Queen of the Ring

Director: Ash Avildsen
Starring: Emily Bett Rickards, Josh Lucas, Tyler Posey, Walton Goggins, Francesca Eastwood, Marie Avgeropoulos, Deborah Ann Woll, Cara Buono, Kailey Farmer, Gavin Casalegno, Adam Demos, Kelli Berglund, Damaris Lewis, Martin Kove, James E. Cornette, Toni Rossall, Trinity Fatu, Mickie James Britt Baker
Running Time: 140 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

On one hand a very traditional biopic, Queen of the Ring offers something different by telling a story many remain unfamiliar with, wrestling fan or not. Avoiding comparisons to The Iron Claw, it also comes unencumbered with the impending sense of dread and doom unique to that tragedy. With more viewers aware of the Von Erichs, the film had to overcome an avalanche of expectations, as photos, footage, documentaries and first hand accounts all helped fuel wild speculation about what we'd see. So while this isn't nearly as anticipated, writer/director Ash Avildsen reaps the benefits of flying under the radar to explore an unexamined corner of pro wrestling history.  

Told in a straightforward, no-frills style, it's a classic underdog tale that features a dynamic lead performance, some nicely fleshed out mini-arcs for the supporting players and impressive era specific production design. At nearly two and a half hours, it's also lengthy, with the action hitting a slight lull in the middle before regaining momentum the rest of the way through. But the big surprise is the dark places it goes toward the end, laying the groundwork for a myriad of problems that would plague the wrestling industry for decades to come. 

It's the 1930's and Mildred Burke (Emily Bett Rickards) is a single teen mom working at her mother's (Cara Buono) Kansas diner when she discovers and falls in love with wrestling after watching matches at the local arena. After pestering grappler Billy Wolfe (Josh Lucas) to train her, he relents, assuming she won't amount to much, at least until seeing her extraordinary potential between the ropes. Strong, athletic and eager to learn, Mildred works carnival matches, eventually marrying Billy as the two attempt to get bans lifted on women's wrestling across various territories in the U.S. 

Mildred's big break eventually comes from forward looking Mid-Atlantic impresario Jack Pfefer (Walton Goggins). A forefather of "sports entertainment," the eccentric promoter envisions a new theatrical era on the horizon, with her as its centerpiece. But Billy sees his meal ticket, soon building a stable of women's wrestlers as he cheats on and physically abuses Mildred, much to his son G. Bill's (Tyler Posey) quiet disgust. Yearning to break from Billy and show naysayers what she's truly capable of, her journey culminates in a pivotal but controversial world title clash with longtime nemesis June Byers (Kailey Farmer).

Partially inspired by Jeff Leen's 2010 book, this covers a relatively underrepresented time in wrestling that spans from the 30's to the mid 50's during which the sport was in a transitional stage, straddling the line between "work" and "shoot," with even wrestlers occasionally confused as to how much will be scripted. While promoters choose winners based largely on each wrestler's ability to draw money, they can't publicly acknowledge it's predetermined, even as discreet arguments about match outcomes continue behind closed doors in smoke filled arenas.

Enter Mildred Burke, who knows she physically has what it takes to be the best, along with the dedication and contagious optimism to make it happen. But with women's wrestling banned and the National Wrestling Alliance (NWA) maintaining its stranglehold on the business, aging heel wrestler Billy Wolfe sees universal appeal and dollar signs in helping her break through. And Rickards is perfect as the plucky heroin who may be naive to the industry's inner workings at first, but picks things up fast, refusing to settle for being Billy's cash cow. 

Like most of the cast, Rickards benefits from the anonymity of playing characters most modern audiences are unaware of, either in appearance or personality. This enables the actress to build an amiable, girl-next-door persona from the ground up, carving her own niche as Mildred while also looking credible in the ring. And it's not just the wrestling scenes that look good, but the rest of the film, which captures the period with distinctive wardrobe and sets that belie its lower budget.

Lucas gruffly portrays Wolfe as this amalgamation of various sleazebag promoters and ex-wrestlers, initially making a fairly likable impression before revealing his true colors. A textbook abuser, he turns on the charm and manipulation when needed, not just with Mildred but whomever he envisions as the next headliner, both in the ring and his bed.

More a business partnership than marriage, Mildred keeps Billy close enough to protect her earnings, but not so close as to continuously suffer his abuse. But that doesn't work, especially during a time when even the scuzziest promoters are protected and hold all the cards. The more sides she sees of her husband, the worse he gets, as Lucas dives into his character's two-faced persona with gusto, revealing himself as more crooked outside the squared circle than in it. 

There are appearances from a few current wrestlers like Toni Storm as Clara Mortensen, but it's Kailey Farmer (AKA Kamille from AEW) as the imposing June Byers whose presence and badass demeanor looms largest. We also get a cameo from legendary manager Jim Cornette as the NWA commissioner refusing to give the women a shot. And while him sharing the screen with The Karate Kid and Cobra Kai's Martin Kove (as promoter Al Haft) definitely wasn't on anyone's 2025 movie bingo card, it's still great to see.  

More than a few supporting performances stand out, such as Francesca Eastwood's turn as feisty grappler Mae Young, bringing needed dimension to a woman still only known to many as the octogenarian who gave birth to a hand on WWE TV. Adam Demos also impresses as George, a struggling wrestler on the cusp of discovering his new "gorgeous" and famously flamboyant persona while Tyler Posey conveys conflicted feelings as Billy's son, working around his dad to help Mildred. 

Mildred's thrillingly contested 1954 championship match with Byers may blur the lines of entertainment and reality, but her real opponent is Billy and the other promoters who followed in his footsteps. With them ensuring that her designation as the "first million-dollar female athlete" is mostly forgotten, it'll take until the mid 2010's for women's wrestling to get its proper due, only recently rivaling the men in popularity. Vince McMahon Jr. isn't portrayed in the film, but briefly mentioned in a clever context by his father, Vince Sr. That seems fitting considering how this film's greedy promoter previews what the younger McMahon later does, only on a much larger scale.  

Entertaining and smartly written, Queen of the Ring is the type of project that could have packed theaters in an earlier moviegoing era, if not for wrestling's public perception at the time. But if an aspirational sports biopic made by the son of the director of Rocky and The Karate Kid now feels more karmically appropriate, harsher truths about those calling the shots still seep through. This is really about the ultimate babyface clearing a path by showing how "lady wrestlers" could draw big crowds. Doing that may have been hard, but proving it to these old school promoters was even harder.