Wrestling is imi­tat­ing tele­vi­sion and the result is seri­ous­ly entertaining

Over time, pop­u­lar tele­vi­sion series have devel­oped a com­pelling for­mu­la that encour­ages view­ers to return week after week in order to see which shock­ing twist will occur next. It’s a method that has worked won­ders, prin­ci­pal­ly because audi­ences entrust the writ­ers of their favourite shows to enter­tain them every time they tune in.

Although pro­fes­sion­al wrestling isn’t strict­ly a tele­vi­sion show, it has every right to be defined as one. Each week, per­form­ers tell a script­ed sto­ry in front of TV cam­eras and a live ring­side audi­ence, the result­ing nar­ra­tive even­tu­al­ly play­ing out at a pay-per-view event. It’s an enter­tain­ment indus­try whose pri­ma­ry goal is to enter­tain huge crowds, keep them invest­ed and ulti­mate­ly encour­age them to buy merchandise.

Yet per­haps the biggest prob­lem fac­ing wrestling is that it isn’t real. That’s an argu­ment for anoth­er day, but how does an indus­try keep itself rel­e­vant when the vast major­i­ty of its audi­ence is essen­tial­ly in on the whole cha­rade? Two of the biggest wrestling com­pa­nies of the plan­et, World Wrestling Enter­tain­ment and New Japan Pro Wrestling, have start­ed focus­ing their atten­tions on the phys­i­cal and ath­let­ic side of sports enter­tain­ment, blur­ring the line between fact and fiction.

This tran­si­tion to a more seri­ous approach has allowed pro wrestling to move away from its cheesy ​’80s and ​’90s hey­day, when grown men from the big fran­chis­es would parade around sport­ing bright leo­tards and ter­ri­ble hair­cuts in order to depict tru­ly cringe-wor­thy char­ac­ters. Small­er com­pa­nies with TV deals do not have the same bud­get or access to tal­ent as WWE and NJPW, so how do they stand out from the crowd?

In 2014, a new wrestling com­pa­ny start­ed in the US called Lucha Under­ground, the brain­child of pro­duc­er Mark Bur­nett and direc­tor Robert Rodriguez. Rather than oper­ate on a week­ly basis like most com­pa­nies, Lucha Under­ground pio­neered a set amount of episodes over the course of a sea­son through which they would tell numer­ous wild sto­ries, each more ludi­crous (and there­fore enter­tain­ing) than the last.

To give you a taste of what Lucha Under­ground is offer­ing, here’s a brief run­down of the reg­u­lar cast of char­ac­ters: Prince Puma (a direct descen­dant of an ancient Aztec tribe), Mil Muertes (an undead over­lord), Dra­go (a man who believes he is a drag­on), Aero Star (a vis­i­tor from out­er space), Joey Ryan (an under­cov­er cop) and a mani­a­cal boss called Dario Cue­to who, along with his can­ni­bal broth­er, has killed sev­er­al wrestlers on the show. Although the char­ac­ters and sto­ries are most­ly fun and sil­ly, much like every oth­er pro wrestling com­pa­ny, Lucha Under­ground brought edit­ing, light­ing and cam­er­a­work to its shows. This wasn’t a com­pa­ny pack­ag­ing their prod­uct as a gen­uine sport, but rather sell­ing it like a tele­vi­sion show.

Today Lucha Under­ground is a viral sen­sa­tion thanks to its orig­i­nal style and the qual­i­ty of the match­es on offer. The one thing hold­ing them back is a lack of big name tal­ents who might attract casu­al fans who are oth­er­wise unfa­mil­iar with the major­i­ty of Mex­i­can stars on the show. This is not a prob­lem for rival com­pa­ny TNA (Total Non­stop Action). Matt and Jeff Hardy were once bona fide WWE Super­stars, adored for death-defy­ing stunts and dev­il-may-care atti­tudes. Over the past few months Matt and Jeff have man­aged to breathe new life into the com­pa­ny, which ear­li­er this year looked to be tee­ter­ing on the verge of bankruptcy.

These two real-life broth­ers are engaged in a wild­ly orig­i­nal ongo­ing feud. After being acci­den­tal­ly injured by his broth­er in a match, Matt effec­tive­ly lost his mind and start­ed to refer to him­self as Bro­ken Matt Hardy and to Jeff as Broth­er Nero. Matt spoke in an odd Shake­speare­an accent, com­posed melodies on pianos and adopt­ed a new look (pic­ture a bad Sweeney Todd cos­play). He expressed a desire to ​‘delete’ Broth­er Nero for what he had done. Rather than con­duct mat­ters on the mat, this rival­ry would take place on the grounds of their own homes and was filmed in the style of a soap opera, com­plete with a script, sound­track and full sup­port­ing cast. Although the rival­ry is still rag­ing on, the sib­lings had a match a few weeks ago dubbed ​‘The Final Dele­tion’. This pre-taped seg­ment was less a wrestling match, more a short movie.

Despite clear­ly run­ning on a minus­cule bud­get, the Hardys man­aged to put some­thing togeth­er that is at once vio­lent, hilar­i­ous, strange and above all immense­ly enjoy­able. Since it was broad­cast on 5 July, The Final Dele­tion has divid­ed online opin­ion but suc­ceed­ed in cre­at­ing a buzz around a once ail­ing prod­uct. Matt Hardy and his var­i­ous catch­phras­es have been turned into memes and t‑shirts and his Twit­ter account, from which he tweets in char­ac­ter, real­ly is some­thing to behold. His recent Red­dit AMA is also well worth a read.

In what can either be con­sid­ered a mark of recog­ni­tion or an attempt to ride on the coat­tails of this suc­cess, the WWE released their own heav­i­ly drama­tised seg­ment that bore a strik­ing resem­blance to The Final Dele­tion, although it didn’t quite match it for exe­cu­tion. Regard­less, this new, almost cin­e­mat­ic, approach is result­ing in some of the most riv­et­ing wrestling in years.