1. None Of This Really Matters
As is often the case with WrestleManias, the following night’s episode of Raw makes the show obsolete. New stories begin, old stories are laid to rest, and those that remain have been heightened. We were given so much with Raw that it’s very easy to forget everything they gave to us the night before. And because they often do this year after year, I have to wonder if perhaps they’d like you to forget Wrestlemania as soon as possible. There is very little “shame on you for missing this” when it comes to call-backs during Raw. It’s like WWE operates under the knowledge that they have two audiences: those who will pay for live PPV extravaganzas, and those who simply watch the television broadcast, and they are never too concerned with bridging that gap. Those who cry about “buyrates” and how WWE should promote pay shows more, perhaps you might wonder if WWE ever even thinks about this issue.
And of course they want you to forget, for the soap opera that is WWE is about the now, now, now. Talking about last night, regardless of its quality or importance, is only valuable in the sense it explains the present tense. It is one of the devices WWE uses to keep us glued, but it has a side-effect: if we step away for a minute and let and episode or two go by, we might realize that very few important things actually transpire on any given broadcast. The highlights, recalls, and foreshadowing are all part of the smoke and mirrors, the classic hooks of serialized storytelling. But boy are they getting those hooks in.
2. A Different Tone
Much like the audience reaction for John Cena and the Miz, WrestleMania was reviewed very down the middle. I have to think a lot of the negative sentiment had to do with three items: the exclusion of the advertised U.S. Championship match, the overstated replacement of “wrestling” with “entertainment” in the audio track (all the more ridiculous by the use of an incredibly large “WrestleMania” marquee hanging above the entrance, a “WrestleMania” logo adorned down the entrance ramp, and no fewer than seven “WrestleMania XVII” logos pasted around the ring area), as well as the news that WWE corporate is now trying to actively eliminate the word “wrestling” from the conversation, and, finally, the fact that The Rock’s involvement was simply a run-in, something many predicted but naively hoped would be slightly more.
The first complaint ties in with the second. The U.S. Championship match between Danial Bryan and Sheamus was bumped to Monday night, but I don’t believe time had anything to do with it. It was the match with the slimmest story, the smallest chance to give the people a unique moment. Were we robbed of two of WWE’s best wrestlers displaying a clinic on the grand stage? Perhaps. The match on Ras was unfortunately forgettable. More importantly, I believe the match was scrapped because win or lose, neither character would have grown. And WrestleMania was, if nothing else, a place to grow.
The second complaint, that the show we are watching is now somehow not a “wrestling” show, has been talked about on Fair to Flair in far more detail and with greater enthusiasm than I’m going to place here. Regardless of the name of the company, the meat and potatoes will remain the same. Will Vince and Co. try new things and attempt to come up with alternatives for wrestling as a cash stream? Of course. But I think Raw, Smackdown, and the crews within are safe for now. Besides, we know we’ll at least have one more Wrestlemania. They’ve already have a location and a main event.
3. Smashy Smashy
Speaking of supposed main events, Edge’s defense of the world title was a sharp match with a dull plot. Alberto is a great villain, and Edge is a terrific hero, but they aren’t built for one another. Liking one does not mean you do not like the other. The story there is really between Christian and Del Rio, but they actively decided against that. Maybe leaving WrestleMania season will help. The destruction of the car was satisfying, as is the destruction if any consumer item we cannot afford. That they didn’t turn Christian away from Edge showed a respectable amount of restraint.
4. Disfigured!
WrestleMania has often been used as a place to showcase heightened versions of established characters, and I can’t think of a better coming out ceremony for Cody Rhodes. It’s like they built the oversized screen just to show his new background video, which was beautifully done as headlines from an alternate universe where the world cares about the horrible things that happened to him. The match reflected that. It was easy Shakespeare, the sort of dance that utilizes swords charged with metaphors. A face is never just a face; a mask is never just a mask. It also brought to light the idea of legality in a wrestling match, and even deepened Mysterio of all characters by making him seem unnecessarily vicious. That the villain won through the use of the item that originally “disfigured” him was brilliant, effective, and poetic. But how long are we to believe the ruse of Rhodes? He is of course not injured, not disfigured. How long will they stretch out his delusion?
5. Smiles all around
Is there a better psychopath than CM Punk? Of course there isn’t. He revels in his own abilities and the weaknesses of his enemies. I used to think HD cameras were the largest boon to guys like Orton, whose movements were always subtle, but lately i think it’s really for guys like Punk, so when they smile you can see the crazy in their eyes. That smile communicates so much, at once confidence and delight in his evil, but also surprise, shock even, that things are going his way so easily, that he is actually powerful enough to hang with the top brass and take them to the limit. I have no doubt Punk’s stock went way up since Sunday, and he has the confidence of the company behind him. Because he is right, they can make him a hero anytime they want. But because he is right, he’s the best kind of villain.
6. Jerry, let’s just go back to being announcers
This is the third time they have used Stone Cold as a WrestleMania referee, but the first since it became uncouth to swear on PPV. The result was an itchy censor trigger finger that made every third utterance from the man cause the audio to spurt. Austin is naturally the best referee on the payroll, a man who knows his beats, who casually breaks the rules, allows the competitors to do the same, and can sarcastically count at Cole’s insistence. My only complaint from the contest was the molasses-slow offense from Cole. Everything else was physical comedy out of a great silent movie, very Buster Keaton. This is the sort of silliness that only really exists in pro wrestling but used to reside everywhere. And people loved it. We love seeing the ass getting his comeuppance.
The Dusty finish was unnecessary, but unless you’re going to remove Cole or lawler from the booth, they can’t just end it.
7. Strong style.
HHH and Undertaker wrestled a match in a way no other pair could. I mean that literally. If any other pair gave us a match that slow, we would have revolted. It was plodding, methodical, deliberate, all the synonyms used to describe a dull crawl. And yet, because it was HHH and the Undertaker, it was anything but dull. And this is where the wrestling crowd is lost, for they don’t recognize the performance behind the moves. Remember, jazz is about the notes you don’t play. If you ask me, this match played like the third act of a series that never existed (I don’t count their previous WrestleMania match 10 years ago, as it doesn’t fit the comparison and told an entirely different story). It’s like they went straight to reversing finish moves and crazy spots. Undertaker nearly broke his neck no fewer than a dozen times. The audience felt catharsis in the destruction of the tables and the coal mine—a place built to be destroyed if there ever was one. It’s been a while since the tables have been played for kindling. The new guys don’t really use them as much.
As for the finale, they wanted us to focus on HHH’s hand. We were meant to take a moment and study the worn tape, the deep grooves, the odd fingernails (I feel like we saw his fingernails more in this match than any other, ever). This is the hand of a warrior who, for all his trophies, still isn’t good enough.
8. You hate me now?
What a video package. It’s like they felt they needed to reintroduce Miz to a wider audience, which is strange for them. WWE is known for paring down character traits as a wrestler evolves, but Miz is consistent. He hasn’t forgotten anything.
The only problem, of course, is that very few people actually hate him. He is a villain, sure, but he’s a villain whose actions align much closer to a hero than John Cena. Miz tells the truth. Miz has a mission, a clear goal of universal respect. Miz is just a kid with a dream. How can anyone with a grasp of the facts actually boo that? Contrast that with Cena, who’s goal appears to be to win a championship he barely seems to want, a man who has lied to his people on multiple occasions, who sells merchandise in a way far more obvious than anyone else (he’s wearing red now. Time to throw purple away. Oh, you’re still wearing orange? So 2009.) I think that’s why his entrance fell flat. Cena played the prayer and gospel card on a crowd that increasingly thinks of him as a phony.
The match itself was secondary. Who thought a double countout was a good idea? If you’re going to a draw, the only logical conclusion is disqualification, with dueling chairs or an escalation of paired violence. A countout makes them both look out of shape. I felt like not much else stood out. Still, The Miz won. He won in a way that still makes him look weak and beatable at any lucky second, but he won. At WrestleMania. Against a man that’s never lost a one-on-one match. At WrestleMania. Also, it was at WrestleMania. This is actually a really big deal.
9. An Entire Goddamned Year
Most years, we leave WrestleMania with a vague notion of what might be happening next month. This year, we have absolutely no idea what the next four weeks will bring us. A few stories are continuing, but we appear to have a vacuum in the A-story. It would seem reductive for Cena to simply challenge Miz again after admitting defeat and giving him praise on Monday. What’s interesting about this lack of knowledge is what they did give us, which was quite possibly the most foreshadowing WWE has ever utilized. One day after Wrestlemania 27, we know the main event of Wrestlemania 28. The Rock’s choice of an event a year in the future seemed cowardly, no? I mean, why not fight him right then and right there? But, of course, this is theatre. We can’t just have climaxes wet and sticky all over the place. We have to set the stage. In the eye of WWE, The Rock and John Cena is the biggest possible match they can possibly deliver, so they’re giving us as much notice as possible. A year of buildup is suitably unheard-of in the world of sport, but it isn’t in the world of theatre. We may have no idea who will compete in the World Series, but a quick Google search can nab you information on a ballet happening in October. They’ll even tell you who dies on stage. The arts are nice like that.
10. The New WWE
Razor mentioned that this WrestleMania felt like an older model, and I think he’s right. It reminded me of the very first one more than anything else. If you recall, the first Wrestlemania was mostly grudge and gimmick matches. Very little was actually at stake, but it mattered more than other shows because the stage was “bigger” somehow. That’s the sort of rhetoric that leads a guy like The Rock to accept a challenge a year in advance. There’s no technical reason they can’t do this on Superstars. Also, while WWE is going to have some trouble shaking the word “wrestling” from their company, they’ve had little trouble convincing the world that Wrestlemania is the place to get the best show of the year. If you’re going to do a match, well, son, you best be doing it there.
I still can’t quite put a finger on what was so different about WrestleMania. I think it was that for the first time, the entire show was built around comparably well-told stories that had almost nothing to do with the usual MacGuffins. Well, except revenge. There was lots and lots of revenge on the show. But there weren’t any titles, no accolades, no new groups or fully felled villains. The things you think matter in a great wrestling show simply weren’t there. And what was there seemed a little hollow to many of us, but I wonder if it’s just that we’re not seeing it yet, this new thing that WWE is becoming.
K Sawyer Paul is an author and publisher living in Toronto. He tweets and tumbls. In the wrestling world he is known for This is Sports Entertainment and The Footnotes of Wrestling.
Edited by Jason Mann.
