![]() Olympia, and afterwards he holds court with his fellow fawning muscle men in an “Arnold is Numero Uno” t-shirt while he smokes a joint and drinks a glass of wine. Schwarzenegger clinches his sixth and final Mr. And we see him standing on stage like someone who was just hit by a Mack truck driven by Niccolo Machiavelli. You can’t help but feel bad for the future Incredible Hulk.įerrigno ends up coming in third. ![]() Moments after telling the camera how he will “mix him up”, Schwarzenegger just begins to clinically and psychologically dismantle Ferrigno’s confidence, teasing him and psyching him out bit by bit like a sadist pulling at Jenga pieces. Because Schwarzenegger has no time for flattery-or mercy. In the scene, the two men have both arrived in Pretoria and are having breakfast together on the morning of the competition. In a scene that isn’t just the best and most telling moment in the film, but also a hint at the sort of ruthless will-to-power persona that would make Schwarzenegger the King of Hollywood in the two decades that followed, he cruelly toys with his biggest threat, Ferrigno, like a cat swatting around a mouse. His third-act victory is more or less inevitable before he even steps into his Speedo and takes the stage in South Africa. He’s a sui generis, media-savvy genius whose gaze is constantly looking forward. He’s unencumbered by modesty, indecision, or doubt. He’s a preening, pec-rippling peacock who’s unabashedly bigger than life. With his frisky smirk and thick-as-strudel, Hans & Franz accent, Schwarzenegger is the embodiment of a new kind of celebrity only the ‘70s could have produced. So can you believe how much I am in heaven? I am getting the feeling of cumming in the gym, I’m getting the feeling of cumming at home, I’m getting the feeling of cumming backstage when I pump up, when I pose in front of 5,000 people…. It’s as satisfying to me as cumming is, you know? Having sex with a woman and cumming. For instance, here he is talking about the allure of working out in the gym: “The most satisfying feeling you can get in a gym is ‘The Pump.’ Blood is rushing into your muscles and that’s what we call ‘The Pump.’ Your muscles get a really tight feeling like your skin is going to explode. Olympia title), but also because every cocksure boast and passive-aggressive put-down that passes through his lips is plated in 24-karat sound-bite gold. Not just because Arnold is the sport’s reigning champion and rock-star posterboy (in the film he’s going for his sixth consecutive Mr. ![]() The filmmakers clearly understand that Schwarzenegger is their film’s main attraction and meal ticket, and they rightly turn him into the centerpiece of their three-ring expose-he’s the strapping straw that stirs the drink. Universe title) there’s Franco Columbu, a pint-sized Sardinian pit bull who’s like the eager, tea-cup sidekick to his bigger, more blustery pal, Arnold and there’s Lou Ferrigno, a naïve, hearing-impaired 24-year-old pussycat and former sheet metal worker from Queens whose coaching from his sweet, retired NYPD cop father is no protection from the psychological gamesmanship that Schwarzenegger is about to zap his way. Before we get there, though, we meet a small roster of statuesque wannabes in training: There’s a junior high school teacher from Connecticut named Mike Katz with a thinning combover and an easily wounded air of innocence there’s Ken Waller, a trash-talking ginger-haired bully who’s only too eager to exploit that innocence (both are vying for the lesser, amateurs-only Mr. Olympia contest being held in Pretoria, South Africa. The film is smartly structured as a walk-up of sorts to the 1975 Mr. And, as this hypnotic, enthralling film shows, it’s also a gladiatorial arena where sometimes physical brawn is less important to winning than manipulative mind games and cut-throat conniving.Įven though Pumping Iron crackles to life whenever the Austrian expat comes on screen, Butler and Fiore’s documentary isn’t just about him. It initiates its unsuspecting audience into a world they most likely knew nothing about before the lights dimmed in the theater-a world of sweat, obsession, narcissism, pain, and ecstasy. In 1977, it finally found that something in an American documentary called Pumping Iron…and it found that someone in a cocky, charismatic Austrian on the cusp of becoming a global superstar named Arnold Schwarzenegger.ĭirected by George Butler and Robert Fiore, Pumping Iron is the best kind of documentary. It was just another fringey demimonde desperate for something (or someone) to help it crossover into the mainstream. ![]() There wasn’t any real glory in the sport. Forty-four years ago, bodybuilding wasn’t much more than just a marginal underground subculture-an obscure freak-show circuit populated by jacked-up guys in Speedos and slathered in baby oil showing off their impossible physiques in front of half-filled VFW halls.
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