I knew absolutely nothing about the Von Erich wrestling family. My wrestling knowledge is basically “my parents watched it so I absorbed it through osmosis.” Like Stone Cold Steve Austin, Triple H, John Cena, Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage — the big names everybody kind of knows even if you weren’t fully paying attention.
Wrestling was always just THERE growing up. Very much like Star Trek in my house. Constantly on the TV, deeply loved by my parents, and somehow part of the family culture whether I understood it or not.
Meanwhile Hector is apparently my mother’s long-lost child because that man loves wrestling and Magic almost as much as she does.
So three years ago when he was like, “We should go watch this movie about a wrestling family,” and I had never heard of them in my life, I was basically like:
“sure babe sounds fake but okay”
My mom was INSISTENT it was going to be good though.
Anyway. We went opening night.
Tell me WHY nobody warned me this movie was going to emotionally hit me with a folding chair.
I was not expecting to leave the theater immediately googling the real family. I was not expecting a wrestling movie to emotionally devastate me. I was ESPECIALLY not expecting to cry that hard.
And because apparently I enjoy suffering, I recently decided rewatching it while pregnant was a fantastic idea.
Turns out pregnancy hormones + The Iron Claw = catastrophic emotional damage.