| By John Finnegan
Writing tragic characters is a delicate balance of evoking empathy, creating complexity, and delivering a narrative arc that resonates deeply with audiences. Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler stands as a masterclass in how to write tragic characters, weaving a tale that is as much about personal redemption as it is about the inevitability of self-destruction.
A Personal Connection to Tragedy
Watching The Wrestler in a small arthouse cinema in Cork remains one of my most vivid movie-going experiences. Growing up as a die-hard wrestling fan, I was enthralled by the film’s unflinching portrayal of life behind the scenes—far removed from the glitz and spectacle of the WWE. Aronofsky stripped the profession of its glamour, revealing the physical, emotional, and financial toll it exacts on those who dedicate their lives to it.
But wrestling is only the backdrop. The true strength of The Wrestler lies in its near-perfect narrative structure and its tragic protagonist, Randy "The Ram" Robinson—a man whose greatest battle isn’t in the ring but within himself.
The Tragic Arc of Randy "The Ram"
The film begins by establishing Randy’s plight: a once-glorious wrestler now grappling with poverty, physical decline, and estrangement from his family. By the end of the first act, he suffers a heart attack, a turning point that forces him to confront the life he’s built—or, more accurately, the one he’s ruined.
The second act shifts focus from his wrestling career to his personal relationships. Here, the story’s true core emerges: Randy’s attempt to reconcile with his estranged daughter, Stephanie, and to forge a connection with Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), a friend and love interest who sees him as more than just "The Ram."
However, the climax of this act delivers a gut-wrenching blow. Randy, given a chance to repair his relationship with Stephanie, falters. His old habits and inability to change lead to a betrayal that severs their bond for good. By the third act, Randy is faced with a final choice: return to wrestling, the only life he’s ever known, or embrace the fragile connections he’s begun to rebuild.
Change: The Illusion and the Opportunity
In screenwriting, we’re often told that characters must undergo a transformation by the end of their journey. But The Wrestler challenges this notion, illustrating that sometimes, the tragedy lies not in a character’s inability to change, but in their refusal to seize the opportunity to do so.
Randy’s story doesn’t lack for opportunities. Before his final match, Cassidy offers him a lifeline, urging him to stay and consider a different path. Later, she appears at the wrestling show, a quiet act of support and a reminder that he’s not alone. Each moment is laden with possibility, a chance for Randy to step off the path of destruction and into a life of redemption.
Yet Randy’s choices are telling. He refuses these lifelines, not because he doesn’t care, but because he believes he is incapable of being anything more than "The Ram." His identity is so entangled with his past glory that the idea of living without it feels impossible.
Why Tragic Endings Resonate
The power of The Wrestler’s ending lies in its devastating duality. On one hand, it’s heartbreaking to watch Randy leap from the top rope, knowing it may be his final act. On the other, the tragedy is amplified because we know he had the chance to turn back. He could have chosen life, connection, and love—but he didn’t.
This refusal doesn’t render Randy unsympathetic; instead, it humanizes him. Tragic characters are compelling because they mirror the complexities of real life. We see ourselves in their struggles, their flaws, and their inability to make the "right" choices, even when those choices are clear.
How to Write Tragic Characters
If you’re writing a tragic character, consider the following:
Root Their Tragedy in Their Choices: The most compelling tragic characters don’t simply suffer from external circumstances—they actively participate in their own downfall. Give your character opportunities to change, and let their refusal or inability to do so become the core of their tragedy.
Show the Humanity in Their Struggles: Even when your character makes the wrong choices, ensure their motivations are relatable. Randy’s clinging to wrestling isn’t just stubbornness; it’s his way of holding onto a sense of identity and purpose.
Balance Despair with Hope: Tragedy is most impactful when it’s counterbalanced with glimmers of hope. Randy’s story isn’t bleak for the sake of it—it’s his proximity to redemption that makes his fall so devastating.
Conclusion
The Wrestler exemplifies how to write a tragic character whose downfall is as much about missed opportunities as it is about their inherent flaws. By giving Randy chances to change, Aronofsky doesn’t just create a tragic hero—he creates a mirror for us to reflect on our own lives and choices. And that is the true power of a well-crafted tragedy.
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