The Art of Self-Destruction: The Rise and Fall of Mickey Rourke
Homage to Great Acting and Oblivion...
There are possibly few other celebrities who have had as rocky a relationship with the media as Mickey Rourke. A major star in the 1980s, Rourke and his bad-boy antics caused him to be marginalized by Hollywood by the early 1990s. Mickey Rourke’s career is one of unfulfilled potential. As an actor who could have had a stellar acting career complete with Oscar nominations and awards, as observed by film critics, Rourke would instead see the seedier aspects of Hollywood and the downside of fame. Drug abuse, altercations with the law, a failed boxing career and phenomenally awful films—Rourke has still captured the public eye by making his self-destruction an art form. The pseudo-real-life narrative of a rising star peaking in popularity, and then experiencing a demise, only to be reborn again, is a familiar reality that many stars experience within the depths of Hollywood-styled patterns of behavior. These patterns of behavior are contrived through years of a cyclical saturation of wealth and excess throughout Hollywood’s various venues and through its various constituents. The story of Mickey Rourke can also be viewed through the lens of wastefulness, suffering, and redemption,.
Mickey Rourke began his career at the Actor’s Studio in New York City, an institution that was founded by Method practitioner and teacher, Lee Strasberg. Strasberg learned his craft from the classically trained, Stanislavsky who brought new ideas and dynamics to the craft of acting. Successful actors of the 1950s through present times were engaged with the Method school of acting and its practitioners included Brando, DeNiro, Pacino, Keitel, Ellen Burstyn, and Meryl Streep. All of those mentioned went on to have successful careers.
The Method School of Acting requires that the actor immerses him or herself entirely into the role that he or she is playing. This includes acting like, thinking like, and behaving like the character even in the off screen time. Rourke’s parallel of immersion into character and his own life events seem to eerily suggest that he just may be always in character. This is why Rourke’s actual life seems to fall into blending of fiction, nonfiction, and contradiction. It is as if Rourke’s behavior was a predictable story in which he starred. His schizoid-like immersion into character reminds the spectator just how intensively powerful the craft of acting can be. Yet, underneath it all is sort of semi-conscious enactment of biblical proportions. Rourke’s duel immersion in his “real” life and life on screen seems to be merged as a spectacle for all to see.
Rourke frequently explains that he “partied hard” as he tells Newsweek, “My career started in the ‘80s and ended in the 90s because of that nightlife” (Setodeh 64). However, there is no doubt among critics and audiences that he was talented and honed that talent at the Actor’s Studio. Pauline Kael, one of the most influential film critics of the 70s and 80s was once noted as saying about Rourke in his earliest breakout role, Body Heat (1982), “Mickey Rourke almost makes you feel that you’re at a real movie”(qtd.in Walsh 134). It can be inferred from Kael’s comment that Rourke’s artistry is one of verisimilitude and realism. After all, the most important objective that a Method actor can aspire to is realism. Rourke is clearly influenced by films that have been heralded as masterpieces in realism such as Mean Streets(1973), Taxi Driver(1976), Serpico (1974), Dog Day Afternoon (1975), and clearly aligned himself with the players in the film. Look at the performance of De Niro in Mean Streets and then reevaluate Rourke in Pope and you will strikingly familiar similarities. They include street vernacular, Italian- American slang, exaggerated and hyperbolic use of American idioms.
To understand Rourke’s life, the reader has to acknowledge that Hollywood its own self-contained universe. Theoretically, it can be posited that it is its only entity with rules and behaviors all its own. Hollywood, meaning the people and places that make up the filmmaking and television industry, is known to be extremely cliquish, nepotistic, and political. Rourke explains his disillusionment with the Hollywood universe and states his view: “I saw that so much politics was involved in moviemaking. I thought it was about hard work and actors like Al Pacino and Robert De Niro. But you can be mediocre and still be a movie star, To me, when I learned that, it ruined everything. Then I hated it” (Setodeh 64). Despite disillusionment, Rourke continued to do some excellent work within the confines of Hollywood.
As aforementioned, Rourke’s earliest breakout role was the “rock and roll” arsonist in Body Heat. He was acclaimed for his performance particularly by Pauline Kael, and the film was a box office success. Body Heat was among several in the wave of neo-noir films that echoed the images found in the post- World War II genre of film noir. Who better to personify the new generation of sexy, tough antiheroes than Rourke, himself? Speaking slightly above a whispery tone, Rourke has the ability to scare, intimidate, or charm.
In another early breakout role that garnered critical attention, Diner (1982), Rourke played sly ladies’ man, “Boogie”. The film directed by Barry Levinson was a sleeper hit depicting a small town twenty-somethings in the 1960s and the favorite eatery they frequent after a hard day’s night acting up. Rourke established himself as a seriocomic, capable of handling both intense drama, and humorous hybrid films. However, it wasn’t until the other sleeper hit, The Pope of Greenwich Village (1982) and minor cult flick that Rourke was on everyone’s list for rising star. Jack Kroll of Newsweek states, “Mickey Rourke is a stirring young actor with a tough poetry about him -- the Brando and De Niro effect. He needs to watch himself -- his sleepy-voiced, beatific-brute style could congeal into self-parody, but he keeps his balance here, notably in a sweetly bristling break-up scene in which his Wasp girl outpunches him three to one” (68).
The Pope of Greenwich Village is a loving portrayal of Little Italy/ Greenwich Village Italian-American cousins who get into big trouble with the local mob boss. Rourke and Roberts were quite complimentary to one another. Instead, of a familiar threatening atmosphere that comes throughout your standard mob-movie, The Pope of Greenwich Village, takes an approach of studying characters on the fringes of organized crime with clownish, satirical overtones. Rourke lent his tough-guy sensibilities to make the role unforgettable.
Rourke made another provocative choice in roles starring with Kim Basinger about a steamy love affair that increasingly gets more and more kinky in 9 ½ weeks(1986). It has been pondered what Rourke was thinking when he had chosen this role-one without depth or breadth. Rather than a piece of serious filmmaking, the film was regarded with disdain earning the “Razzie Award” for Worst Film of the Year. Although, Rourke appeared sexy and alluring on screen, Basinger has stated repeatedly that Rourke was like a “human ashtray,” indicating his addiction to cigarettes produced offensive odor. It seemed that this is a further manifestation of Rourke’s descent into perceived sin and carnality and also obsession came from this atmospheric and erotic film. This descent would further enhance the biblical fallen angel paradigm that Rourke enacted both on screen and off.
In 1986, Rourke would use that whispery, intimidating, and charming voice, to again bring character and style to yet another neo-noir, Angel Heart (1986). The film was a direct nod to the detective genre of the past. Only, in this film, there is a supernatural element. Rourke is sent a quest to find out what happened to Johnny Angel. The quest brings him to the highways and byways of New Orleans. He discovers voodoo rituals and practices. He discovers danger. He also finds out a lot more about himself than he ever thought possible.
In Angel Heart, director Alan Parker creates a seedy, sweaty and thick atmosphere of intrigue and perversity. It is hard to imagine the lead in Parker’s film as anyone else but Rourke. Again, Rourke’s choice roles straddles the fine line between art, sensation, and perversity. Rourke at this point does not select conventional roles. He hand picks creative and dynamic ones that challenge him creatively. As a result, he begins to taunt the viewer and this may be the seed of resentment that he would later go onto sow against his audience and the industry.
Angel Heart was another one of Rourke’s roles to have biblical overtones. Johnny Angel is hired Louis Cipher, or Lucifer played by Robert De Niro. Angel finds out his search is for a missing musician and finds out it was himself all along looking for his former self because he sold his soul to devil. Again, there is a subtle inference in the role that mirrors Rourke’s own life. Did Rourke figuratively sell his soul to devil to achieve status and wealth, and did he indeed become disorientated and corrupted by influences? It is ironic that 9 ½ weeks came out at the same time as this film. If 91/2 weeks was his initial descent into hellish dwelling, than Angel Heart was the most clearly defined image of this narrative. After all, the character in Angel Heart ultimately takes elevator straight to hell crying, “I know who I am” (Parker 1986). Does Rourke know who he is? Did he ever?
After Angel Heart, Rourke idiosyncrasies began showing through in Barfly, when he reputedly dressed the part and was so in character that he refused to bathe. Although much of Rourke’s work was in several minor films and b-movies, his work in say Barfly boasting a subtle tone, and quirky style, is among the favorites of many of die-hard Rourke fans. The film was a cinematic depiction of the life of Charles Bukowski, a poet known as “the low life laureate,” a term coined by TIME magazine in 1986. Bukowski was a cult figure in the 70s and 80s and is known for his desperate alcoholic episodes and his paradoxically unusual sensitivity to the world around him which he resented. One could argue through observation of Bukowksi’s work, his own aesthetic was born. Again, we see a desperate character at once comically irreverent and a simultaneous revelation of heartfelt humanistic aesthetics, being depicted by Mickey Rourke, and indeed Rourke’s own life seems to mirror this figure, especially in the later work of The Wrestler, which signified the dichotomy that this actor is.
“Disillusionment with the dismal movies he was sleepwalking through, in the early 90s Rourke made that decision to semi-retire from acting and take up boxing—his passion as a teenager. He thought he might finally find peace—or at least oblivion—in the ring. ‘I liked the discipline of it,’ he says, ’The technique and the science of it, to me it was therapeutic. Over the next five years Rourke won eight professional fights…..When Rourke chose to give up boxing in 1995 rather than run the risk of suffering permanent brain damage, he found himself back at the bottom” (Nashawaty 1027 ).
Esquire Magazine contacted Rourke for an interview in 2004. In this brief encounter, Mike Sagar makes notes in his prologue citing that “The critics agreed: Rourke could act his ass off. But then he self-destructed, He then left Miami, fell in with a bad crowd. He took up boxing, presided over the systematic deconstruction of his face (46). In a sense, the deconstruction of Rourke’s face can be paralleled to his self-destruction. The operations were an effort to erase self. They may even have been a form of self-hatred and abuse. Also, it was an attempt to escape who he was and had been, or maybe a way to take control of a life in a desperate manner, the thing he was desperately losing control of.
This decision of Rouke to give up acting for fighting signaled the demise of his first career. The retirement led to the demise of is extra-filmic pursuits and he found himself back at the bottom and on a path that led to destruction before a third career. This third career would be an unconventional acting repertoire in films that were considered offbeat by many. For example, he plays a bookie in Vincent Gallo’s Buffalo 66 (1997). His performance is eccentric and authentic, lacerating, and brief. He takes risks that he was limited by in A list leading men films. Finally pieces of substantial quality after Rourke fought long and hard to gain back admittance into a society that he figuratively thumbed his nose at would come to him.
Rourke had another extracurricular activity that came along with his numerous endeavors; that would be his use of cocaine and other drugs. Not only visible in Rourke’s career, but in other celebrity careers it is evident that being a celebrity not only means being popular, sought-after, and admired. A person’s rise to stardom and ultimate downfall is the subject of so many publications and websites.
It is sometimes in vain to blame actors and actresses who have successful careers and demonstrate artistry, whose careers suddenly plummet. The public is also fickle in what they watch and find entertainment value in. So much is placed on superficialities and appearances, which is why so many struggling artists get lost in the shuffle. Very often the downfalls of successful people in Hollywood are based upon bad luck, but what significantly impact their lives are the choices they make. When the term “choices” is used, it is meant to imply the type of affiliations one aligns oneself with, or the choice to maintain a healthy lifestyle, and finally it is meant to imply the choices Hollywood artists make in terms of their work, livelihood, and the roles they choose. Just one bad film and many actors and actresses that have been on top, see their popularity an influence decrease ten-fold. Rourke explains in an interview with Johnny Depp that “there are a couple of guys that won Academy Awards for the things I turned down” (173).
Just like bad film choices can influence a star’s marketability, so does other lifestyle choices. It seems that in Hollywood, it is very easy to fall out of favor with the public. And when the public disfavors you and you stop being on the A-list, the question for the former “Star,” where can they go from here? The pressures of the entertainment lifestyle can overwhelm. However, as in the case of Mickey Rourke, there can be a shred of redemption. Fulfilling the final phase of the spiral to a gradual spiritual and mental rebirth on screen, Rourke was lucky enough to find a way out of his very, often pathetic existence. The public likes a success story every now and again, and the rebirth of Rourke in films such as Sin City (2005), The Wrestler (2007) and Iron Man 2 (2011).
If one traces the cycle of abuse that Rourke has inflicted on himself, with very, visible scar tissue on his face, one can easily surmise the fact that this is a person who is never happy, obsessive, and consumed with outward appearances. It is evident that to be an actor, one’s appearance is essential. By making himself ugly, Rourke is subversively and subconsciously rebelling against traditional beauty. While being simultaneously obsessed with his appearance, Rourke wants to flush the whole outward beauty “thing” down the toilet. When at last he is foreboding, rough, torn up, he has found roles that suited the new, rugged and menacing-looking Rourke. The Wrestler is one such role, where Rourke looks enormously muscular and intimidating, but at the same time, arouses pathos in the viewer. Yet Rourke reemerges from his absence as a sort of half-deformed fallen angel who has emerged from his chrysalis, a new being.
One of the famous lines of The Wrestler, “I am just a broken down, piece of meat, but I don’t want you to hate me”(Aronofsky 2007). The scene in which Rourke speaks these words to his daughter is extraordinarily poignant, and at the same time, eerily mirrors Rourke own relationship with the public. Rourke is no stranger to failed relationships. For example, after the soft-core porn film Wild Orchid (1989), Rourke fell in with who would ultimately became his wife, Carrie Otis. The tabloids abounded in the late 80s with tales of the twosome’s heroin addiction, accusations of abuse to Otis, by Rourke, and other unsavory elements of Rourke’s neuroses. After all, the key to the Rourke’s failings is neurotic. However, the public has responded and continues to respond to him through a joint-neurosis. It is public/private dysfunctional relationship that Rourke not only shares with the public, but with many other dysfunctional public star breakdowns as well. There happens to be a bit of schadenfreude, or primitive response in the viewer to find enjoyment in the troubles of others.
Schadenfreude is not a new concept. However, in the 1980s with the huge spurt in television talk shows that reduced actors and everyday people alike to dysfunctional freak-like phenomenon. Yet Rourke has his own voice, and above all has impeccable artistry. This is why Rourke brings pleasure. This is why I think Rourke has sought redemption and received a reprieve from the public.
The tabloids were filled with images of Rourke in the 1990s, and he was accused of causing disruptions, of domestic abuse, and of submersion into the drug underworld. The tabloids seem to exploit Schadenfreude in the everyday public. Fortunately, Rourke was able to recover from the rumors, lies, half-truths, and even from the actual events that occurred later. However, when Rourke disappeared for a five year hiatus, all manners of rumors floated and his appearances grew increasingly more grotesque and bizarre. He was in a handful of straight- to -video films such as Bullet (1996) with Tupac Shakur, Thicker than Blood (1998), and a few others. However, it is important to examine the fact that Rourke went from a “hearthrob” to a thug in these later films. Was Rourke somehow commenting on the type of “pretty-boy” roles he was offered? One thing is for certain that Rourke’s budget was getting increasingly lower and he himself in an interview with Mickey Rourke that, “it’s very frustrating because if you don’t make money, then it’s very hard for you to continue to do the work you want to do ( Depp 173).
It is possible too that many artists and actors in Hollywood take their success for granted. They suffer from “Too-much-too-soon” syndrome. A great deal of wealth followed by debauchery saturates the young and successful. In many cases, the subject is not prepared to handle these different corrupting influences. They seek to self-medicate from the pressure and tension. They turn to media junkies and try outrageous acts to keep the emphasis of the media on them. In a way, the subjects feel like even bad attention is better than no attention. Such is the case with Rourke. In a sense, Rourke staged his own failed coup against the political and constricting influences of Hollywood. When he felt himself alone and suffering, he acted out in various scenarios involving domestic abuse, drugs, and physical violence. As aforementioned, Rourke was an extraordinarily talented actor who threw a great deal of his success away. and this disregard for his career raises questions about whether or no Rourke was trying to spite the industry, the public, or may be even his own nose to spite his face.
It is evident that certain successful Indie directors such a Quentin Tarantino, Darren Aronofsky, Vincent Gallo, and Martin Scorsese who are also film buffs, tend to take ghosts and shells of past Hollywood and recast them in new films. Tarantino saved Travolta’s career this way while Gallo cast actors like Jan Michael Vincent and Ben Gazzara. Scorsese used the likes of Martin Sheen, Don Rickles, and L.Q. Jones. From out of the ashes and thrones of addiction and hardship, Aronofsky would rescue Rourke and provide the redemption he needed in the from of the Role of the Wrestler, which again mirrored his own life.
Mickey Rourke has had a tumultuous career and life. Fortunately, despite his philandering away from Hollywood, he was given a second chance to redeem his career. Second chances are difficult to earn back from an industry that is usually very unforgiving. Rourke’s transformation is from well-groomed poster-boy, to brutish looking thug to player of rugged antiheroes. Rourke’s symbolic desecration of his nose and face, coincided with his the destruction of his career and relationships. It was evident that Rourke had self-destructive tendencies and it was his own self that contributed the most to his demise. However, the rise and fall and ultimate redemption of Rourke is the “stuff” Hollywood is made of. Not only can there be rags to riches, but in recent trends, it can be rags to riches to rags, to rising star again. Mickey Rourke is a conundrum, an enigma, and riddle. He disguises true feelings in his correspondence with the media, which seem to manifest themselves in his performances. In tracing the trajectory of Rourke’s career-highs and lows in all- celebrity scholars can learn about recent celebrity cultural shifts in performers and ultimately stars’ lifestyles. Yet what seems to be the most substantial idea derived from the life and rise and fall of Mickey Rourke is the spiritual redemption narrative that he has enacted in both his life in the cinema and his personal life. This narrative is a blend of fiction, non-fiction, and contradiction. It is a classic tale of descent in to depravity and then rising from the depths.
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