Darren Aronofsky goes bare bones with his new film The Wrestler, about a man facing his failures and mortality while desperately clinging to the one thing he was successful at. Randy “The Ram” Robinson is played masterfully by Mickey Rourke. His performance is one that is being fawned over this year, but it is 100% deserved. Everyone is squealing about Rourke’s comeback, almost surprised by his talent, but personally I always thought he was pretty awesome, and The Wrestler is his awesomeness magnified.

The rough and tumble life of wrestling is scrutinized, but Aronofsky seems to understand the appeal, not only for the fans but the wrestlers themselves. It never comes off as condescending, but Ram is unquestionably a sad figure. The juxtaposition of his past life on top, and current life on the bottom is characterized perfectly with his physical body. He is CUT, impressively cut, but he is broken. Every joint and muscle aches, there are countless scars covering his tanning bed orange skin, his bleached hair hangs like a proud mane gone limp. He’s trying to keep it alive so hard because if the wrestling goes there is literally nothing but an empty room for him to go home to.

His daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) despises and feels rejected by him. There is no angry ex-wife roaming around, no disappointed parents or siblings either. The only person he feels remotely connected to is a stripper named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) whom he wants to make an honest woman out of. Cassidy’s situation parallels Randy’s in that they’re both aging professionals who’ve made a living selling themselves, but they’re at a fork in the road where their age is signifying a need for change. Randy gets a particularly poignant wake up call when he suffers a heart attack after a brutal match. But what’s the appeal of life when you have nothing to live for? Cassidy has the opportunity to fair better because she has put her own child first and built a life for the two of them, which Randy clearly failed at with Stephanie. He reveled in the sound of the crowd, and that ends up being the only positive thing he can hold on to.

The final shot of the film is definitely going down as one of my favorites of all time; the way Rourke is posed, the lighting, the roar of the crowd, the steady build of the music, it’s perfect. Aronofsky handles another melancholy subject well, but there is a clear change in style. Clint Mansell’s score is kept to the bare minimum, the frenetic montages are nowhere in sight, and the compositions are less polished. The Wrestler is visually the exact opposite of The Fountain (which god damn it, I loved) but they share similar themes, which reveals the director’s unique stamp. Aronofsky seems more relaxed and confident, resulting in a more mature film. His films have always interested me, but this is the first where all cinematic acrobatics are left out, and it proves he can still make a great film.