“Well, I’m an axe grinder piledriver. My mother says that I never, never mind her.”

Not much on TV. Regis and Kelly seems to be the best bet. Listening to the two of them makes me want to eat a bullet.

When I first received the film festival programme book, the one film that I was stoked about from the get-go was the first film I saw today. Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler. Today was also the day I brought someone up for the fest. Usually, I bring someone new in to experience it. The lucky one (or unlucky one depending on the films I pick) this year is my bud Dayna. Those of you who are fans of the Film Junk podcast have heard her mentioned many times and those of you who have shopped in my store have seen her standing around doing nothing.

While waiting in line for the film I got a call from an old radio college buddy named Rob. He’s doing a midday show in Sarnia, Ontario and asked me to do an on-air bit with him about my time in the fest. Sarnia now knows The Gasman as one of Canada’s world renowned film critics. His words, not mine. Guess I’m still famous.

On to the film. If you’re a fan of Aronofsky’s films you should know that this one is unlike his others, but it is still awesome. It recently took top prize at the Venice Film Festival as well. It stars Mickey Rourke as Randy “The Ram” Robinson, a wrestler who was huge in the 80’s and has now been reduced to wresting in the independent circuit (i.e. high school gyms) for petty cash. He’s fallen on hard times and can barely make rent, has lost touch with his daughter, spends most of his time with a stripper — played by a smoking hot Marisa Tomei — and has taken some extra hours working the deli counter at the local supermarket. Top that off with a heart attack and you’ve got a pretty sad and tortured soul.

Mickey Rourke is brilliant and he looks amazing… except for the gross meaty paws that he calls hands. Get some moisturizer my friend. The film soundtrack is amazing featuring classics from Cinderella, RATT and Quiet Riot. I have to say as a wrestling fan this showed a very accurate picture of what indy wrestling is like behind the scenes. Thumbs up all the way.

Got some time between films so we grab a slice at Amato’s and waltz around the Eaton Centre. Dayna decided to get some ice cream and proceeded to get it everywhere. It was like walking around with a six year old. Just kidding, Champ!! Inside the Eaton Centre was the best dressed man I’ve ever seen. Gold suit. Gold!! Gold shirt. Gold hat. Gold tie. Gold shoes. Cane with a metal bird head for a handle. Watch, rings, necklace – Bling! All on a 60 year old black man. Sweeeeeeet! It’s hard out here for a pimp!

The next film was a documentary called The Dungeon Masters. It was mainly about three adults and their love of Dungeons and Dragons and how it fits into their everyday lives. Nerds. Geeks. Dorks. It was pretty funny, although I’m not too sure how funny it was supposed to be. One man, an author who may have been one of the laziest people I have ever seen wears his character costume often enough that he picks up his son from school in it. Another man, who apparently has no idea he is gay, leads a group of gamers in a monthly game and takes joy in killing off the characters that his friends have created. I’d have punched the guy in the face.

Both of these men are married to women who have no interest in the game and it shows a bit of strain on the marriages. The third person is a girl in her early 20’s who paints her body in black paint and wears a silver wig and spends a lot of time dressed as a dark elf. She might be the most delusional of the lot. If you’ve seen Trekkies, this film has the same feel. All three of these people are in relationships. I am single. Excuse me while I throw myself in front of a subway train.

I wrote of suicide twice in the report. Yikes!

Got one, possibly two films Wednesday.

I remain,
Greg

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