A cinematic slice of life reminds Austin that the law is a philosophical challenge, as much as it is a practical one. And don't forget your spandex.

Among the chaff of all of this week’s activities - hammering away the cases and transactions at the coalface, attending to multifarious chauffeuring and domestic duties, and cramming in some exercise time, there was a jewel. But not strictly a legal one.

It may be self-indulgence on my part, but I want to tell you about a film. I went to see The Wrestler. My usual co-attendee at cinemas flatly refused to come along, preferring “something a bit more cheerful”, so I was the saddo in the pictures on my own. I tried to project myself as a serious movie critic instead of a lonely middle-aged man. Indeed before I say more about Wednesday’s film, I must relate to you my James Bond experience. When Casino Royale came out, I planned to see it some free evening, but before I could do so, I happened to be in Edinburgh one Friday for a Law Society of Scotland function. My plan was to get a tea-time train through to Auld Reekie, and meet my sister for a drink before I went on to the Society dinner. As it turned out, my sis was not available due to the duties of some case or other she was on ( she is a senior solicitor advocate for the Crown), so I had a couple of hours to kill.

I was just thinking what pal I could shout up when I noticed I was walking by the cinema up the road from Haymarket station. They were showing the Bond movie, so I could kill two birds with one stone. It was only when I felt some odd looks from the box-office staff as I went in that I began to appreciate my situation. I was on my own, dressed in a dinner suit and black tie, and wearing a raincoat over the top of it. Clearly to anyone observing me this was a James Bond fetishist preparing to sit there in the dark cocking his Walther PPK or whatever.

Anyway, to our tale. The Wrestler was billed in the cinema publicity as an existentialist tragic-comedy ( boy! way to sell it to them!! As my mother used to say I’ve had a better night with the toothache), and the reviewers I had read all said that Mickey Rourke is magnificent, but without him the story would be predictable and only moderately interesting. I beg to differ. Rourke is groin-grabbingly good (pace Homer Simpson) both in his lines and in the ring, but the whole film is a multi-layered and gripping adventure in loneliness, love and loss.

Randy “the Ram” Robinson is an ageing wrestler who was a national figure 20 years ago but now trudges round local gyms and social clubs on a lowly circuit, performing for small crowds of devotees long after other contemporaries have hung up their spandex. As the film unfolds, it becomes clear that the wrestling circuit is his home and the fellow grapplers are his family. Three things happen in the film: he gets a heart attack and has to retire, he tries to mend fences with his estranged daughter, and he tries to form a relationship with a stripper in the club he goes to after work. As these strands of the story proceed, he is made to reflect on his life and place in the world.

At this point the classic Hollywood movie would find him by a circuitous route reclaiming his health , happiness and the warmth of those whom he loves for a feelgood ending. But this does not happen, things get darker and darker for the Ram, and the conclusion which I won’t spoil for you is pure Shakespeare.

The hinge of the movie is this: everything about the wrestling game is false. There is no actual enmity between the participants ( they are all very friendly and respectful to each other in the dressing room). Randy’s real name is Robin Ramzinski, and when working in a supermarket he hates having a namebadge that says “Robin “ on it. His body is even false – it is pumped up with 57 varieties of drugs and steroids which he buys under the counter. His hair is dyed, his age is a lie, and so on.

But he loves the life, in contrast to the stripper Cassidy who also shows off her body for money. Away from the club she has a real life she is proud of – a young son and a respectable home, a real name Pam, and her attitude is 180 degrees from Randy’s. she strips to get money and has a plan – which she sticks to – to get out when she has made enough. And as for his daughter, she hates him, but he has a chance to regain her love.

And therein lies the heart – literally – of the story. Will Randy choose real life and the closeness of those who love him, or can he never break away from the ersatz love of the crowd, that has caused his heart to fail? He can’t have both.

I was utterly absorbed by the development of the Ram’s life. He is a tragic (in the Shakespearean sense) character , and the denseness of the script, the imagery and the other characters makes for a rich cinematic experience. I could see this being on the schools Highers syllabus, as it has as much in it as The Crucible or any classic play - though more nudity I guess.

I should be sorry to be rabbiting on about non-legal matters like this, but The Wrestler is a really important film. And what’s the law about if not human nature and the human condition? One of the reasons I am still running a firm with all its staff intact is that I can’t help being interested in people more than paperwork or just money . I find it fascinating hearing a chunk of someone’s life, boiling down to a precognition and trying to work with them to solve the problem. Why do marriages fail? Why has this person in front of me developed a drink problem? How much are they telling me and themselves the truth about their conduct? Why are they so aggressive and bitter?

Hopefully Mickey Rourke will get the Oscar for Best Actor.. His personal story is one of descent and redemption, and perhaps that adds even more to The Wrestler than there would have been with another actor playing Randy “The Ram “ Robinson. So the critics are partly right at least.

Austin