“The virtue of wrestling is that it is the spectacle of excess,” French theorist Roland Barthes, ‘Mythologies’
When I lived in Mexico many years ago, one of my favourite pastimes was a weekly visit to the wrestling ring. In the seaside town I was living in ‘Lucha Libre’ was king, and attending masked wrestling matches in Mexico City completely blew my mind. The strength, the theatricality and the passion of the audience were absolutely unfathomable to me previously; it truly was great spectacle at its best.
“The virtue of wrestling is that it is the spectacle of excess,” French theorist Roland Barthes, ‘Mythologies’
When I lived in Mexico many years ago, one of my favourite pastimes was a weekly visit to the wrestling ring. In the seaside town I was living in ‘Lucha Libre’ was king, and attending masked wrestling matches in Mexico City completely blew my mind. The strength, the theatricality and the passion of the audience were absolutely unfathomable to me previously; it truly was great spectacle at its best.
In Mexico the tradition has some serious history, despite the fact that the first lucha libre mask was a gimmick, a device used purely to excite the audience. In 1934, an American wrestler brought a leather mask down from Chicago, and a local star liked the idea. He was dubbed El Enmascarado - as in “The Masked Man” - and fought a few matches against Americans in Mexico City as there were only a handful of Mexican wrestlers at the time. This mask provided the model for all those that have followed: form-fitting and covering the entire head. Antonio Martinez, a sporting goods retailer, soon sewed a leather mask for Cyclone McKay, another American, who became El Maravilla Enmascarado - the Masked Marvel. Local newspapers began calling him “hated and mysterious” and almost overnight, the mask was a hit. Suddenly the Mexican public demanded to see wrestlers in masks, and the promoters realised they were on to a good thing. It was dramatic and it looked great, and the concept of the masked wrestler was here to stay.
Which brings me to the subject of ‘Our Heroes Died Tonight’ (Nos heros sont morts ce soir), an exquisitely filmed French film showing this week on Rialto. Shot in a black and white, neo-noir style, it was the debut outing for young writer-director David Perrault and gives more than a respectful nod to the work of the likes of Jean-Pierre Melville, Martin Scorsese and Quentin Tarantino.
Set in the criminal world surrounding professional wrestling in the 1960s in France, it follows Victor (Denis Ménochet of ‘Inglourious Basterds’ fame), a gentle giant who turns to wrestling for a crust after returning from a stint with the Foreign Legion in Algeria. Victor’s friend Simon (Jean-Pierre Martins) - known as “The Spectre” in the wrestling world - helps him to create an alter ego, “The Knacker of Belleville” (go figure?), and together they stage a rivalry to get the audiences truly worked up. A decision to secretly switch masks by one of the wrestlers, however, means that their modus operandi goes pear-shaped, and soon they are on the run from match-riggers and unpredictable hit men.
I had no idea there was such a history of masked wrestling in France prior to watching this film, but after doing a little delving I discovered that back in 1960's France, masked wrestling was not a kitsch, novelty sport with a cult following - it was serious business. According to the experts, it was not only a spectacle of brutality, but also a powerful assertion of good triumphing over evil. In each match, a white-masked wrestler fought it out with a black-masked one, and ultimately emerged victorious. Interesting stuff and clearly one of the reasons that Perrault opted for the noir style when filming his debut, which has been criticised for spending more time on aesthetics than storyline by reviewers, but I have to disagree.
An opening montage that beautifully mixes fight sequences with archive footage of the 1954-1962 colonial conflict outlines the film’s setting and major themes from the start, and I think both are honoured throughout. Tiny details like the sight of a masked wrestler sipping his red wine through a straw can be found throughout, and it’s hard not to get caught up in the drama and beauty of the whole shebang. If nothing else it’s a treat witnessing the beginnings of a tremendously talented young director with a clear passion for cinema, and knowing that he will undoubtedly go on to create even greater things.