Stream It Or Skip It: ‘You Cannot Kill David Arquette’ on Hulu, a Doc About a Has-Been Star Seeking Redemption Via Pro Wrestling

One’s enjoyment of the documentary You Cannot Kill David Arquette — now streaming on Hulu — may hinge on one’s appreciation of pro wrestling. And appreciation of David Arquette of course, the squirrelly comedy star and minor 1990s icon who once took home a WCW championship belt as a publicity stunt, and was hated for it. Hated, as in actual real-life hate, not just fake pro-wrestling hate. This doc digs into the aftermath of that ridiculous occurrence, ridiculous even for pro wrestling; it chronicles how Arquette, a longtime wrestling fan, attempts to restore his credibility within the sport and simultaneously fulfill a lifelong dream by training to be a real fake pro wrestler. Sounds like at least reasonably compelling doc fodder, no?

YOU CANNOT KILL DAVID ARQUETTE: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: A pro wrestler yell-growls out of his ‘roid-choked throat how he wants to MURDER David Arquette. MURDER him. Rewind to 2000, when Arquette, promoting his wrestling comedy movie Ready to Rumble, made a few appearances on WCW’s Monday Nitro. A title card reads, “It was determined” that Arquette would wrestle and win the championship belt, which ended up being a terrible decision by WCW honchos; it’s also been determined that was one of the worst moments in pro wrestling history. For years, fans downright loathed Arquette for agreeing to participate in a fake storyline fake fighting for a fake belt when some other guy in a fake storyline fake fighting for a fake belt obviously deserved the fake accolades more.

You see, Arquette was never a real fake wrestler, and in order to understand what that means, one must acquiesce that not just anyone can be one. This “theatrical sport” is indeed acted out by athletes participating in difficult, sometimes quite brutal physical maneuvers; it requires training, and you’ve gotta pay your dues. Arquette had done none of that, but won a belt anyway, breaking an “unwritten rule” of this goofy-ass subcultural entertainment corporeality. And now, 20 years later, at age 46, he regrets it terribly. He’s always been a wrestling aficionado, and it hurts his soul to be a cockroach in the kitchen of the sports-adjacent entertainment thing he loves so much. Since then, he’s struggled personally and professionally, saying directors shunned him for movie roles. At about that time, his high-profile marriage to Courteney Cox fell apart. Correlation or causation? Hard to tell, but it’s plausible.

Nowadays, Arquette seems to be doing OK. He’s remarried with three kids, has a terrific family life. His wife, former Entertainment Tonight correspondent Christina McLarty, says he’s the fourth kid in the house. He’s a recovering alcoholic, had a heart attack not too long ago, has a moderately flabby dadbod and openly admits he’s been going to auditions for 10 years and failing every time (his IMDb page somewhat confirms this, listing a bunch of stuff from the past decade that few of us know exists). Something has to change. So why not try to be a pro wrestler? What has he got to lose? He gets into shape (offscreen), participates in a backyard wrestling match, goes to Cancun to train with Diamond Dallas Page, learns moves from Mexican luchadors, is hospitalized after his neck is lacerated during a hardcore deathmatch, etc. Is he happy now?

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: You Cannot Kill David Arquette is a combination of The Wrestler — no, scratch that, it’s more like Nacho Libre crossed with an annoying vanity mock-doc like I’m Still Here.

Performance Worth Watching: David Arquette sure seems fully committed to being David Arquette, and such adherence to character — in real life or in movies or in whatever nebulous zone between them this movie falls into — is admirable. (Meanwhile, feel free to enjoy the bits of commentary given by his sisters Rosanna and Patricia, as well as, perhaps surprisingly, Cox, although it doesn’t quite add up to much in the way of insight.)

Memorable Dialogue: Arquette sums up his personality in a few words: “I’m a carnie at heart.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Arquette is a likable guy, a high-energy eccentric who runs up to the line of obnoxiousness and stops a millimeter or two before crossing it. He has a lovely family, a lovely house, a career that maybe never reached its true potential but was apparently financially lucrative anyway — but none of this has any bearing on human suffering. The guy seems fairly torn up about the WCW thing, and he wants not just a little restitution, but to use his status as a public figure and affable kook to take a stab at a dream. One shall we say interesting scene puts him in a neurologist’s office for a brain scan, and the doctor says his cerebral physiology is highly unusual. He’s a reasonably endearing subject for a documentary; who doesn’t like a worthy redemption story?

Thing is, like pro wrestling itself, You Cannot Kill David Arquette blurs reality and staged drama to the point where we can’t tell what’s true and what isn’t. Significant chunks of the film smell of bullshit. I subscribe to Werner Herzog’s pursuit of the “ecstatic truth,” that to observe but not manipulate reality doesn’t fully capture the truth of existence, but to apply that to a goofball’s quest to become a pro wrestler is a hippo-in-a-speedo stretch. And because of the documentary’s fudgy nature, it may only appeal to those who appreciate the art of kayfabe. You know, kayfabe — the term applied to pro wrestling’s insistence that all its violence, rivalries and whatnot are real when they’re not. I call it the Big Ask, that we suspend our disbelief so high up there where the oxygen gets alarmingly thin.

That’s a long way of saying that the appeal of pro wrestling is lost on me, and so it goes with this movie. It functions somewhat as a guided tour to the wrestling subculture — the showmanship of backyard wrestlers, hooting and slamming for an audience of their pals and no one else is, well, something else — through Arquette’s point of view. Rooting for his general happiness seems like an empathetic thing to do. But as the film continues, it becomes a smeary mess. Arquette is revealed to be an untrustworthy narrator; he allows himself to be pummeled in the ring as if it’s some weird self-punishment for his past bad decisions; when he finally wrestles in “legit” matches, he hams it up as a villain-type character. I cringed through the entire final third. Unless you pledge allegiance to the sport’s unspoken rules, the film never really works as profile or provocation.

Our Call: SKIP IT. You Cannot Kill David Arquette might be for pro wrestling devotees only. Unless they have no interest in ever forgiving Arquette for sullying the reputation of their favorite pastime. I can’t speak for them in the least.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Watch You Cannot Kill David Arquette on Hulu