[Wrestling] Monday Night Wars GO! (round 2: WWE Raw)
Raw 4/1/10. Spoilers under here, and I warn you this one is as much about me as a fan as it is about the show, complete with a lot of flailing, so if you like your reviews impartial and objective, don't even go here. I mean it. *g*
AAAAAAAAA. Oh my oh my oh my gods. *wobbles*
Okay, so the difference between WWE and TNA, now comparing the two so closely? WWE is a shameless, seamless, slick-as-fuck manipulation exercise. They play us. TNA is definitely run by a gang of ascended fanboys for fanboys, and I love the anarchic yet clannish, keep-up-if-you-can feel that that gives it, but WWE is a whole different game. Especially when, like tonight, they've got the biggest damn fan-lever in years at their disposal...
It's always a bitch when you come into a situation and only find out later that you've involuntarily committed yourself to a faction before you had all the backstory. And that's where I ended up, quite by accident, on the infamous Montreal Screwjob. I had never even heard of the Montreal Screwjob when I started getting properly interested in wrestling a couple of years back; but one of the first things I did when I came in, was fall and fall hard for the Heartbreak Kid. So when the existence and nature of Bret "The Hitman" Hart came to my attention, I found myself in an awkward position. Whether or not Shawn had in fact been the bad guy and done something appalling to Bret, there was no way I was going to join any kind of anti-HBK faction over it - so that kinda left me with a pre-chosen side of the debate to begin from.
So I was actually all over terrified when I heard WWE were bringing Bret back in. Because, well. Given that WWE have a bit of a knack for tearing my heart in two down the middle on occasion, and given my general luck, the chance of my beloved Shawn winding up coming off badly did not sit well with me. I didn't want to see DX get shafted, I didn't want to see Shawn humiliated. And, and this is where that whole pre-set bias problem really comes in, I didn't want to have to dislike someone who from an impartial perspective probably wouldn't actually deserve it.
So yeah, white knuckles here as Raw opened on a glittering montage sequence, all silver light and black and pink dazzle and the rolling thunder of applause over a decade old, captured history shining like a mirage, like a quick glimpse through a portal between Then and Now, truth and legend. When in doubt, screen the myth. And I shivered, feeling a tingle of genuine, old-school carnival magic breathe across the back of my neck....
And then the moment of truth, and I got to have a look at the legendary Bret Hart all for myself. And so help me, I instantly and sincerely didn't want to hate him. He walked out there so proud, so obviously beloved by so many of the crowd, with his steady eyes and long loose dark hair framing a face that isn't quite handsome but clearly started out that way, and... oh hell... he wears pink and black of all the colours in the universe, and a symbol that looks like nothing so much as an eighties glam-rock tattoo, and ohhhh that scream of feedback that opens his theme music is glorious and the bass beat punches me straight in my rock'n'roller's heart, and oh, hell. I suddenly want very badly to fall in love with this man, and that just makes the thought of everything that could go wrong here a hundred times worse.
Then he speaks to the crowd, who are spilling out their hearts for him (except for the few dissenters with pro-Shawn signs, anyway), quiet and easy and almost tenderly, just a little hint of a wry smile at the corners of his eyes, and I'm a complete blur of conflicting reactions as I wait hanging in the air to find out what colours he's finally going to show us, who's going to wind up on which side...
...and he calls out Shawn. Ohgodsohgodsohgods. This is me, nearly eating my own hand. And then yelping in delight because I haven't heard Shawn's own music in ages thanks to the DX reunion and I always forget how much I love that ridiculous fucking song, and I'm mouthing along to the lyrics as Shawn walks out with that gallows walk that he has when things have gone too far to strike poses any more, and oh he must have the worst butterflies in the stomach any human being could possibly have and the set of his mouth makes my heart ache. ShawnShawnShawnsqueak...
And they talk. Just talk. Level with each other right there in the middle of the ring, and I don't know what's script and what's the stuff they both really feel, but it's quiet and forceful and dignified to the last degree, and there's pride and honour visibly blazing in both their eyes and pleasepleaseplease don't let this be leading up to some kind of colossal fuckup-
They shook hands. Oh my fucking gods they shook hands. I yelped like a crazy thing. And then Shawn's standing sideways to Bret and just for a horrible moment the thought of "never let Shawn stand at that angle to you" crosses my mind and then he turns back and they fucking hug each other in the middle of the ring. And all the panic drops out of me like a lead weight falling through a floor because they haven't screwed it up, Shawn isn't going to have to be the bad guy but Bret isn't either, and I can stop hanging and just fall for them both and buy into this ridiculous dreamlike OTT feelgood moment with everything in me, and I am the mark of marks right now and I do not care. *sigh* *melt* *blissout*
And then, ohhhhh dear, Bret called out Vince! And Vince there was none to be seen! Uh-oh... quick, better have a match to break up the tension...
...no, WWE, that didn't mean let's have Divas. FAIL. Let's skip over that one, shall we? Let's also not hang about on the subject of the Fatal Four-Way match for the US Title #1 contendership, about which the only good thing was that MVP won it and Chaos' sake, will somebody stuff a sock in the Miz already?! Where's Mick Foley when you need him - oh, wait, feuding with Eric Bischoff over on TNA...
Backstage, and much more fun, Hunter demonstrates the correct handling of a trained attack leprechaun to a very dubious-looking Shawn (you need cookies and WWE action figures, apparently). Oh, boys. ♥headdesk♥ Whoever said there was a fine line between clever and stupid, must totally have been thinking of DX when he said it. (Incidentally? "Good luck at the sucking it!" is, as exit lines go, frankly immortal. *is five, and cannot stop laughing*)
Chris Jericho, meanwhile, Has A Plan, which involves attempting to buddy up to Bret, reminiscing about the Harts' famous Dungeon [though a more unfortunately named wrestling school there never was, especially once you factor in the endless talk of submission and the number of perverts in the immediate audience round here - Ed.] and - uh-oh - asking Bret to be guest referee for his and the Big Show's match with DX. And, y'know, maaaaaybe consider ringing that bell a little early? If the mood should take him? Eep...
...and okay, yes, I hereby officially fall in love with Bret, because ohhh the way he handled that was sweet. PWNED, Jericho! Especially that little dig about Chris in the Dungeon screaming so loud he scared the Harts' cats, oh, man. They must do this stuff on purpose, I swear. *glee*
So, no dice for Jericho. Bret sat back and watched on the monitors, presumably, as DX went out, complete with trained attack leprechaun, and proceeded to beat seven bells out of JeriShow and keep their titles. And there was not a happier fangirl in the kingdom than yours truly, because that was the last thing that could have gone wrong, really, for me, and it didn't. My boys, still the champions♥. And no more godsdamn screwjobs despite everyone prophesying doom. WWE, my faith in you is restored. *_*
(Incidentally, though, that whole "I don't want you to go!" "I don't want to go!" and exchange of sad eyes between Show and Jericho, though? SAVE ME FOR I CANNOT UNSEE IT. Somebody get the JeriShow subtext away from me! *bleaches brain*)
And then there was more stuff! Sheamus getting challenged by Evan Bourne, so much love for the tiny fearless Evancritter! I wish he'd won. If people are going to be allowed the WWE Championship out of freakin' nowhere then I'd be downright delighted to see it land on Evan, although after seeing him next to Sheamus I'm not sure it actually has tight enough snaps not to fall off him *g*.
Meanwhile, Randy Orton attempted to make nice to Vince and offered to beat up Bret for him, but received a sharp set of marching orders from the Chairman. Poor Bret, everyone's chosen powergaming token for the night. And then Randy fighting Kofi with the Legacy boys hanging over him and threatening him with a kicking and an eviction if he lost! Gaaah. I'll be able to bear it if Legacy break up, but I will still be sad - but at least it wasn't tonight. And Randy and Kofi's match was really good, for the record. It's always so cool watching Randy wrestle someone who has decent speed and moves.
Aaaaaaand finally! Out comes Vince! And he says he doesn't need Bret to come out, but Bret comes anyway, sans music and spectacle this time; down he comes, and he and Vince talk, and Vince talks, and is suspiciously nice and full of praise, and even adds that he's nominated Bret's father for the Hall of Fame! I am suspicious. I am dubious. I am left slackjawed when Vince shakes Bret's hand and turns to present him to the crowd like a newly minted champion!
...and then the flinty-hearted old buzzard, to absolutely nobody's surprise, suddenly spins round and lowblows Bret with a boot to the groin and we go off air with a gasping Bret rolling on the canvas and selling like... well, exactly like a man who's just been kicked in the balls, really. The rattle of pieces of plot falling into place is deafening, but hey, since it wasn't Shawn, it had to be someone, and Vince as the heel to Bret? That, I'm not at all upset by. That, I want to see, because screaming at the screen for someone to put the boot in on Vince McMahon is well within my fannish comfort zone. *g*
And as I examined, considered, and then wholeheartedly embraced the sudden rush of affection and loyal outrage I felt as I watched Bret hit the deck, I came to a realisation... yeah, okay, WWE, I'll put my hand up. You suckered me again. ♥
...but I'm still gonna watch TNA as well. *g*
Laters,
Rath
AAAAAAAAA. Oh my oh my oh my gods. *wobbles*
Okay, so the difference between WWE and TNA, now comparing the two so closely? WWE is a shameless, seamless, slick-as-fuck manipulation exercise. They play us. TNA is definitely run by a gang of ascended fanboys for fanboys, and I love the anarchic yet clannish, keep-up-if-you-can feel that that gives it, but WWE is a whole different game. Especially when, like tonight, they've got the biggest damn fan-lever in years at their disposal...
It's always a bitch when you come into a situation and only find out later that you've involuntarily committed yourself to a faction before you had all the backstory. And that's where I ended up, quite by accident, on the infamous Montreal Screwjob. I had never even heard of the Montreal Screwjob when I started getting properly interested in wrestling a couple of years back; but one of the first things I did when I came in, was fall and fall hard for the Heartbreak Kid. So when the existence and nature of Bret "The Hitman" Hart came to my attention, I found myself in an awkward position. Whether or not Shawn had in fact been the bad guy and done something appalling to Bret, there was no way I was going to join any kind of anti-HBK faction over it - so that kinda left me with a pre-chosen side of the debate to begin from.
So I was actually all over terrified when I heard WWE were bringing Bret back in. Because, well. Given that WWE have a bit of a knack for tearing my heart in two down the middle on occasion, and given my general luck, the chance of my beloved Shawn winding up coming off badly did not sit well with me. I didn't want to see DX get shafted, I didn't want to see Shawn humiliated. And, and this is where that whole pre-set bias problem really comes in, I didn't want to have to dislike someone who from an impartial perspective probably wouldn't actually deserve it.
So yeah, white knuckles here as Raw opened on a glittering montage sequence, all silver light and black and pink dazzle and the rolling thunder of applause over a decade old, captured history shining like a mirage, like a quick glimpse through a portal between Then and Now, truth and legend. When in doubt, screen the myth. And I shivered, feeling a tingle of genuine, old-school carnival magic breathe across the back of my neck....
And then the moment of truth, and I got to have a look at the legendary Bret Hart all for myself. And so help me, I instantly and sincerely didn't want to hate him. He walked out there so proud, so obviously beloved by so many of the crowd, with his steady eyes and long loose dark hair framing a face that isn't quite handsome but clearly started out that way, and... oh hell... he wears pink and black of all the colours in the universe, and a symbol that looks like nothing so much as an eighties glam-rock tattoo, and ohhhh that scream of feedback that opens his theme music is glorious and the bass beat punches me straight in my rock'n'roller's heart, and oh, hell. I suddenly want very badly to fall in love with this man, and that just makes the thought of everything that could go wrong here a hundred times worse.
Then he speaks to the crowd, who are spilling out their hearts for him (except for the few dissenters with pro-Shawn signs, anyway), quiet and easy and almost tenderly, just a little hint of a wry smile at the corners of his eyes, and I'm a complete blur of conflicting reactions as I wait hanging in the air to find out what colours he's finally going to show us, who's going to wind up on which side...
...and he calls out Shawn. Ohgodsohgodsohgods. This is me, nearly eating my own hand. And then yelping in delight because I haven't heard Shawn's own music in ages thanks to the DX reunion and I always forget how much I love that ridiculous fucking song, and I'm mouthing along to the lyrics as Shawn walks out with that gallows walk that he has when things have gone too far to strike poses any more, and oh he must have the worst butterflies in the stomach any human being could possibly have and the set of his mouth makes my heart ache. ShawnShawnShawnsqueak...
And they talk. Just talk. Level with each other right there in the middle of the ring, and I don't know what's script and what's the stuff they both really feel, but it's quiet and forceful and dignified to the last degree, and there's pride and honour visibly blazing in both their eyes and pleasepleaseplease don't let this be leading up to some kind of colossal fuckup-
They shook hands. Oh my fucking gods they shook hands. I yelped like a crazy thing. And then Shawn's standing sideways to Bret and just for a horrible moment the thought of "never let Shawn stand at that angle to you" crosses my mind and then he turns back and they fucking hug each other in the middle of the ring. And all the panic drops out of me like a lead weight falling through a floor because they haven't screwed it up, Shawn isn't going to have to be the bad guy but Bret isn't either, and I can stop hanging and just fall for them both and buy into this ridiculous dreamlike OTT feelgood moment with everything in me, and I am the mark of marks right now and I do not care. *sigh* *melt* *blissout*
And then, ohhhhh dear, Bret called out Vince! And Vince there was none to be seen! Uh-oh... quick, better have a match to break up the tension...
...no, WWE, that didn't mean let's have Divas. FAIL. Let's skip over that one, shall we? Let's also not hang about on the subject of the Fatal Four-Way match for the US Title #1 contendership, about which the only good thing was that MVP won it and Chaos' sake, will somebody stuff a sock in the Miz already?! Where's Mick Foley when you need him - oh, wait, feuding with Eric Bischoff over on TNA...
Backstage, and much more fun, Hunter demonstrates the correct handling of a trained attack leprechaun to a very dubious-looking Shawn (you need cookies and WWE action figures, apparently). Oh, boys. ♥headdesk♥ Whoever said there was a fine line between clever and stupid, must totally have been thinking of DX when he said it. (Incidentally? "Good luck at the sucking it!" is, as exit lines go, frankly immortal. *is five, and cannot stop laughing*)
Chris Jericho, meanwhile, Has A Plan, which involves attempting to buddy up to Bret, reminiscing about the Harts' famous Dungeon [though a more unfortunately named wrestling school there never was, especially once you factor in the endless talk of submission and the number of perverts in the immediate audience round here - Ed.] and - uh-oh - asking Bret to be guest referee for his and the Big Show's match with DX. And, y'know, maaaaaybe consider ringing that bell a little early? If the mood should take him? Eep...
...and okay, yes, I hereby officially fall in love with Bret, because ohhh the way he handled that was sweet. PWNED, Jericho! Especially that little dig about Chris in the Dungeon screaming so loud he scared the Harts' cats, oh, man. They must do this stuff on purpose, I swear. *glee*
So, no dice for Jericho. Bret sat back and watched on the monitors, presumably, as DX went out, complete with trained attack leprechaun, and proceeded to beat seven bells out of JeriShow and keep their titles. And there was not a happier fangirl in the kingdom than yours truly, because that was the last thing that could have gone wrong, really, for me, and it didn't. My boys, still the champions♥. And no more godsdamn screwjobs despite everyone prophesying doom. WWE, my faith in you is restored. *_*
(Incidentally, though, that whole "I don't want you to go!" "I don't want to go!" and exchange of sad eyes between Show and Jericho, though? SAVE ME FOR I CANNOT UNSEE IT. Somebody get the JeriShow subtext away from me! *bleaches brain*)
And then there was more stuff! Sheamus getting challenged by Evan Bourne, so much love for the tiny fearless Evancritter! I wish he'd won. If people are going to be allowed the WWE Championship out of freakin' nowhere then I'd be downright delighted to see it land on Evan, although after seeing him next to Sheamus I'm not sure it actually has tight enough snaps not to fall off him *g*.
Meanwhile, Randy Orton attempted to make nice to Vince and offered to beat up Bret for him, but received a sharp set of marching orders from the Chairman. Poor Bret, everyone's chosen powergaming token for the night. And then Randy fighting Kofi with the Legacy boys hanging over him and threatening him with a kicking and an eviction if he lost! Gaaah. I'll be able to bear it if Legacy break up, but I will still be sad - but at least it wasn't tonight. And Randy and Kofi's match was really good, for the record. It's always so cool watching Randy wrestle someone who has decent speed and moves.
Aaaaaaand finally! Out comes Vince! And he says he doesn't need Bret to come out, but Bret comes anyway, sans music and spectacle this time; down he comes, and he and Vince talk, and Vince talks, and is suspiciously nice and full of praise, and even adds that he's nominated Bret's father for the Hall of Fame! I am suspicious. I am dubious. I am left slackjawed when Vince shakes Bret's hand and turns to present him to the crowd like a newly minted champion!
...and then the flinty-hearted old buzzard, to absolutely nobody's surprise, suddenly spins round and lowblows Bret with a boot to the groin and we go off air with a gasping Bret rolling on the canvas and selling like... well, exactly like a man who's just been kicked in the balls, really. The rattle of pieces of plot falling into place is deafening, but hey, since it wasn't Shawn, it had to be someone, and Vince as the heel to Bret? That, I'm not at all upset by. That, I want to see, because screaming at the screen for someone to put the boot in on Vince McMahon is well within my fannish comfort zone. *g*
And as I examined, considered, and then wholeheartedly embraced the sudden rush of affection and loyal outrage I felt as I watched Bret hit the deck, I came to a realisation... yeah, okay, WWE, I'll put my hand up. You suckered me again. ♥
...but I'm still gonna watch TNA as well. *g*
Laters,
Rath