8.5
Amazon Prime Video

Sean Durkin's gorgeous, swooning, heartbreaking sports melodrama alternates smoothly between the warmth and tactility of brotherly bonds (the film feels at times more than a little bit like a male version of LITTLE WOMEN) and the utter devastation that comes with the premature sundering of those bonds. Less interested in biopic accuracy-- I am well aware that those who know the history of this period of American professional wrestling have bristled at some of the changes made to story and chronology-- THE IRON CLAW instead operates as a powerful, lyrical, non-judgmental exploration of male intimacy and emotional need, and the way in which societal expectations work to stifle those needs. It is also about familial pressure to succeed at all costs, critiquing the macho "be the best, nobody remembers second place" ethos that finds its purest expression here in the context of pro-wrestling, a sport which, whilst treated here with a pleasing level seriousness and respect as a physical endeavour (and the wrestling scenes really do look incredible), is portrayed as a brutal playground for toxic masculinity to run amok.

And yet, more than anything, it is the sheer tenderness of the film that impresses the most, conveyed by a series of, frankly, flawless performances from both the up and comers (White, Dickinson, Simons, James) and the old hands (Holt McCallany in particular is unbelievably good in this film-- capable of fatherly warmth and affection one moment, frightening coldness the next). But it is, of course, Zac Efron who is the true revelation here, delivering a career-best performance of physicality and emotional weight-- especially in the haunting second half of the film in which you can almost physically feel each devastating emotional blow bouncing off him and coming off the screen, his attempt to hold it together-- "men don't cry" is his father's mantra, passed on to his children like a virus-- all the more harrowing for the fact that he clearly is not coping with the sheer scale and sheer cruelty of the losses he has suffered. If Efron doesn't have you sobbing by his final scene-- hell, if he doesn't make you cry on at least three separate occasions during this film-- then I don't know what to tell you. It makes it all the more incredible that Efron was not even nominated for an Academy Award-- indeed, awards were thin on the ground for this film generally-- it is the best performance of the year, in my opinion.

Ultimately, Durkin (stepping up here massively in terms of scale and ambition) has created a miracle of a film here: heart-rending without feeling overly melodramatic, tender without slipping into schmaltz. The second half of the film especially has so many moments which feel like they could easily be Oscar-bait tear-jerkers, but Durkin steadfastly refuses to ever over-egg the pudding, producing a film which is more quietly devastating than loud and show-offy (to be fair, I think I might have just answered my own question about why the film did not get any serious awards love). This perfectly suits a film about men bursting with just-under-the-surface emotion but unable to find a way to show it or process it, preferring instead to slide deeper into machismo, vices (performance-enhancing drugs, alcohol) and obsessions about family curses. But it is also a film about finding a way to break that cycle, something which gives the film a real sense of hope.

Overall-- this is a wonderful film, one of the best of the year, highly recommend!

Also, the score and cinematography is wonderful.