Obsession is a tricky thing. On the one hand it costs you everything, on the other hand, it gives you everything. At least, that’s how it appears once you’ve seen it through the prism of Sue Chuter’s life. Her devotion to wrestling cost her a marriage and a daughter, not to mention the money spent on trips and tickets and memorabilia. But she’s surrounded by friends equally devoted, and a great many of the wrestlers love her dearly. She has a community to which she belongs. To most people she’d just be considered crazy, like people who dress up as Klingons for their wedding. But she seems far more alive than most of the somnambulists you see walking the street. Most people give the appearance that they don’t have anything much to live for. Sue has wrestling. Her passion ought to be envied rather than despised. And this film very gently shows us why.
Through Sue’s love for wrestling, director Megan Spencer has given us a potted history of the Australian wrestling scene, from backyard operations that seem little removed from cockfights to the full scale promotions that fill stadiums. And then, of course, there is the WWE. Home of Sue’s great love, Jerry Lawler. She is, and he makes the point himself, his biggest fan. But the film isn’t just about the wrestling, it’s about Sue and the life she’s lived. A reconciliation with her daughter is the most potent point of the film, a quiet human moment that elevates the tone of everything. Sue’s awkward joy at being re-united with her daughter is touching, and if you still think she’s just a wacko obsessive after seeing that, you’re a dick. And this is what is so wonderful about Lovestruck. It would be easy to do a hatchet job on Sue, her obsession is all-consuming, and you could easily just laugh at her. But she’s a fascinating person, and the beauty of this very short film is that in showing how remarkable she is, it reminds us that everyone is remarkable and deserving of our love and, importantly, our respect.