'Wrestle': A Striking Examination Of Race, Poverty & High School Sports In Alabama [Review]

There aren’t many ways out of poverty. The socioeconomic constraints that pin families in place don’t often let up from one generation to the next. This, though, is the antithesis to the American Dream of upward mobility. And while we are gradually coming to terms with this reality—that circumstances at home and in the community and in society will prevent a great many from achieving even relief from grinding poverty—we continue to buy into higher education as an escape, a sort of rocket ship loaded with the possibility to launch people into the middle class. This fanciful belief belies that fact that college itself is untenable for so many for myriad reasons, from its unreasonable cost to the time it demands. One loophole, for a select few gifted students, is sports. Following in the footsteps of “Hoop Dreams” and “Undefeated,” “Wrestle” captures the hardships and hopes of four young men in Alabama as they fight for the scholarships that could change their lives.

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Directed by Suzannah Herbert, alongside co-director Lauren Belfer, “Wrestle” is the story of one season at Huntsville’s failing J.O. Johnson High School during which four wrestlers, Jailen, Jamario, Teague, and Jaquan, compete for their spot at the state championships and for the future that comes with that glory. And while the kids’ courageous fight faces long enough odds as is, they, alongside their coach Chris Scribner, are also wrestling with race, mental health, drugs, poverty, and unstable homes. The point that “Wrestle” inevitably makes is that these kids and this story are not unusual. Certainly, they have talent as wrestlers, but the circumstances they are all fighting against are not unique.

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The kids themselves are what propels “Wrestle.” Jailen, Jamario, Teague, and Jaquan are captured as rich and textured young men. They are by turns intelligent, hopeful, childish, witty, despondent, and successful. But while they are all competitors to go to state, their lives outside of school—from unplanned pregnancies to drug arrests—drain them of motivation. Which is where Scribner comes in. A recovering addict, Scribner is hellbent on driving these young men to realize the potential he sees in them. This, though, requires him to come to terms with complex societal issues that he, a white man from New York, has never dealt with. This education, and the rage that it ignites in him, is one of “Wrestle'”s” most compelling and moving threads.

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It is also one of the thematic problems that “Wrestle” skirts up against—Scribner could be read as the White Savior. There are times when the film leans heavily on him and the work he is doing for his wrestlers (Teague is also white). But while the film never addresses it directly, Scribner’s earnest compassion as a mentor and his heart-on-sleeve coaching style help to alleviate the tension, as does the affectionate heckling of his wrestlers. In one memorable scene, the boys laughingly point out that Scribner seems to think he fills unlimited roles, from an uncle to a social worker. Another such issue is that of the college athletic scholarship, a gift that offers only a select (although certainly deserving) few a chance to attain upward mobility. “Wrestle,” however, does not examine the larger issue that such scholarships are often viewed as exploitative of the talents of black men and women.

Still, “Wrestle” is a moving and haunting portrait of four young men fighting to win a golden ticket. The intimacy that Herbert attains with the kids and the respect that she affords them prevents the film from ever seeming exploitative of their lives and hardships and rather gives it a thorough sense of empathy. These kids are never case studies. And while it is hard to prevent them from standing in as representative of the larger issues of race and class in America and in education, Herbert and Belfer are as interested in them as people, as athletes worth paying attention to, and as young men worth respecting. [A-]