Saw The Wrestler tonight. I have a long history of extreme physical things, from professional aerialist to martial artist. Not to mention all the tree climbing when I was a kid. I only don't do it now because my body would break. And because painting turns out to be just as exciting.
But watching the movie tonight I was struck by how much sense it made to me...even all the really bloody, tearing-the-flesh stuff. In the midst of all that comes a deep pathos for the guy, who truly is a one-trick pony. Of course Picasso was one of those and so was Proust, and I think that is the core of it. Purity of intent and practice, in whatever form, has a perfect shape. It fills in all the crevices of that life with the juice that is available.
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I have not seen the film, yet. Years ago I was a big fan of Rourke's. I enjoyed the little films he made that, apparently, no one went to see: HOMEBOY, JOHNNY HANDSOME, BARFLY...great quirky movies.
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