What a time we’re in to be fans of both professional wrestling and movies. As sports entertainment has reached a peak in popularity, we’re also seeing the best movies being made about its rich lore, historic superstars, and even its curses. Last year’s tremendous, tragic Von Erich drama The Iron Claw was a creative high for sure, but following closely behind it is Ash Avildsen’s body slammin’ biopic Queen of the Ring. Unlike the Von Erichs who are a well-known wrestling institution, this film is about someone who deserves to be more well-known: Mildred Burke. One of the greatest the sport has ever known, Burke was the first million-dollar female wrestler and a multi-time world champion throughout the 1930s and 1950s, a time when female wrestling was banned throughout much of the country. This trailblazer deserves to have her story told and told well, and Queen of the Ring does Burke’s story justice.
If you only know Emily Bett Rickards as awkward genius Felicity Smoak from Arrow, then Queen of the Ring will make you look at her in a different way. Bulked up and brunette, Rickards delivers a powerful, gritty performance as Burke, a small-town single mother who longs to leave her hard-scrabble life working at a Kansas diner. She wants to entertain, but since she can’t sing or dance…well, there’s always professional wrestling. That’s when she meets the slick promoter Billy Wolfe, played by a wolfish Josh Lucas. Billy’s own wrestling career is on the downward swing, but as a promoter he’s something of a carnival barker. When Burke begs him to train her to be a wrestler, he outright refuses. But he’s slowly won over by the feisty, muscled Burke, and when she defeats a male opponent in a training session he becomes a believer.
Loosely based on Jeff Leen’s biography, Queen of the Ring boils down each figure to their core essence in the best way possible. Burke is tough, spunky, assured, and always looking for someone to love her the right way. That’s a dangerous combination around someone like Wolfe, a well-known opportunist and womanizer who never met a woman grappler he didn’t try (and often succeeded) to sleep with. He quickly becomes more than Burke’s promoter, trainer, and business partner. But the relationship is doomed almost from the start as he starts messing around with other woman under his employ. Meanwhile, Burke is climbing the ranks in the ring, literally fighting to carve her place in a male-dominated sport by fighting other men, until the lucrative prospect of hot girl-on-girl wrestling action proves too tempting for the shady politicians and keep barred.
Queen of the Ring is a dream for wrestling historians and casual fans alike, as Burke crossed paths with other legends of the ring, including the great Gorgeous George (Adam Demos), a friend who she helps inspire to greatness. The cast is top-to-bottom with current wrestling superstars as Hall of Famers, such as WWE’s Trinity “Naomi” Fatu as Ethel Johnson, Toni Storm as Clare Mortensen, and Kamille as June Byers. You also get the likes of the controversial Jim Cornette as NWA Commissioner Sam Muchnick, and Cobra Kai‘s Martin Kove as prominent promoter Al Haft. Walton Goggins as groundbreaking rival promoter Jack Pfefer, an early sports entertainment pioneer who introduced theatricality to wrestling, lights up each scene that he’s in.
In fact, there are so many characters that it sometimes feels that Burke is a passenger in her own story. Billy’s stable continues to grow with more women, including the hard-drinking Mae Young, played by a charismatic Francesca Eastwood, and naive upstart Gladys Gillem played by Daredevil: Born Again‘s Deborah Ann Woll. While the women always have to grapple with sexism and the sheer brutality of the business (wrestling matches were scripted back then, but wildly unsafe), others had to deal with regular bouts of racism. A significant chunk of the final act focuses on a trio of Black wrestlers, including Fatu’s Johnson, Damaris Lewis as Babs Wingo, and Cameren Jackson as Marva Scott. It’s Wingo, in the middle of a fateful match against Burke, who delivers an impassioned statement about overcoming what the world keeps throwing at her, just at at a time when Burke (and the rowdy crowd) need to hear it most. A bit schmaltzy, but a heartfelt highlight nonetheless. Some of the romantic entanglements, and there are many, don’t have a lot of steam. They seem to come and go, usually triggered by Wolfe’s wandering heart, and are a distraction from what’s most enjoyable and that is Burke’s refusal to be defeated, either in the ring or out of it.
Avildsen does a lot with relatively little, compared to other recent wrestling movies. Queen of the Ring looks fantastic, capturing the mood and the look the period. Times were hard back then and wrestling fans liked to see themselves in their wrestling heroes, and Burke was their fighting champion. The in-ring action is intense and appropriately rugged, looking more like real scraps than the the Olympic-level athleticism of today. You can see the influence of trainer Doug Basham on Rickards, who bumps and slams like a pro, holding her own against her more experienced co-stars. As any wrestler will tell you, you have to build up a thick skin to endure the physical toll that being a professional wrestler requires. Fortunately, Rickards has the toughness and the heart of a champion that is all Queen of the Ring needs to be one of the best wrestling movies yet.
Queen of the Ring opens in theaters on March 7th.
