The Iron Claw – A Devastating Piece of Pro-Wrestling History (Early Review)

Whenever the horrors of someone’s life are given the big screen treatment, there’s an underlying fear that the apparent desire to find the “truth” in tragedy is disguising a hidden agenda of exploitation for easy tears. The Von Erich family, famous in the world of pro-wrestling—if barely anywhere else—presents a textbook case of this very fear, as the supposed “Von Erich curse” that befell this troupe becomes a prime blueprint for a story that risks undercutting the humanity of its players in favour of making them simple goobers walking into the face of calamity. The Iron Claw makes it very clear that the Von Erich brothers are simple, but that’s exactly where the heart of their brotherhood can be found ferociously beating.

Fritz Von Erich (Holt McCallany) spent his pro-wrestling career as little more than a glorified piece of ringside set dressing without a real shot at the NWA championship title. His drive to grind his way to the top, though, never wavered, as it set into his parenting style with a neglectful, one-track mind with the mission of passing that dream onto his many sons. Kevin (Efron), the oldest, faces the brunt of his father’s unmoving goal, as his crusade to take that shiny gold belt into the Von Erich household becomes his sole purpose as well; that purpose becomes muddied as Fritz begins to shift his gaze towards Kevin’s equally driven brothers, Kerry (White) David (Dickinson) and the least inclined to join the family business, Mike (Stanley Simons). Through the trials and tribulations that befall this family, the Von Erich bonds are stretched to their limits as Kevin and his younger siblings are left to wonder what all the blood, sweat and (lack of) tears truly mean to them.

Sean Durkin’s take on the Von Erichs has him play the drama straight, letting the real tragedy that comes from these fraying relationships anchor The Iron Claw in a sense of uncomplicated passion. To say that these boys are driven towards the goal that their father has drilled into their blonde heads since infancy is a gross understatement, as every career move that Fritz imposes at the expense of one son is met with a stern “Yes, sir!” from them all. Durkin smartly sees that there’s a clear power in just letting these boys be themselves, with his naked examination of their devotion to the sport and to each other coming through in Mátyás Erdély’s warm cinematography and Matthew Hannam’s punchy editing, both stunning in their muted quality.

None of this would have any thrust if the Von Erich brothers themselves didn’t give off that fraternal energy in every second of their shared screen time, and it’s here where The Iron Claw draws the most emotion from its ensemble. Efron is clearly the lead here, carrying the pressure of this family’s us-against-the-world motto squarely on his massively shredded shoulders, letting the burden of this lifestyle shine through a pair of vulnerable eyes that have been told since Day 1 that tears must never flow. White, Dickinson and Simons, while clearly supporting players, make the most of their beefy bit parts to express how any one of these brothers can only feel whole when the rest are standing by his side, making the tragedy of the film’s second half all the more devastating. Even when Durkin struggles to balance the weight of these brothers’ roles in the greater narrative—would you be surprised to learn there was a fifth Von Erich brother completely removed from this story? —the actors never put any doubt into our minds that these men are brothers, connected by more than just muscle-mass.

Fans of Durkin’s previous films might find him an odd choice to tackle a story that lends itself so naturally to melodrama—The Nest was a highlight in the dark days of 2020 specifically because of his isolated view of the characters—but The Iron Claw proves to be a perfect compromise, allowing the distance of his style to mesh with his respect for the material in a worthy exploration of the Von Erich family. It’s exactly this compromise that makes the film so powerful in its view of a family who was left no room for compromise in their own lives, and the film’s occasional stumbles to keep the vastness of this tragic saga streamlined in Durkin’s script are matched by a rock-solid dedication to keeping the spirit of this dynasty alive.

In the end, The Iron Claw is liable to reach out into one’s own chest and pull their heart out, caressing it with a tenderness so rarely afforded to these brothers, except by each other.

still courtesy of Elevation Pictures

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Julian Malandruccolo

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