disbelief.

However, it was a conscious decision to root for these guys (WWF gals were managers and valets, not active competitors, back then) and believe in the unbelievable with implicit understanding that yes, the matches were scripted and their outcomes predetermined and no, the physical torment endured by the performers was not fake and we were never to mimic their actions in the living room or backyard. My grandfather let us be children and root for our favorite bad guys and boo the grapplers we held in high disdain. (True—and funny—story: my uncle, who was only twelve at the time, flipped of the Iron Sheik during a house show held at the Scranton Catholic Youth Center right here in our northeastern Pennsylvania backyard. The Sheik, that crazy SOB, gave it right back to him.) He always made it a point to be sure we understood exactly what it was we were watching on television or partaking in as a crowd member. We were not "smarks," but we were intelligent fans, even in our pre-teen and teen years.

Wrestling then fell off the map for me in a big way, most likely due to a full college load which included not only engineering classes but drinking, courting the pretty ladies (sometimes due to the confidence boost of the alcohol I just mentioned, and sometimes not) and the worries that came along with trying to find a job before graduation so I could be assured of paying off all those federal loans. Find a job I did, and soon I was in Kansas, where I didn't know a soul but found one of my old friends on Monday nights, who was always around to make me forget that little bit of homesickness that comes with transplanting yourself halfway across the country. It was the era of Stone Cold and the Rock, when the pseudo-sport was becoming more gritty and mainstream. This close buddy of mine followed me amidst countless moves, from the Pacific Northwest to New England and even back to where I started from, the coal regions of PA. While we don't hang out quite as much as we used to, I still follow what's going on once in awhile either on the tube, on A.M. Raw or right here on this very website (cheap pop!)—in fact, that's how I found my way into the movies and TV zone with just a Little Push.

So I can honestly say that I've seen the good, the bad and the f%$#ing ugly as a fan. As I mentioned, I moved to the Midwest after college; there I saw Owen Hart plummet to his death before my very eyes at Over the Edge back in 1999. I flew to Houston to be part of arguably the greatest PPV of all time, Wrestlemania X-7. I was at the first RAW after McMahon's company changed its moniker because of a lawsuit with the World Wildlife Fund, and couldn't exactly comprehend the new logo I saw on a banner flying in the rafters. I know all this makes me sound like a WWE mark, and that's okay if you think so, because it's what I know and enjoy, and have no inclination to talk about TNA or ROH—not because I'm not interested, but simply because I don't have the time or means available to follow those promotions or speak to them nearly as well as some of the writers on this site. I'm telling you this because it makes a point I try to prove to everyone I meet in this crazy world that isn't initiated into this little fraternity, who simply doesn't get why people would take the time or spend money on tickets to see oiled-up men in tights fake a fight with each other in a modified boxing ring. The answer is simple: wrestling—in particular, the World Wrestling Federation (or World Wrestling Entertainment or whatever the hell they'll be calling themselves next year) brand—has always been a great source of entertainment for me, and I've always made it a point to understand the reality behind all the fantasy, that the work is hard with long hours and nothing but a ride off not into the sunset but rather into mediocrity awaits those select few lucky enough to be given a tryout and stick their landing. As with most things entertainment, I am not only obsessed with the presented work (hopefully good or exceptional, sometimes mediocre or bad) but the inner workings of such productions, and use this knowledge not only for my own personal edification but also to explain to non-fans why exactly this mix of athleticism, spectacle and cheesy acting holds a special place in my heart.

When things get really dicey in the rationalization of this demonstrated passion for the business, I pull out the big guns. Sometimes it's just Mick Foley's Have a Nice Day: A Tale of... which shows that even the biggest of wrestling galoots has intelligence and abilities beyond throwing a fake haymaker. If they still don't buy it, I grab the VHS copy of Wrestling with Shadows from the shelf and insist that it be watched before further discussion takes place. Should that not be enough, I go to my Holy Grail of rasslin' drama, excitement and heartbreak, Barry Blaustein's excellent 1999 documentary Beyond the Mat. Most times that is enough, and I can finally sit back with a gratified smirk upon my face; finally they get it and my work is done.

All of the above examples are works of non-fiction, and go a long way towards legitimizing the real story behind professional wrestling and its fans. Ready to Rumble notwithstanding, I don't think that a very good dramatic take based in reality but bounded by fiction has really ever been done. Thank goodness that's about to change, with a movie you may have already heard about. Directed by Darren Aronofsky (Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain) this film is titled—simply yet beautifully—The Wrestler.

And before you watch the trailer, yes, I was kidding with that Ready to Rumble reference. Please don't revoke my card-carrying wrestling fan status.




I talk a lot about movies I would like to see but can't because I live in BFE, PA and therefore have no access to advance screenings or special press functions. Here I again lament this fact, because of the recent limited-release films I've craved, The Wrestler has surpassed every last one. I've read some complaints that this preview is a bit too liberal in showing what may be the story's final moments, or that the character depicted reminds one just a bit too much of Jake "The Snake" Roberts. To those who feel this way I say too bad, because you're missing out on the very notion of a perfect movie trailer defined, one that has the power to make you cheer, tear up and get the chills in the space of two minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

A Little Push is a big fan of Darren Aronofsky, has seen Pi at least a dozen times and has been more than a bit infatuated with The Fountain since a recent viewing and still yearns to revisit the Tree of Life sometime soon. (I'll admit ignorance on Requiem, but have been told that it's best to watch when in the mood for assured depression.) However, the Push also feels that at times the director's composition can get a little muddled, and it often takes repeated viewings to fully grasp what he is attempting to convey. Whether this is on purpose or merely a baseline signature of Aronofsky's work becomes a moot point, because his journeys are usually worth a second or third or twelfth rebooking. In this case, early reviews and the sheer power of the above clip show that The Wrestler may follow a clearer path, not only for wrestling fans but lovers of all things film, and that, my friends, will make these subsequent viewings that much sweeter.

The Wrestler is going to transcend the effort to legitimize the professional sport to non-fans. It's going to be a motion picture that will be spoken of in reverent tones as a classic, and will blow Mickey Rourke's comeback in Sin City back to the Stone Age. The pain you see in his mangled face is real, because Rourke has lived it, going from being called "the next James Dean" to a "nobody" who grew sick of or simply didn't understand the Hollywood limelight, chose to quit and became a boxer. That's not makeup or prosthetics you see up there, folks—that's his real face, battered and hurt, reflecting the decisions he's made in his career and personal life, now showcased for all to see in a tragic story that so closely mirrors his own. As great a director as Aronofsky may be there's no doubt where the true magic lies, in the reality of Rourke as a person which breaches the surface of the character in every frame that he occupies. The Academy eats this kind of stuff up and you know what? So do I. Everyone should. If you're a fan of the art of film then you should readily appreciate the raw emotion and truth the actor is bringing with him, the baggage that's sitting on the curb for all to see. I predict at least a nomination for Best Actor for Mickey come Oscar time(not only based on the trailer but the multiple reviews I've read—and yes, I've salivated over every single one of them), and truly hope that the crowds are warm and the flashbulbs not too startling when he emerges from the darkness into the spotlight once more.


John Carpenter Takes on the Mob

Ah, it's our good buddy J.C., back from the doldrums of Ghosts of Mars and the Masters of Horror series (although, to be fair, Cigarette Burns was pretty nifty) to take his rightful place on the throne (stop with the potty humor, people, you know what I mean) with—wait, a mob movie?




I'm back, baby. Now who's got a smoke? Yeah, I know I already have one. I meant for later.

The Prince is the rumored title of John Carpenter's next directorial effort, still in development somewhere in the Hollywood Machine's cogs and sprockets. The film's screenwriter, Jeremy Passmore, recently spoke one to the guys over at CHUD and likened the tale to "Unforgiven as a gangster movie."

How cool is that? He went on to say that the movie would be "brutal and dark and violent at the end," which just raises the curiosity quotient another few hundred points or so. This bit of news should be taken with a grain of salt, as IMDB lists the film as "announced," but it is interesting nonetheless. Also listed in preproduction is Riot, a film which depicts a governor's son taken hostage while attending a crime prevention program (aptly named Scared Straight) held in a prison. In production is L.A. Gothic, an anthology of five tales of terror concerning the supernatural evil of L.A.'s seedy underbelly.

At this point I can't even pick which one I would like to see more. I just want all of these Carpenter efforts at my local cineplex, stat. The world becomes a better place with more John Carpenter movies in it, and every time one is released, an angel bitch-slaps a demon back to hell.


Coraline Trailer

We here at A Little Push like Neil Gaiman, and have read most of his stuff, including the little book on which the upcoming 3D animated feature Coraline is based. We also like to throw some bonus video content your way every once in awhile, so without further ado please click play on the clip below to view the new full trailer for the afore-mentioned film.





New Abrams' Trek Posters

Not much exposition to add here, just thought some of you might like to see the new Star Trek reboot reimagining film…



A young, saucy Uhura (Zoe Saldana)…



…and a scary, tattooed Romulan (Eric Bana).

These posters basically tow the same line as the other character posters already seen in the marketing push for Abrams' Trek, due in May 2009. Push readers already know my level of optimism for the new Star Trek, and besides, I've never been that offended by movie posters anyway—although I certainly do appreciate the ones that kick ass. These aren't anything groundbreaking in the poster or advertisement realm, but serve their purpose in putting the younger faces to the classic names in the upcoming franchise life resuscitator.


Outtro

Thanks for reading all the way through and also allowing me to indulge in my little wrestling tangent that started off this week's column. Although I didn't really plan on reliving some of my past fandom, or discussing my current bias, I hope it served as a valid basis for my strong feelings about The Wrestler.

I just reread that section before posting this report and man, it seems a bit too serious. Only one joke and even that isn't really cutting it since I resorted to naming a David Arquette film. Tell you what; I'll throw you a bone. For the people enticed by Marisa Tomei playing a stripper in the film, go check out Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. There you'll find the concept of her being naked is not a novel one.

A Little Push, helping to further the cause of those hoping for a glimpse of a beautiful women's breasts, one film at a time.

I still haven't seen Quantum of Solace, and to be honest it'll have to be matinee or bust for me. I just don't get that warm, fuzzy feeling I got from Casino Royale when I hear so many comparisons to the Bourne franchise. Can you actually believe that I'm tempted to check out Bolt instead?




Can this really be considered a viable alternative to 007? A Little Push says…maybe.

I don't know why, exactly. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a sucker for cute and funny puppy stories, or it could be that family feeling that's slowly but surely creeping up as the holidays approach.

Speaking of holidays, Happy Thanksgiving to those of you reading that celebrate turkey day. Thanks for joining in, and remember to come back next time for A Little Push.