In a time when pro wrestling for women was illegal all over the country, a small town single mother embraces the danger to change culture as she dominates America's most masculine sport to become t...
Fans of wrestling have to be keenly familiar with some pioneers of women’s wrestling: Mae Young, Wendi Richter, Madusa, Molly Holly, Lita, Trish Stratus, Chyna, Mickie James, June Byers, Gail Kim, Bull Nakano and, begrudgingly, the Fabulous Moolah. But Mildred Burke is one such name that shouldn’t be lost to history.
“Queen of the Ring” isn’t the preferred example to show as to why that is. I wouldn’t put it past anyone watching this as a newbie to wrestling but you can do better.
As per the blueprints of your typical biography, we’re given a giant montage of all the important highlights of Burke’s career and I mean that quite literally. While a nice change of pace for anyone not familiar with her story, it’s not long before the narrative’s by-the-book spiel takes center stage and grinds the meat down to processed “goods”; I’m really not trying to be mean here but it’s fairly obvious just how many corners had to be cut to compensate for the runtime. Episodic in nature and choppy in coherence, both halves of the narrative struggle between juggling all its characters and acting like the young crossing guard from Mid-Life Crustacean holding your hand, straining to pay off or follow up whatever developments happen while seemingly talking down to the audience in a bid to explain the industry to them.
Thankfully, the straightforward writing shouldn’t entirely be taken as a downgrade; as constantly pestering as those factors are, it still gets away with being a mostly entertaining fable of resistance and opposition while incorporating the typical underdog tropes. It blazes the well-worn path and doesn’t do anything too egregious to break from the formula but to offset that, while nowhere equally as depressing as The Wrestler or The Iron Claw, this still follows the trend of wrestling stories having an appropriately sickening edge to it, shining another spotlight on domestic abuse, the predatory nature of promoters within the business and the shady politics pyramid scheme that come with it. The significance of breaking down barriers is alluded to but doesn’t have much significance as it should’ve.
You’d think the son of the director who directed ROCKY would pick up on his father’s penchant for believable underdog theatrics and for the sake of being charitable, Ash Avildsen’s direction does ground us in sentiment. But Ash also has to deal with a type of sports industry that defies most people’s perceptions of sports to begin with; he might be in his element but with hardly any flair, finesse or gaudy kitschiness that the sport is known for.
Low-budget aside, Molly Coffee’s vintage settings pass for looking the part as customary stylings of a period piece…..with the exception of ONE exterior shot I noticed nakedly done with A.I (no, seriously). Obviously none of this accurately depicts what the mid-20th century became, and the lack of emphasis on the socio-economic history of that era does sour all the work spent constructing the sets but the heightened reality made to reflect the themes and issues of the time, even if the quality screams made-for-television, is somewhat easy on the eyes.
Not much about Andrew Strahorn’s cinematography stands out but the plus is there’s not much to pick apart on that front either; it’s purely functional with a dramatized lens. I can overlook the sephia-toned color grading (so many films use that nowadays) and the overlighting to the shots but the editing got on my nerves pretty quickly. If it wasn’t moving too quickly, it was always ending on a rather cheap fade to black, causing even more leisurely pacing issues than necessary. That very presentation only mars everything else it touches, giving it a hagiographic undertone that just does not mesh. I won’t say they overcompensated with the musical score but Aaron Gilhuis’s efforts are overly solemn and self-serious. Costuming, makeup and hairstyling though is nothing short of stellar, tone is mostly consistent and I love me some good ol’ fashioned wrestling. Nothing flashy or sophisticated as the scripted nature of early professional wrestling prevents the matches from looking too exciting but every choreographed sequence tells their own kind of story.
And let’s be real: anybody willing to get in the ring to take a bump gets mad props from me.
Mastering elegance, resilience and enthusiasm in a role that requires such a performer to leave everything on the table, Emily Bett Rickards is the star attraction here. Playing against type is one thing but she is resolute and infectious in her transformation. The rest of the cast hold up well alongside her but she’s the clear favorite. If only the dialogue had been fine-tuned to not be so instructive and their characters given more layers to them…..given what some of us already know about them.
Trailblazing pioneers will come and go and make history regardless of perception but the fact that a legend like Mildred Burke isn’t given a movie that matches her credentials is its own brand of maddening. With muddled storytelling and wonky technical elements, director Ash Avildsen doesn’t quite have the same flair for the dramatic as his father.
