Where The Ram’s story is about an addiction to life in the spotlight, Paul Aufiero’s is about a working class brand of loyalty that looks an awful lot like religion, and all the contradictions that entails.

Robert Siegel made a name for himself by writing last year’s low-budget powerhouse, The Wrestler. Helped by Darren Aronofsky’s skillful direction and an outstanding performance by Mickey Rourke, that film movingly portrayed how someone might continue to love something even as it slowly destroys him. For washed-up wrestler Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson, the high of performing is akin to a drug. Despite the pain, the scars, and the shitty pay, we can almost see why he does it; it’s the only thing he truly loves, has ever been good at, and which makes him feel like he’s worth a damn. His passion for wrestling may have turned him into “a broken down piece of meat”, but it’s also what’s sustained him for this long, and he’d rather burn out in the spotlight than fade away in the shadows.

Though the story of a crumbling sports star is both heartbreaking and powerful, it’s not something everyday sports fans can relate to on a personal level. Same for fans of film, music, competitive Donkey Kong playing, or anything else. Stories like The Wrestler fascinate us precisely because most of us will never feel the high of performing for a roaring crowd. We’ll never know what it’s like to be adored for our talent. Most of us are at the other end of the equation, among the throngs that pledge that love to our favorite entertainers.

By focusing on the outsiders’ perspective, Big Fan is like the flip side to The Wrestler: a story of what it means to unconditionally love something bigger than ourselves. Where The Ram’s story is about an addiction to life in the spotlight, Paul Aufiero’s is about a working class brand of loyalty that looks an awful lot like religion, and all the contradictions that entails.

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Paul lives a mostly empty life: a dead-end parking attendant job, coming home every night to the same old room in his mother’s house, walls still covered with football posters. But he’s fine with it all, as long as he has a higher power to believe in — namely, the New York Giants. Game day is his Sabbath, and calling in to the local sports-talk radio station is his form of daily prayer. As his only creative outlet, it gives him a sense of purpose; preaching to a choir of other fans is his primary way of connecting to a wider world, and serves to validate his fervor.

Patton Oswalt plays the character perfectly, mixing the lovability he’s known for with a lonely desperation that’s surprising. His character is sort of funny but far from a charmer. He’s sort of smart, penning involved diatribes for his nightly call-in rants, but not competent enough to go anywhere in his daily life. Overall, he’s a nice guy even if he’s a bit on the pathetic side. Like watching Mickey Rourke deteriorate in The Wrestler, we like and root for Paul even as we question his choices. Then when Paul finally finds himself in a chance encounter with his favorite player, Quantrell Bishop, things go terribly wrong. Suddenly he finds himself in a crisis of faith, everyone he knows telling him to renounce his loyalties and take the selfish way out. But as a devout fan, he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s Job in a blue-and-white jersey.

If there’s one major fault with the movie, it’s that it never really explores why Paul’s dedication to his favorite sports team is so unshakable. But in some ways that’s what makes Big Fan a darker, sadder, more real film than The Wrestler’s christ-like climax. With fandom, as with any religion, it’s difficult to see exactly what’s in it for the true believers. They stick with their faiths through triumph and tragedy because it’s all they know and all they have, even when there seem to be no concrete rewards.

Not to say it’s an entirely serious film. Siegel finds plenty of humor by depicting Paul’s world with brutal honesty and an eye for detail — from his equally devout but even dimmer buddy Sal, to his nagging mother and arrogant big brother (complete with overly-bronzed trophy wife). Though he may not win awards for style as a director, he does show promise behind the camera. The presentation isn’t as artistic as Aronofsky’s, but has an almost documentary bluntness which pulls us into Paul’s situation and all its comic bleakness.

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More than anything, this film works for its originality. With annual sports movies ‘based on the inspirational true story of a [team, athlete, ballet dancer, racecar driver, you name it] who defied the odds’, an examination of the other side of sports mania is a brave choice. Even those of us who don’t follow sports could easily substitute our own obsessions, and take a long look at exactly where our passion for folk rock, Marvel comics, scrap-booking, or even, ironically, indie films, is getting us. Paul Aufiero is willing to sacrifice himself on the altar of a manufactured allegiance, the same way some are willing to fast, proselytize, or even die on behalf of theirs, but we see him as a sad figure, not a martyr. We can envy him for his dedication, or we can pity him for his misguidedness. Either way, we have to face the fact that maybe there’s a bit of a Big Fan in all of us.

A few footnotes:

Check out the official Big Fan site to see a trailer and find out when and where Big Fan is playing near you. It’s open now in New York and Philly, and rolling out to more cities throughout September.

Jesse Thorn at the excellent Sound of Young America podcast had a fun and fascinating interview with director Robert Siegel that’s worth checking out as well.