Ring Cycles.(The Wrestler)(Movie review)

For some years, Mickey Rourke was just about my favorite movie star. This was not an easy stance to take. The body of the man's work was dismayingly thin, and the body of good work, from "Rumble Fish" onward, could be counted on the knuckles of one fist. As for the body of the man, it swelled from taut and slender to something so bulbous and spongiform that those of us who had thrilled to Boogie, his cocky romancer in "Diner," could only wince and look away. Yet I insist: there was a time when Rourke demanded to be looked at, catching and holding your eye no less grippingly than the young De Niro. Sweetness and menace were folded up in him--in the way that he angled ...