Category Archives: Plato in an Armbar

Xenophobia, Repurposed

Posted on March 24, 2013 by | 28 Comments

 

 

swagger:coulter

 

Professional Wrestling has a long history of xenophobic themes and story arcs.  “Foreigners should be feared” is as ingrained in the collective psyche of the average wrestling fan as “villains cheat” and “heroes don’t tap out”.  Just in the Wrestlemania Era there are countless examples of people portraying evil, dastardly or bizarre characters hailing from different countries and/or minority cultures; The Iron Sheik (Iran), Papa Shango (Haiti), Kamala (Uganda), Giant Gonzalez (Argentina), Mohammed Hassan (Muslim-American), Eddie Guerrero (Mexico), William Regal (England), Rene Dupree (France), Nikoli Volkov/Boris Zubov (Russia) just to name a few.  Even the beloved Bret Hart portrayed a heel for a brief time built around his Canadian heritage.

This is no surprise.  The business of pro wrestling has always catered to the whims of its largest sociological demographic.  Historically, the fan base has been disproportionately caucasian, low to lower-middle income, lower education level laborers and their families.  These bombastic tales of foreign masses “invading” the United States and changing the American way of life would have resonated strongly with many in this group.  The ethnocentricity of wrestling remained unchanged for several decades.

Yet now, in 2013, a funny thing happened on the way to the ring; the xenophobic storyline was turned inside-out.

After a several month layoff, Jack Swagger resurfaced, but instead of being his former persona (a mean, somewhat generic tough-guy heel) he is now the controversial “Real American” Jack Swagger.  Additionally, he is managed by a character named “Zeb Coulter” who is a more over-the-top (if that’s possible) Glenn Beck-type, fiery rhetoric and histrionics in-tow.  They are currently feuding with Mexican wrestler Alberto Del Rio, largely built around Del Rio’s Mexican heritage and Swagger/Coulter’s hatred for immigrants.  What makes this story special, however, is that the Mexican wrestler, Del Rio is actually playing the face, and the white Americans, Swagger/Coulter are being booked as the heels.  Perhaps the most fascinating thing of all is that the audience is embracing it.

A story like this would have been utterly unthinkable 25, 15 or even just 5 years ago.  Not only would the idea have been a non-starter at brainstorming level, if it had somehow made it onto the program, the fan base would have fervently rejected it.  So what could possibly account for the rapid paradigm shift?

One explanation would be the changing demographic of the wrestling audience and the nation as a whole.  As the United States continues to diversify at a unprecedented pace, all aspects of the market will have to adjust.  At one point, professional wrestling seemed impervious to this changing dynamic, but as the WWE has rebooted to try and reach a younger population with a “TV-PG” product, they have inevitably drawn a more diverse group of young people.  Vince McMahon is, after all, an expert businessman, who has always thrived because of his ability to evolve.  So it’s no surprise that he would create a show that capitalizes on this new market.

Another reason the Del Rio/Swagger program has been successful is that it reflects the struggles of the diverse audience.  It is not enough just to have minorities portray good guys and carry titles; to truly connect with any person the material must speak to their own existential experience.  The Del Rio/Swagger storyline is probably very meaningful to the Latino portion of the audience because it is a retelling of their own challenges.  Swagger and Coulter are the consummate bigots; self-righteous, judgmental, and inflexible.  They assault Del Rio with stereotypes, leveling their rhetorical dagger at Del Rio’s work ethic, morality, value as a member of society.  Del Rio is portrayed as a self-made man who has worked hard, acted responsibly and realized the ever-elusive American Dream.

It goes without saying that many Latinos have experienced prejudice on some level, and could easily identify with Del Rio.  Most Mexican immigrants would tell you, wether legal or illegal, that the intention of coming to America is to work hard, receive a fair wage, and be able to fulfill their familial responsibilities.  For their “side of the story” to be demonstrated in the traditionally racially intolerant world of professional wrestling is a powerful symbol of the direction of American dialogue.

In the end, xenophobia has not only been named (ideologically speaking) but has been transformed into something wholly different.  As the wrestling audience continues to grow more diverse we are bound to see more revolutionary storylines that seek to capture the American narrative from a multitude of other perspectives.  The sociological themes that have dominated the storytelling for so many decades appear to be losing their footing.  In the very near future, professional wrestling may not only cease to be a lovably-backward piece of American kitsch, but may develop into a grandiose retelling of the American experience of diverse populations.

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The Royal Rumble: An Allegory for Capitalist Economics

Posted on January 20, 2013 by | 1 Comment

Royal_Rumble_1

The Royal Rumble event inaugurates the most important 2 months in the professional wrestling calendar.  For wrestling fans, it is the Olympic torch lighting, the tip off of March Madness, and the first night of Hanukah all rolled into one.  The Royal Rumble match itself is a unique, exhilarating spectacle that sets countless story arcs into motion.

But the Royal Rumble match also serves as a microcosm for Capitalist economics.  The coordinated chaos, regulated in the ring by the participants themselves, is emblematic of market forces.  In the interest of brevity, I will highlight some of the more demonstrative examples.

The event pits people against one another in a dynamic, multi-faceted competition.  The Royal Rumble’s appeal comes from it’s ever-changing nature.  It starts with two people in the ring, battling to throw each other over the top rope.  Every 90 seconds another combatant is added (to a total of 30 wrestlers) and the only way to win is to be the last man standing when all 29 other people are eliminated.  At any given time, a wrestler may have to focus on 1 other challenger or 20.  It may be ideal to go on the offensive, trying to tip a vulnerable wrestler out of the ring, or it may be better to skirt around a large scrum.  The challenges of survival are always evolving.

The marketplace is also in a constant state of flux.  The amount of challengers waxes and wanes.  If someone focuses too much on one other person or entity, they open themselves up to attack from others.  Additionally, no 2 competitors are the same.  There are some who are nearly exhausted (could be likened to those drawing a early number), those comparable to each other, and those yet to come (the coveted numbers 29 or 30).

The event is fair, but also skewed.  Everyone gets a chance.  That’s fair.  Everyone draws a number randomly.  That’s also fair.  But the numbering system plays a pivotal role in determining outcomes (or would if wrestling wasn’t scripted).  If you are entrant #1, you are at a significant disadvantage compared with entrant #30.

This too is true of the marketplace.  It doesn’t happen in a vacuum.  The number drawing is a great metaphor for the extraneous factors one can’t control about their fortune.  You have no influence on if you are born into a wealthy family that can bankroll your startup fees, if you have contacts with success in a similar field or if you have the physical resources to accomplish your goal.  This is the random, if somewhat unfair nature of American Capitalism.  It’s not to say the poor kid at community college (entrant #1) can’t win against the wealthy kid at Yale, (entrant #30).  It’s just going to be harder.

The demands of the immediate situation create strange friends and stranger enemies.  Not surprisingly, those who create alliances (albeit temporary) tend to be more successful.  Often, the ad hoc teams are not built on friendship, but necessity.  If Cody Rhodes and Sin Cara are staring across the ring at 7-foot-300-pound Kane, it is in their best interest to put past feelings aside and double-team the much larger competitor.

Conversely, people who would be close friends in other situations become bitter enemies while competing directly against one another.  Many tag-teams have split because of the Royal Rumble event.

These odd alliances and rivalries are typical to the market as well.  The best way for smaller companies to topple a giant in a particular field is to work together, however there are inherent risks when putting trust in other competitors.  Because business relationships are not rooted in camaraderie or altruism, the bonds are tenuous at best.

The winner is often not the strongest competitor, but instead the most resourceful.  I mentioned Kane earlier.  He has never won a Royal Rumble.  Neither has the Big Show, Andre the Giant, Mark Henry, The Great Kahli, or One Man Gang.  The biggest wrestler is not always the winner of the Royal Rumble.  The most successful competitor usually combines strategy, opportunism, intelligence, flexibility and, often, ruthlessness.  The victory goes to those who can evolve.

This is true of businesses as well.  Large, powerful companies fold when they can’t keep up with the rapidly changing environment (see Blockbuster or Circuit City among others).  Ideas become small businesses when they are novel, which become large companies when they are shrewd, which sustain success when they are flexible.  The Royal Rumble and the free market are ultimately exercises in Social Darwinism.  Adaptation is a competitor’s greatest strength.

The Royal Rumble and the business realm are attractive to people because of their unpredictability, and the drama created within their framework.  In many ways the Royal Rumble captures the positive aspects of American Capitalism, while simultaneously highlighting it’s pragmatic pitfalls.  What exactly the positives and pitfalls are, is a matter of perspective, but few can say they weren’t entertained by watching it all unfold.

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Tales Told in the Mid-card

Posted on December 9, 2012 by | 2 Comments

The mid-card can make or break a wrestling promotion.  When done well, it resembles a vibrant, diverse coral reef; the young can be nourished and protected by it, the old can seek refuge within when the light shines too brightly at the top.  A healthy mid-card has a multitude of unique species; the undersized high-flyer, the oft-injured veteran, the promising rookie, and the charisma-less mat technician.  A good mid-card makes use of the imperfect pieces within it.

When a mid-card is booked poorly, it resembles a wasteland.  “Has-beens” roll along like tumbleweed, catching on the prickly spines of “Never-wills”.  If the mid-card is weak, no matter how flashy the main event is, the promotion is incapable of longevity.

I have noticed there are several story arcs that work well in the mid-card.  Good booking is reciprocal; it builds the prestige of the wrestlers involved while simultaneously establishing credibility for the mid-card itself.

The most common (and arguably most important) of these mid-card plot conventions is Up-and-comer gets his first taste of (singles) gold.  This plays out just like it sounds; a talented young wrestler that the promotion feels they could build into a main-eventer begins his championship resume with a solid mid-card title reign. The careers that have been launched this way are too numerous to count.  I am particularly fond of how this was done with “Macho Man” Randy Savage in ’87-’88 (Intercontinental Title), Rob Van Dam in ’98-’00 (ECW Television Title)*, and more recently Austin Aries in ’11-’12 (TNA X-Division Title).  The mid-card title is a perfect way expose an up-and-comer to the audience consistently, build his legitimacy, and test his ability to handle the spot light without putting him in the main event too early.

Another story arc well suited to the mid-card is Established Main-eventer takes time away from chasing the title to settle a grudge.  In this formula, a legit headliner that is not directly involved in the main-event title picture can move down to the mid-card temporarily to play out a “score to settle” storyline.  This is useful because A) It allows the headliner to stay on the audience’s radar even while he is not involved in the main event, so when he is reintroduced in the title scene it doesn’t seem random, B) it can allow a less established wrestler to get credibility from feuding with a big name star.  There is no better example of this than the ’96-’97 Bret Hart/Steve Austin feud.  At the time Hart was an established main-eventer who stepped away from the title picture to go to war against Steve Austin, who at that time was just an undecorated anti-hero with a cult following.  Needless to say, this feud catapulted Austin’s career into highest rung of the wrestling hierarchy.  I also have to mention that Ring of Honor has historically done an excellent job with this plot convention as well.  One of my personal favorites is the Bryan Danielson/Tyler Black feud from ’08-’09.

Finally, there is the Sentimental favorite or comic relief gets a moment of glory.  Sometimes, it’s difficult for promotions to know how to use their oddballs.  Let’s face it, redheaded fake luchadors (El Generico), Elvis Impersonators (Honky Tonk Man) and pimps (The Godfather) are not exactly your prototypical main-eventers.  Fans tend to love these characters, but bookers are often hesitant to put comedic wrestlers over their more “serious” talent at the top of the card.  So another way a promotion can push its less traditional talent is to let them carry the mid-card title.  Any of Santino Marella’s title reigns would qualify as an example of how to affectively run this story arc.

These are just a few of the possible narrative formulas that can be used to give a promotion’s mid-card a wealth of story telling.  The best promotions, like the best sports teams, are built from within.  Good mid-card management is essential to any wrestling company’s success.

 

*Rob Dam never won the ECW World Championship (except when WWE resurrected it several years after the promotion went under) but his Television Title reign, solidified his status as an ECW stalwart. 

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John Cena Over Medium

Posted on November 24, 2012 by | 19 Comments

In 1986 Hulk Hogan was the defacto ruler of the wrestling industry.  He was every promoter’s dream; a massive physical specimen with magnetic charisma, great mic skills and a marketable gimmick.  His appeal was broad.  Men liked him because he was patriotic and tough. Women liked him because he was charming.  Most of all, children liked him because he was heroic, brave and rarely lost.  His bombastic persona worked, because he fulfilled the fans ideas of what a good guy “should” be.  When he would burst forth from the curtain, “Real American” blasting over the PA system, the crowd would come unhinged. Though there was probably a small fraction of the audience that disliked “The Hulkster”, his support was so strong it was filibuster-proof. This was no fad.  Hulkamania lasted for over a decade.

Now leap forward with me 26 years.  It’s 2012.  There is a new baby face sitting atop the main event card.  He’s not the champion at the moment, but he has carried the belt nearly a dozen times in the last 7 years.  He is also a hulking beast of a man, with an easy smile, a quick wit and lots of merchandise.  Like Hogan, he is patriotic, handsome and brave.  He sports slogans of positivity, like “never give up” and “rise above hate”.  When he sprints down the entrance ramp, his music blasting loud, the crowd goes nuts…kind of.

Unlike Hogan, John Cena’s crowd reactions are violently polarized.  Chants of “Let’s go Cena” are met with equally enthusiastic chants of “Cena sucks”.  If it were 1986, this type of crowd response would be unthinkable.  How could the top face in the company fail to garner even a simple majority of support?  What took place in the intervening years, that the very definition of goodness (as defined by the wrestling world) is received with partial and sometimes overwhelming hostility?

The Attitude Era, that’s what.

1985-1995 was the Golden Era of pro wrestling, and it’s narrative was decisively Modernist.  The wrestling universe was populated with clearly defined types of stars; good and evil.  The story arcs were clear cut, the resolution was moralistic, and the crowd knew exactly what their role was.  They cheered for the baby faces, booed the heels, and it was as simple as that.

In many ways, it mirrored the postwar American culture of the 1940s and 50s.  Americans perceived Western culture to be the embodiment of sacrosanct goodness.  Other religions, philosophies or forms of government, particularly communism was thought of as completely, and utterly evil without any bit of merit.  Capitalism was right, beef was healthy, and Jesus was Lord.

The period of wrestling from 1996-2006, conversely, was deeply Postmodern in it’s philosophical approach.  The Attitude Era, as it came to be known, was as grey as the Golden Era was black-and-white.  Every tradition and value from the Modernist period was turned upside down and dumped into a blender.  What came out was a nebulous hodgepodge of characters and story lines, where good and bad blurred into the fickle whims of the audience.  In many ways, the character archetypes were shattered; face and heel were both, at times, prone to cheating, cussing and powerbombing women, while also having moments of great resolve, loyalty, and honor.

This period in wrestling closely resembles the cultural awakenings of the 1960s and 70s in America.  Those postwar values, so sacred to the generation before, were dissected, altered and sometimes outright discarded.  The revolution of thought created a diverse and ambiguous culture.  From the ashes of Modernism arose a new declaration of values, impressionistic in it’s presentation.

Which brings me back to John Cena.  Whatever this period of wrestling ends up being defined as, he will be remembered as it’s figurehead.  WWE appears to be attempting to return to the Modernist leanings of the Golden Era.  While trying to reconnect with a younger viewer demographic, WWE is creating characters using a more rigid formula of baby face and heel.  The narrative is more simplistic and stark in it’s moral implications.  But are the WWE’s efforts at returning to it’s Modernist roots working?  In some ways, yes.  WWE has become a TV PG program and is still able to maintain it’s fiscal credibility (though this year has been less than inspiring from a ratings perspective).  But if the face of your company is the barometer of success, a return to Modernism is impossible because John Cena will never be more than half over.

The reason is, once a culture has experienced Postmodernism, it can never truly return to its former perspective.  Modernism is predicated on accepted naivete and embraced conformity.  Once you have opened the collective conscious to critical evaluation of established values and diverse opinion, there is simply no going back.  The current period is a strange hybrid of both philosophical ideas, and in order for Cena (or anyone) to have sustained, overwhelming support as a baby face, he would have to hold to a set of principles the audience found inspiring, while also having the depth of character to be constantly reinventing himself.  This is an incredible task for anyone, which is why Cena is in the position of being the polarizing standard-bearer of a transitional epoch of wrestling culture.  He will be remembered as the greatest “good guy” from a generation that, unlike the Golden Era, didn’t worship them, but, unlike the Attitude Era, didn’t hate them either.  He will be remembered, as the man who was perpetually half over.  But maybe in this generation, that’s all you can hope for.

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Stone Cold American Ideals

Posted on November 18, 2012 by | Leave a comment

In the industry of professional wrestling, some people get over with flashy moves.  Others create clever catch phrases that worm their way into the collective conscious of the fans.  Still others will resort to being arbitrarily controversial or just plain weird.  In a way, Steve Austin used pieces of all these approaches, but more than anything, Austin got over in his own unique way.  Steve Austin got over by being American.

Before you start emailing me about Hulk Hogan, “The All-American” Lex Luger, and even “The Patriot” Del Wilkes (I can’t remember the last time I thought about that guy!) I want to clarify what I mean by being American.  The aforementioned trio, and a handful of others, have gotten over by intentionally associating themselves with patriotism.  They wore outfits with the flag on them.  They came out to songs declaring their love and devotion to the United States.  They got over with American imagery and rhetoric.  But they didn’t get over by channeling American ideals.

How could Steve Austin be more “American” than the wrestlers mentioned earlier?  He rarely spoke of his home country in his promos.  He generally dressed in black and his music was hardly the “Star Spangled Banner”.  What Austin seemed to understand was that American wrestling fans loved what America represented more than America itself.

First of all, Austin was the embodiment of Rugged Individualism.  He associated with no group.  He relied on no partners.  He was the lone wolf, his survival hinged solely upon his own skills and hard work.  This philosophy makes for a difficult existence, but it produces toughness, self-reliance, and inner strength.  This idea resonates with Americans because it’s woven into the fabric of our history.  Many fans view themselves as individualist, either consciously or unconsciously, and to see this idea played out in the vibrant and bombastic world of professional wrestling is deeply satisfying.

Austin was also unapologetically blue collar.  His interests were simple; hunting, fishing, and drinking beer.  He didn’t concern himself with notions of intellectual development or existential meaning.  Not surprisingly, this “common man’s confidence” spoke to the wrestling fans of his time period, and continues to do so today.  The sociological makeup of the wrestling fan base is disproportionately blue collar.  Inevitably, people are going to identify with those they see as part of their cultural group, and Steven Austin was a natural standard bearer for the American laborer.

Finally, Steve Austin had a deep hatred for authority.  The most affective story lines involving Austin, were also those involving his antithetical foil, Vince McMahon.  Vince was a rich, educated, powerful, well-groomed Yankee who imposed his will on all those under him.  Austin not only bristled at this authority, he openly rebelled.  Wether it be the federal government or corporate suits, most wrestling fans despise people having power over them.  The American ethic is built around the idea of individual freedom and responsibility.  Fans got to live out their workplace fantasies when they watched Austin beat up his stuff-shirt boss.  Again, in respect to the sociological makeup of the fan base, it is likely many viewers worked at a job where they had a direct supervisor, whom they likely despised.  The notion of personal freedom is expressed most fervently when it is threatened.

Ultimately, any wildly popular professional wrestler has to find a way to connect with the fans.  Even the heels have to be able to identify something the viewers hate, and project it convincingly.  The best wrestler, is one sensitive to the collective psyche of the fans.  Austin was particularly memorable because he captured the ideas of a nation that prides itself on ideas.

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