Mickey Rourke gives a beautiful performance in "The Wrestler."

Rourke transcends the physical trappings of his aging pro wrestler character – the leonine, platinum mane, 'roided-up pecs and self-inflicted razor cuts aimed at giving the crowd what it wants – to impart his character's desire to connect, at times even lending Randy "The Ram" Robinson a kind of spiritual grace.

Locked out of his New Jersey trailer for failing to pay rent and hobbled by hangover injuries from his 1980s heyday, the Ram has it bad these days. But he still has a few things going for him, like the self-awareness to recognize he's been selfish much of his life and that he must make up for lost time.

Though he's working with a limited emotional tool set, the Ram reaches out anyway, to the adult daughter (a stony, thoroughly believable Evan Rachel Wood) he never really knew, and to a stripper (Marisa Tomei) who's sweet to him because he pays her and because she thinks he's a nice guy, in that order. Seeking comfort after a traumatic experience, the Ram, for the first time, seems willing to offer something in return.

Rourke brings a ton of bruised baggage to the role, as someone more famous for his eccentricities, for his pocket dogs and ravaged puss, than his acting. But the performance is so accomplished that one need not make the connection from the beat-up guy on screen to the handsome young man of "Diner" and "9 1/2 Weeks" to give it credence. Many viewers will be unable to make that connection, anyway, since Rourke's period out of the spotlight lasted longer than his time in it.

Undiminished from that time, thankfully, are Rourke's gentle quality and his humor. The Ram is not the smartest guy in the room, or even in the low-rent wrestling rings where he performs for a nostalgia crowd. But he's winningly self-effacing and a natural showman, whether in the ring or behind the deli counter of a supermarket, where he joshes with customers while juggling orders.

Rourke subtly but brilliantly lets the past intrude on his character's affable present. The Ram wasn't always a sweetheart, obviously, and we see the guy he was in flashes – in the anger sparked by a too-demanding, possibly unhinged customer, and in the now part-time wrestler's continued need for the adulation of the crowd.

Director Darren Aronofsky ("Requiem for a Dream") and screenwriter Robert Siegel give Rourke a thoughtful yet exceptionally lively cinematic showcase. Aronofsky often trains his camera on the back of Rourke's head, giving us access to the Ram's point of view as he moves through a world that no longer seems to need him.

The wrestling scenes are so authentically brutal that they never appear choreographed. And that's saying something, given that they're essentially choreographed-squared, as professional wrestling scenes staged for movie cameras.

"The Wrestler" also contains one of the finest individual scenes in recent memory. I won't say much more about it, except that it will resonate with anyone who misses those sweet, sweet days of Quiet Riot and IROC Camaros.

Tomei's character, Cassidy, is refreshingly devoid of either a heart of gold or a drug habit. What she has is a young son and a need to pay the bills. Tomei's acting here is natural and also deceptively simple, since she's playing many layers. Cassidy wants to keep the Ram as a customer and therefore must navigate their interactions carefully, neither encouraging nor discouraging him too much.

Tomei's extended show of skin in "The Wrestler," though certainly reflective of her character's occupation, eventually seems indulgent on the part of the filmmakers. One starts to wonder why this highly talented, Oscar-winning actress needs to be topless in more than one scene.

It's the kind of question that usually arises with a 24-year-old rather than a 44-year-old actress. But perhaps in this era of Pilates, great nutrition and skin-care advancements, 40 is the new exploited.