In American cinematic tradition, The Aging Warrior, usually played by Sylvester Stallone, returns to the arena for one last heroic battle against The Arrogant Challenger, defying expectations and muscular degeneration to prove that he's The World Champion For Eternity. The Wrestler, a moving, melancholy character study about a fictional pro-wrestler of a certain age, is not one of those films. There is no epic battle between Aging Warrior and Arrogant Challenger. There is no Arrogant Challenger, period. The young wrestlers in the film are just struggling to make it. They exhibit affection and respect for their legendary predecessor. The only battles in the movie are psychological, and the characters chiefly grapple with themselves. The physical wrestling, by contrast, is just showbiz. There are no extended training montages scored by glam rock battle hymns. Other than Springsteen's plaintive The Wrestler, which plays as the credits roll and haunts you out the door, the only music you'll hear emerges from car radios and arena speakers, giving the 80's metal and rock a tinny sound that underscores the old wrestler's faded glory.

There is also a long theatrical tradition of The Senile Has-Been who pitifully indulges himself in the delusion that he is World Champion For Eternity while the Arrogant Challenger cunningly usurps his throne. Examples include King Lear, Death of a Salesman, Glengarry Glen Ross, and the 2008 presidential election. The Wrestler is not one of those either. Randy the Ram (Mickey Rourke) knows full well that his career has neared the end and that there will be no return to the glory of his youth. These days, he lucidly endures daily humiliations with grim patience: locked out of his trailer home for failure to pay rent, taunted by the manager at his day job as a supermarket stocker, filled full of staples in a particularly sadistic but crowd-pleasing wrestling act. He finds solace in the respect he still receives from fellow wrestlers and devoted fans as he painfully climbs the ropes each weekend to deliver theatrical body slams. Evenings, Ram visits a chintzy suburban strip club for lap dances from a cynical stripper known to him by her stage-name, Cassidy, who firmly dismisses his amorous invitations.

The film pivots from sad to wrenching when Ram suffers a heart attack, bringing an abrupt end to his faltering career. Lonely and poor, he takes a degrading deli job at the supermarket and reaches out to Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) and his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) for affection. The second half of the film portrays Ram's struggle to interact with these two ambivalent women and deal with his yearning for the attention and adoration on which he had thrived as a performer.

With his blond mane and good-guy stage persona, Randy the Ram mimics Hulk Hogan, who wrestled as recently as 2007 at age 53. Like Hogan, the Ram had famously defeated the forces of Iranian villainy at Madison Square Garden in the 80's, the Iron Sheik being replaced with the fictional Ayatollah. Mickey Rourke has obviously devoted himself to the part. At 56, he must have undergone extensive training (and perhaps medication) to put on the impressive muscular bulk he carried. His studied performance seduces the audience with a beautiful portrayal of a sweet, broken man, who in contrast to his fierce stage persona and exploding pectorals exhibits affection and generosity towards Cassidy, his daughter, his fans, and his fellow wrestlers alike. But the audience's empathy comes at a price. The film frequently alludes to Ram's past as a self-centered, emotionally distant party-animal, but despite one scene of old time pro-wrestling debauchery, it's difficult to imagine such behavior from Rourke's tender wrestler. As a result, Rourke's rendering is less complex and less real than it might have been.

Marisa Tomei is excellent as usual, as a determined, self-protective older stripper and mother, though like Rourke, she displays too much sugar and too little salt. Cassidy is supposed to have buried her emotions within a thick defensive shell, but the shell cracks too quickly and easily for that to be convincing. At 44 and frequently naked, Tomei also looks fantastic.

Evan Rachel Wood is easily the weakest of the three as the angry, insecure daughter. With only a few scenes to fill out her character, it's a difficult role. Wood shifts rapidly from curses to embraces to tears and fails to make the character work.

But responsibility for the acting flaws should certainly be shared with director Darren Aronofsky. From Ram's slouch as he drags his suitcase around town to the dull lighting and tawdry sets, Aronofsky's wrestler is an object of pathos, not tragedy. As such, his tragic flaws seem as if they were pasted on by an eager screenwriter. These flaws should either have been removed from the script or else honored in the direction.

Except for this weakness, the directing was careful, subtle, and effective. If you excuse the half-baked tragedy and melodramatic aspects, you will be rewarded with a beautiful, uncommon film that traces the universal sadness of old age and lost purpose embodied in the muscular bulk of a uniquely American folk hero, and you will emerge from the theater emotionally exhausted but cathartically sated.

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