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Netflix's new series GLOW, a fictional period piece set in the 1980s based on the original David McLane Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling promotion may be the best thing to happen to pro wrestling in years. But, we'll get to that in a few moments.
The series, featuring a number of members of the Orange is the New Black think-tank, is very much a loving recreation of what made the 1980s vibrant. The series opens up with Scandal's Warrior blaring as animated neon female wrestlers battle. It's an immediate sensory overload and all you can think by the time the sequence is done is that it's the epitome of what made professional wrestling great in the 80s - big slams, big characters, big energy.
The reality is that a lot of times today, that's what's missing from professional wrestling. There's such a glut of content, ways to watch the content and an alphabet soup of initials that exist in an independent ocean so deep that even I, someone who writes about it for a living, can't keep up with every promotion. There's a format in how shows are produced and we all know what's going to happen - clips of last week, opening promo, someone confronts opening promo wrestler, it likely goes on too long and then they do an angle to build to the next segment, and sometimes (too often), it goes on too long and/or even worse, it goes nowhere. There are events, but there are far too many. The big moments, the ones that are iconic in the eyes of fans who love the business, are lost in the glut of content that everyone is trying to produce. The marathon is endless and it's overwhelming and that has to be making at least some eyes glaze over and tune out, especially if they don't feel that the content they are consuming is worth the time and energy or money.
Some say pro wrestling is in the middle of a revolution right now because the independents are hot (and I love that they are), but when you look at pro wrestling from outside the bubble, the reality is it hasn't changed all that much in terms of presentation since Monday Night Raw decided to stop laying in a fetal position as Monday Nitro kicked it in the stomach, grew a pair, and stood up to evolve into Raw is War. After all, beyond technology changing, hash tags being endlessly plugged and HD cameras making colors pop like never before, what has really changed since the days of Austin 3:16, from a presentation standpoint, for pro wrestling TV?
Sure, everyone works hard - and make sure we are clear on this, I will never ever knock the work ethic of professional wrestlers - but the bubble that they work in is shaped by forces beyond their control in 2017. Back in the day, the political clout Hulk of Hogan could help change and shape the landscape of pro wrestling in his era. So could Steve Austin or Bruno Sammartino or Ric Flair, but unless The Rock decides to raise his eyebrow to professional wrestling, there is not one performer who can create that sort of seismic shift in pro wrestling and hopefully, spark something that breaks the loop the business currently finds itself in
The only way pro wrestling will evolve, from a presentation and character standpoint, is if those changes are forced upon the business. In the 1990s, Eric Bischoff forced those changes upon wrestling. Paul Heyman, with his gonzo, guerrilla warfare ECW presentation, forced those changes. We've seen little pushes in how content can be produced and changed in Lucha Underground and even the Broken Hardys content on Impact Wrestling, but the reality is, as much as it pains me to admit this, neither of those outlets, as entertaining and creative as they have been, had the juice to grab people by the throat and make them stand up and notice. They entertained the fans who cared to watch and got those fans talking, but it wasn't going to create the surge of energy needed to break the dam that's holding back pro wrestling from finding it's next voice.
As silly as it sounds, GLOW may be the best thing to happen to pro wrestling in forever, because with the prestige of being created by Liz Flahive (Homeland) and Carly Mensch (Orange is the New Black) and the marketing might of Netflix behind it, it isn't just more content based around a pro wrestling premise but content that stands out, because it's unique and grabs you by the throat - and when something this mainstream grabs wrestling by the throat, it helps force change. It's going to make decision-makers in the Holywood world look at pro wrestling in a different light and if they are smart, it's going to make decision-makers within pro wrestling take stock of the current crutches and regurgitated ideas that keep it from pushing its own boundaries.
It's not a typical professional wrestling show, nor are there any delusions that it is. It's the origin story of the fictional troupe of women that will populate the promotion, as seen through the prism of Alison Brie's out of work, going nowhere actress Ruth Wilder who's desperate for the success and stardom that has eluded her since coming to Hollywood.
As the series debuts, Ruth is a stripped nail of a woman, at the end of her rope, making the wrong choices romantically and in life, she's flailing away as failure looms ever closer. Yet, there's something we like about her as she's just like us, trying to make her way in a world where life isn't fair and the ramifications of bad choices comes back to haunt in the most inopportune moment. But that's what makes the character of Ruth so great; she's our hero in the show and our window into this world, but she's not perfect. In fact, she's Charlie Brown, the hapless hero. Ruth is broken in ways she probably doesn't even suspect and those cracks in the facade spur the creation of her own adversary and rival on the series, former soap opera actress Debbie Eagan - but the cracks in her facade also eventually become the strength she needs to find.
As one might expect, the series takes a nod from Orange is the New Black with a strong ensemble of female characters, including the aforementioned Debbie Eagan, played by Betty Gilpin, a woman trying to regain control of her life and her lost soap stardom, who reluctantly steps into the world of GLOW. Sydelle Noel, playing Cherry, a former film actress and stuntwoman who ends up training the troupe despite her own desire to be one of the stars, not someone behind the scenes. The former Awesome Kong, Kia Stevens, shows acting chops the likes of which we've never seen out of her inside the world of professional wrestling, showing how much wrestling bookers may have missed out on her in the past.
Some wrestling purists will complain the series exposes the business or isn't respectful to it, but I would argue it's exactly the opposite. The back bumps hurt. The pain of these women, physically and emotionally, from not just the ring but their highs and lows personally, make them real characters, not one-dimensional caricatures. The series mixes the right balance of comedy, characterization and drama not only makes it binge-worthy, but from a presentation standpoint, fresh.
Much like Orange, as the series progresses, GLOW dives deeper into who these women are and what makes GLOW their calling. It goes from being the story of Ruth to the story of the GLOW team, showcasing the type of writing and characterization that not only makes you want to see the women succeed, but also makes you want to see them wrestle. As each episode progresses, you find something about each of them that makes them tick. That's what pro wrestling needs - characters that viewers understand and care about, so when they fall, the viewers feel their loss and when they succeed, the viewers cheer in jubilation.
In GLOW's debut episode, there is a dream sequence as Marc Maron's Sam Sylvia, the world-weary director of the show, becomes entranced as he envisions a grand battle featuring two of the women, good vs. evil with spandex-costumed warriors circling each other as primary colors blast through the television, the way pro wrestling used to be, but the scene would be completely useless if we hadn't been educated to what came before and knew that the showdown was real and personal. It's a reminder to pro wrestling, as a whole, that the coolest wrestling moves in the world don't mean a thing if the audience doesn't care why they are competing. The hook has to be real, even in a world featuring larger than life personalities.
One can only hope GLOW inspires WWE and other promotions to break down their current creative process and showcase a deeper understanding of who the talents are as people, not just personalities reciting verbiage. Not every hero has to be superhuman and perfect. Not even character has to monologue for 35 minutes to open a broadcast like they are a Bond villain explaining their big plan before offing 007. Obviously GLOW, in its current form, couldn't work as a "live" series but if it finds an audience that falls in love with it and wants more, then it's drawing money for Netflix, and isn't that the point of pro wrestling, in any form - to draw money?
So, GLOW may be the best thing to happen to pro wrestling for years, because it can force new ideas, views and production techniques into a business that much like Maron's Sam Sylvia, is currently world-weary and is in great need of a kick in the ass and a makeover.
Mike Johnson can be reached at MikeJohnsonPWInsider@gmail.com.
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