This is the Mickey Rourke in me. His man was the same as that beast. How many vicissitudes are still standing after the pain, how many unknown savage fragility. I fell in love with you in Sin City, ravine face, fierce muscles and strong body. I really met you in Wrestling King. Just as I imagined. Strong but old, still on your stage, a stage that no one understands, alone as an old man on the wrestling ring.
If you don't know that this is your autobiographical movie, how can you really feel heartache from those blood drippings. You are a beast I fear, but the torture and sickness of the flesh makes me feel that your strength is also vulnerable. I think from the beginning to the end of the movie, I have been in pain, I know this is your life, I can't criticize or discourage, I can't intervene or comfort, I can only be a person sitting in front of the screen, watching you suffer The pain and the delay of the years. I know you are old. You never mind having your face mutilated or not even recognizing the handsomeness of the past. I know it's your pride, so it's never your face that I love.
Only through the vicissitudes of life can you feel that you are powerless. Who knows, the feeling of life being slowly crushed by time, when you are old, there is no place to return, even if you clumsily seek love, you still mess up everything.
Mickey Rourke, I understand your pride. No one can judge your life rashly. You are a lonely wolf warrior, and you may have to exhaust your efforts and time to truly end everything on such a battlefield.
I like the ending so much that I don't need to say too much. Besides, this is an autobiographical film in itself, and ending here is also considered a complete merit. No need to be too provocative, I understand that this is the real you. This is the first time I cry for a real person in a movie, and the first time I can't bear to watch it again for a real person in a movie.
I will not forget.
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