‘Queen of the Ring’ Review: Trailblazing Female Wrestler Mildred Burke Gets an Overly Solemn Biopic Treatment

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In the heat of a crucial wrestling bout, ‘Ruler of the Ring’ begins, depicting an athlete summoning every ounce of resolve to seize victory. The narrative unfolds, delving into the past, revealing the story of Mildred Burke (Emily Bett Rickards), a groundbreaking female figure in the testosterone-fueled wrestling industry. Ash Avildsen, the writer and director, strives to portray Burke’s life as an epic tale of triumph and resilience, yet falls short by omitting authentic dialogue and distinctive cinematic flair.

Covering approximately two decades in Burke’s life, from her beginnings in the 1930s to her ultimate championship victory in the 1950s, “Queen of the Ring” has a rich and extensive backstory. Avildsen, drawing inspiration from Jeff Leen’s book with the same title, approaches this tale diligently, but without much style or elegance. His script is characterized by the explicit introduction of characters, allowing the audience to grasp the historical context. The script seems to be written with heavy emphasis and a lack of nuance. It abounds in declarations and announcements rather than natural dialogue between people conversing. The movie alternates between extended wrestling match scenes and pivotal moments in Burke’s life, often using montages to bridge the years gap.

In the story, the viewers are introduced to Burke as a single mother who works at her mom’s burger restaurant. She harbors dreams of being an entertainer, but her skills in music and dance are less than stellar. Instead, she decides to try her luck in wrestling. This was a time when women weren’t permitted to wrestle professionally, making her aspirations seem unattainable. Yet, Burke remains steadfast in her pursuit of success.

Her career takes off when she manages to persuade promoter Billy Wolfe (Josh Lucas) to mentor her. Shortly after, they become a couple and embark on a journey touring carnivals with his son G. Bill (Tyler Posey). This helps Burke gain stardom and establish a female wrestling league. Alongside them form an unconventional family, which includes several other women in the ring such as Francesca Eastwood, Deborah Ann Woll, Marie Avgeropoulos, and Kelli Berglund. The movie illustrates that wrestling matches are merely entertainment, with their results typically predetermined. Consequently, Burke must be surrounded by cooperative opponents who can help shape a storyline and appeal to the audience.

Over time, Burke’s personal bond with Wolfe deteriorates due to his unfaithfulness and violent tendencies at home. Despite this, she remains married because he holds the reins in their business partnership. The situation becomes even more intricate when it seems the younger Wolfe could be the one to heal her emotional wounds. Yet, she persists in success after success, constructing an empire alongside Wolfe and lifting her family out of dire poverty. When Burke finds herself at a standstill and must rebuild almost everything from scratch, there’s no question of her ability to bounce back again.

In Avildsen’s portrayal, the story aims to inspire as one of valor, yet there’s scant reference to the socio-economic context of that period. Despite Burke being depicted as impoverished, neither the Great Depression nor World War II are discussed. The only historical event mentioned is civil rights, used to enhance Burke’s image as a pioneer by suggesting she opened her league to African American women. However, the sincere manner in which this issue is addressed, through a character stating that she’s “breaking barriers,” gives an impression of contrivance.

As a film enthusiast, I found that the consistency in Rickards’ performance throughout the movie was both her strength and weakness. Her portrayal of Burke was convincing as a determined athlete, full of bright-eyed enthusiasm. However, what could have added depth to the character was a more varied performance to reflect Burke’s emotional journey.

Regardless of the circumstances – whether Burke was in the ring, recovering from Wolfe’s abuse, or grappling with the complexities of falling in love with her son-in-law – Rickards maintained the same eager expression on her face. This uniformity might have been intended to show Burke’s unwavering resolve, but it also made it challenging for me as a viewer to fully connect with the character’s evolution and the range of emotions she experienced over time.

As a film enthusiast, I found that most of the cast delivered satisfactory performances, but none truly stood out with a memorable portrayal. However, Woll, in her role as the tragic wrestler Gladys Killem, crafted a character arc that felt authentic and compelling. She convincingly depicted Gladys’ journey from passionate naivety to resigned acceptance.

As a devoted moviegoer, I find myself constantly shifting my focus between the wrestling ring and the captivated audience. Little girls gaze at Burke with admiration, while spectators express their fervor for one wrestler or disdain for another. Yet, it seems as if everyone in the background shares a radiant expression, almost as if they’ve been instructed to maintain this fixed gaze towards the camera. This uniform display of enthusiasm diminishes the intensity of the wrestling matches.

Beyond this, Andrew Strahorn’s bright cinematography tends to make every setting – whether drab or elegant – appear uniform. Some scenes conclude in an unusual manner, with a prolonged shot that gradually fades into darkness. This could be meant to encourage viewers to focus on the events, or to highlight a significant shift. Regardless, it’s a jarring technique that detracts from the overall flow of the film.

he assigns the role of match announcer as narrator to provide viewers with updates on what transpires during and post-wrestling matches, which seamlessly fits into the storyline and propels it forward in a natural manner. However, there’s a discordant element in the epilogue title cards, where they label Wolfe, who has been portrayed as an abuser up until this point, as a pioneer in women’s wrestling. This inconsistency suggests that the filmmakers may have been hesitant to offend anyone, resulting in a film that leans more towards hagiography than a thorough biographical analysis.

In a runtime exceeding two hours, “Queen of the Ring” tends to lose its playful spirit and becomes overly serious and somber. The filmmakers believe that Burke’s life is significant enough to be documented, but their all-excellent, no-flaws portrayal of her life fails to make her seem genuine. Despite being a sports drama, the filmmaking doesn’t effectively separate its elements, either stylistically or narratively. Instead of being an engaging movie, “Queen of the Ring” feels more like a compilation of Burke’s notable achievements throughout her illustrious career, rather than a compelling film.

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2025-03-08 05:49