Aronofsky learns that simple works best for critics

The buzz in film cyberspace on Friday was all about the trailer for Darren Aronofsky's new film, The Wrestler. Golden Lion winner at the Venice Film Festival in September and adorned with rave reviews by those there to see it, the film stars Mickey Rourke as an ageing, well, wrestler, struggling with angst-ridden personal relationships as he prepares for one final, redemptive shot at glory in the ring. Add in the background travails of blue-collar life and cynical critics - the kind that savaged Aronofsky's previous film, The Fountain - could well have been drawn to dismiss this as nought more than Rocky in spandex.

So what's changed, both for Aronofsky and the critics? Being a massive fan of The Fountain, I must admit I was a little taken aback when I first heard rumblings of The Wrestler's much more conventional, zero-to-hero type plotline. For me, The Fountain had shown a young director, on only his third feature film, treating cinema as pure art form to create something truly original. But for all its dense interweaving of metaphor, emotion and imagery, the film bombed at the box office and divided opinion virtually 50/50, with the critical half almost incredulous at the conviction with which Aronofosky had seen through his vision.

Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/philgyford/386747174/

This has led me to wonder if the accolades for The Wrestler really just signal critical approval for Aronofsky reigning it in. In one respect this certainly isn't true - an auteur like Aronofsky wouldn't be dictated to by the critics, and in fact he's long shown interest at turning his hand to more mainstream, straight narrative fare (Aronofsky was hired to helm the Batman reinvention before the project fell apart and is currently working on the new Robocop movie). But I think it does show that rampant creativity and talent is only fully appreciated when it is applied to something broadly palatable. This can be seen with other young directors like Paul Thomas Anderson - experimental films like Magnolia (complete with raining frogs and coincidental split narratives) had already made him a cult hero before mainstream opinion chose to vigorously endorse him for There Will Be Blood - a film where his vision was applied to something sparse and simplistic, in the mould of a traditional western. It's just a shame, then, that some critics can't be as open-minded and adaptable as the filmmakers.

This post was written by Jonathan Bacon. You can contact Jonathan at Jbacon@uclan.ac.uk