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THE IRON CLAW

3.5 Stars (out of 4)

Director: Sean Durkin

Cast: Zac Efron, Jeremy Allen White, Harris Dickinson, Stanley Simons, Holt McCallany, Maura Tierney, Lily James, Michael J. Harney

MPAA Rating: R (for language, suicide, some sexuality and drug use)

Running Time: 2:11

Release Date: 12/22/23


The Iron Claw, A24

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 21, 2023

There's a lot of talk of a family curse in The Iron Claw, a dramatization of the tragic true-life story of the Von Erich family. Based on the behavior here, the so-called curse is essentially similar to that famous definition of insanity. These people keep doing the same, dangerous things over and over but expect that, somehow, everything will be fine.

For the most part, it's not their fault, and that's the deeper tragedy of writer/director Sean Durkin's film—one that elevates it beyond biography and the potential for melodrama. Durkin has mostly stuck to the facts of the lives of the Von Erich brothers and their domineering father, who uses his children as a means of achieving the professional glory he felt was wrongly denied to him. Where there are changes to or omissions from the real story, apparently, must be so that the filmmaker isn't falsely accused of making matters too obvious or wallowing in a series of terrible consequences for everyone involved.

In reality, the tale of the Von Erichs might be even more awful than what's presented in this film, and that's saying something. Durkin, for example, removes one brother entirely from his dramatization, while dispersing elements of that absent figure to the four who are present here. Once the tragedies begin—and never cease until the very end—in this story, it becomes understandable why Durkin's screenplay has condensed the family lineage. To include that fifth brother could be so overwhelming that it might be almost too difficult to believe that one family could suffer so much in such a short period of time. Imagine, then, what reality must have been for the real people.

We don't have to imagine too much, because this film puts us right into the middle of this disturbing family dynamic, which has only one source of all its misery. He's Jack Von Erich (Holt McCallany), who's introduced as a professional wrestler in Texas at what could be the turning point of his career.

Certain of his forthcoming success and convinced that he'll have to fake it until he makes it, Jack has surprised his wife Doris (Maura Tierney) and two kids (A sixth, eldest son has died before the story even starts) with a new car. This doesn't make any sense, the wife argues, but Jack has a way of talking or forcing his point, which the older son witnesses in the backseat—looking on as if his father's authority is seeping into the boy's essence by way of some osmosis. Durkin uses close-ups here in a way that the psychological blows hit even harder than the long shots of the action in the wrestling ring.

The bulk of the story, though, is set from the 1970s through the early '90s and focuses on Kevin Von Erich (Zac Efron), the de facto eldest brother to David (Harris Dickinson), Kerry (Jeremy Allen White), and Mike (Stanley Simons). The analysis of Kevin's future wife Pam (Lily James) is that he suffers from "oldest brother syndrome," because he's determined to protect his younger siblings and, despite his rising success in the wrestling ring, only wants the four of them to live happily together one day.

Just as telling as that admission of his deepest wish is the way Kevin reacts when Pam hugs him. He just sits there, dumbstruck, as if no one has ever shown him a basic level of compassion and affection. That's probably the case. Efron's physical transformation for the role, bulking up to beyond-superhero levels of muscle, is impressive, but there's a quiet, haunted, and broken quality emanating from every moment of this character that's even more so.

The story mostly revolves around wrestling, because it's the only thing about which Jack cares—and, hence, the only thing his sons do or come to care about, too. That's the quality of this man, whose bitterness about his own missed opportunities—or failures, although he'd never admit to that term—has turned him into cold but cruel taskmaster (One detail Durkin doesn't reveal about Jack is that the real man's wrestling persona was a Nazi, and it's probably wise, because we'd think that's a little too blunt to be real—even though it was).

McCallany is frightening in the role, as Jack commands authority without raising a hand, his body, or even his voice. He is in control of his family, knows it, and just requires a silent look to cease even a hint of questioning about his decisions.

The son's rarely, if ever, question him, anyway, because his wishes and commands are the only things they have known in their isolated lives on a remote Texas ranch. At the start of the story proper, Kevin is, according to his father, Jack's second-favorite son, because of his potential in the ring, and Kerry is his favorite, because he's bound for the Olympics as a discus thrower.

Yes, the sons have to compete for the father's "love," with the rankings adjusting as Kevin falls out of favor in wrestling, David becomes a contender for the world title belt, and Kerry's quashed Olympics dream puts him in Jack's preferred sport. Poor Mike just wants to play music in a band with his friends, and the other brothers try their best to make those dreams possible. They know too well that Jack doesn't care and that Doris won't say anything to her husband about his harshly dismissive attitude toward his youngest son.

The sons keep wrestling. They continue to punish their bodies and repress any anger, resentment, feelings of failure, and certainty of disappointing their father by assorted means. One denies that his sports-related injuries are anything to worry about, despite vomiting blood at Kevin's wedding reception. Another drinks regularly, slowly overcomes a devastating consequence of that, and still can't escape the mental grip his father has on him. Even poor Mike finds himself in the ring, if only briefly. Durkin's use of close-ups also provides a sense of how alone these characters are, despite the brothers all sharing that same feeling.

Over and over, the same things keep happening in The Iron Claw, just in the way Kevin repeatedly slams his body into the mat while preparing for a comeback. It's not insanity. It's not a curse. This is simply but potently a case of four boys in adult bodies who just want their father to love them, and it's heartbreaking at every turn.

Copyright © 2023 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved.

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