Counted out: How wrestling drama could have been Zac Efron’s Oscar shot

THE IRON CLAW ★★½
(MA) 132 minutes

It would be a stretch to call the 1980s an age of innocence, but in hindsight it might be seen as the last decade when American culture was able to flourish, free of irony or aspirations to good taste. How far we’ve travelled since can be measured by Sean Durkin’s all-too-restrained The Iron Claw, an upmarket indie tearjerker set against the picturesque backdrop of pro wrestling.

Founded on fact, The Iron Claw follows the slow-motion implosion of the successful yet dysfunctional Von Erich family, a saga well-known to aficionados but not necessarily to the rest of us (whether you Google in advance is up to you, but the material is harrowing enough that it mightn’t hurt).

Beyond the Germanic surname they use as a professional alias, this rural Texan clan are pictured as archetypal red-state Americans, gun-loving and God-fearing. Patriarch Jack “Fritz” von Erich (Holt McCallany) lords it over his adult sons like a bullying high school gym coach, justifying his tough choices as necessary to keep the family safe.

Safe from what, exactly? Despite their triumphs in the ring, the family is cursed, or so says Kevin (Zac Efron), the oldest of Fritz’s sons to survive into adulthood. Kevin is no rocket scientist, but as one catastrophe follows another, we’re bound to wonder whether he’s onto something, or if not, whether what we’re faced with is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Yet, there’s also an idyllic side to the scenario, underscored by Matyas Erdely’s sunkissed cinematography. Shaggy-haired Kevin and his bros linger in a Mark Twain boyhood where wrestling is less a sport than an extension of childish horseplay, with dad scowling from afar and their pious mother (Maura Tierney) occasionally stepping out of the shadows with a bewildered look, as if she, too, had half-forgotten she existed.

Intentionally or not, the weirdness is underlined by the casting of Efron, supposedly in his twenties for most of the running time but visibly on the cusp of middle age.

Even if this wasn’t the case, the presentation of Kevin as a softhearted innocent might seem overdone, especially the sexual naivety he reveals when courted by a quick-witted fan (Lily James).

Another unresolved problem is how to reconcile the tragic weight of the story with wrestling, which has ties to circus and burlesque.

How seriously should we take a quest for greatness that involves going up against opponents such as Ric Flair (Aaron Dean Eisenberg), who swaggers into the ring in a pink boa and a robe that would suit Liberace? And if we don’t take it seriously, how foolish are these characters in the film’s eyes?

All of Durkin’s films deal with cults of one sort or another: a literal religious cult in his debut Martha Marcy May Marlene, the cult of financial success in his follow-up The Nest. Here, on one level, the family is the cult, but it’s as if he wants to make a bigger statement without quite knowing how to get there, something about how wrestling’s showier aspects stands for the hollowness of the American Dream.

I don’t know what approach would work for this material, but leaning further into the contradictions would be a good start. Ideally, that would mean leaving room for multiple perspectives rather than bringing everything back to Kevin and his dumbly earnest emotions, which he’s often seen processing in lengthy close-ups, as if the real dream were to get Efron an Oscar.

One thing clear even from afar is that the actual Von Erich story is too complex and too painful to be a simple matter of assigning blame.

Perhaps Fritz, who died in 1997, really was the tyrant portrayed here, or worse. But considering what he had to endure in his lifetime, painting him as a straightforward villain, or a heel in wrestling parlance, isn’t my idea of a classy move.

The Iron Claw is released in cinemas on January 18.

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