The Iron Claw
The Iron Claw is a punching look at the toxic confines of the American dream and the devastating power of brotherhood.
Sean Durkin’s The Iron Claw tells the true story of a wrestling family the Von Erichs, led by a manipulating patriarch who won’t stop sacrificing his sons until he holds ultimate power. The Von Erich dynasty ruled the wrestling ring in the 80s and 90s until they were ultimately crushed by their controlling father, Fritz. It is apparent how much Sean Durkin cares about the people in this story focusing on empathy over spectacle to tell this gruesome American tragedy. Whether you knew about this story before the film, Durkin approaches it not from a retelling but a real fascination with who these people were and why this is such an affecting story that moves it from Texas folklore to national legend.
In a truly transformative role, Zac Efron plays the second eldest Von Erich, Kevin. Conditioned by his father to be the one to bring glory to the family, Kevin is a hard worker but possesses an innocence and protectiveness over his brothers juxtaposing his muscular build. Efron is phenomenal in portraying the inner conflict of Kevin over the years as he goes from being the one posed for greatness to the child his father knows he will always have control over so he sends him to the back of the lineup. There is such a specific angle Efron takes with this character as he is never fully in the grasp of the Von Erich curse but it is almost like the audience as he is aware of everything happening cautioning himself not to get too close. He plays out the toxic relationship with his father as the reliable son who accepts the mistreatment of himself but seeing it to his brothers paints another layer to the pain. The gut-wrenching feeling of watching him being the last person his brothers speak to before their demise is destroying as he carries that plight throughout the film. He cycles through grief and loss keeping it together until he allows the vulnerability to wash over him that ultimately leads him to survival.
Durkin shapes the story into a Greek tragedy introducing the family values of religion, trophies, and guns just through what is in their house. Fritz sets out to provide for his family while their mother lets Jesus take care of her family. There is a distance to their parenting of their children leaving the brothers to take care of one another suffocated by the generational abuse. This family just so happens to be ingrained in wrestling but Drkin focuses on the universal aspects of power abuse through generations. Fritz is someone who would find how to hurt his children through any means and in this case, it's wrestling. Even when he has all three children making names it is never enough to satisfy. He allows them to perform against one another to an audience of himself. The ambition of Fritz will always cloud his judgment of being a father.
Durkin examines the definition of brotherhood in this family tale that reveals that while on the outside they are a complete family, on the inside all these brothers have are each other. They are never happier than when they are with one another. All different personalities from Kevin and David to Mike, a gangly rocker, and Kerry, the track star. To father Fritz, four sons means four chances at the ultimate wrestling title, for the boys it means four lifelong friends. The way Durkin captures brotherhood reminds me of the American nature of The Outsiders playing with the innocence and brutality of being a brother is a system against you. He highlights those sweet moments of intimacy whether roughhousing or supporting Michael at his big gig, which leaves the repercussions to come even more dark.
To a lot of Texans, they say this is the most authentic portrayal of their home state. Durkin uses small details to bring to life 1980s Texas without overindulging what usually comes to mind when people think of Texas. For an unbelievable story like the Von Erichs, a stripped-down setting is effective in not overdramatizing the true events. Durkin avoids classic trappings of the biopic genre to grant life into his film. There is no stress to make sure every single detail is correct for the period but a focus on the authenticity of the ra and essence of who these people were. He carefully recreates the Sportatorium matches which feel like a transportation back to the 80s in its way. He doesn’t showcase wresting in the sweaty, hypermasculine stereotypes but as a well-choreographed dance between partners. There is a real art to it that can capture the attention of anyone not familiar with the sport and immediately make them invested. We see how the sport is constructed while deconstructing the bodies involved amidst the staged and scripted presentation.
Perfect editing and camerawork help convey this ghost story that continues to haunt its remaining family members as the story goes on. The editing forces you to sit with the tragedy unfolding before you as you sink into your seat to dwell. Almost like the film is taking a breath with us to digest the consequences of actions we wish our characters made a different decision. As you sit you then experience the horror that this is a true story leaving additional room to once again breathe. Chronicling the history of this family is a tedious task, but the pacing is correctly attuned to building tension and continuing on with the story without sacrificing the grim emotion. The fade-out overlays usually cheesy in some movies adds power to the constant foreshadowing at play in the film. Setting up this fear for what to come next and for Kevin his last moments with his brothers are sentimentally placed as a final goodbye hinting at the next demise. There is such nuance in how these more depressing moments are unfolded as the story takes an isolating turn.
Durkin gives the Von Erich family a truly Shakespearean tale full of heart and sorrow reminiscent of the films of the 90s deserving of tears.