Kayfabe, pro wrestling’s longstanding code of silence to keep the lie-agreed-upon that wrestling is real, has been slowly declining for about 30 years, but it might finally have died a final death with WWE: Unreal, a new five-part docuseries that debuted on Netflix this week.
Part of WWE’s new deal with Netflix, the show provides a behind-the-scenes peak at the company, during the several months that began with WWE’s January debut on Netflix, continuing through the return of Saturday Night’s Main Event, various other events, and eventually Wrestlemania. The idea clearly is to replicate F1: Drive to Survive, and open up the appeal of WWE to people who might be new fans.
Ultimately, the show is compelling, although we never quite get past the point where we know this is WWE-produced stuff, and everything on screen what they want us to see.
A lot of wrestling programming, whether weekly live shows or documentaries, begins with the notion that people watching know the histories and backstories. Unreal doesn’t take that for granted, even using a clever device in which the wrestlers share their wrestling nickname and then their government name.
A lot of it is stuff we’ve seen before, like the wrestlers conferring with each other backstage, or Triple-H (WWE creative head Paul Levesque) greeting visiting dignitaries. You’d think, from this show, that about 80 percent of Levesque’s job consists of giving “attaboys” to his various employees.
But we also see things that are new, like a first-ever look inside WWE’s writers room, and a lot of time spent in the “Gorilla position,” the name for the area immediately behind the entrance where Levesque and the producers sit during live show.
Former Southern gold-ol’-boy wrestler Michael “PS” Hayes, now a producer, is in these scenes, looking a lot like present-day Mickey Rourke. Bruce Prichard is there as well, although he’s not allowed to be anywhere close to as funny or charming as he is on his “Something to Wrestle With” podcast.
There’s also a memorable moment, in the second episode, where we see Cody Rhodes and Kevin Owens, after their Royal Rumble main event match, discussing the match that just happened, with Owens’ face covered in blood.
Writers’ Room Highlights
The writers’ room stuff is fascinating, although it’s not nearly as much of the show as was advertised.
I loved watching the decision makers having a discussion about, say, who they should have win the Royal Rumble. It reminded me of on the older seasons of Hard Knocks, where the NFL front office brass would be filmed deliberating over who to cut from the roster.
But sometimes it feels, pardon the pun, fake. And not only because way too much time is taken up with such filler as wrestlers signing autographs and talking about their ring gear.
For instance: Triple-H discusses “as we enter into a new era,” which is WWE euphemism for “Vince McMahon isn’t here anymore.” But that’s never really dealt with beyond that, and McMahon’s name and the circumstances of his departure are never mentioned.
No Hulk Hogan
And with the show arriving days after the passing of Hulk Hogan, the telling of the first Netflix Raw makes no mention of Hogan being booed that night, nor is Hogan shown backstage. His only mention in the show, is a brief clip of his NWO heel turn from 1996, as part of a montage of great heel turns throughout history.
Also, if there’s any behind-the-scenes discord or feuding that wasn’t already public, we’re allowed to see shockingly little of it. We see women’s wrestler Chelsea Green arguing that she should be able to use her own finisher, but the show could have used more of that. (We’re also shown Green backstage, with a smartphone tucked into the waistband of her ring gear, which is a humorously incongruous image.
Is it scripted, in the way that typical reality TV is? Who knows? But it definitely had WWE’s sign-off.
Missed Opportunities
There are also some opportunities left on the table in the later episodes, which deal with the shocking decision to make John Cena a villain, as well as the lead-up and presentation of Wrestlemania, when Cena, amidst his year-long retirement tour, became the champion again.
We see some writers’ room scenes, where they debate whether to make Cena a heel, as well as Triple-H talking to both Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and the production truck about how the moment will be presented, as if this were a movie and Levesque were the director.
A lot, though, is left out. The angle of the Cena/Rhodes match, which was the Wrestlemania main event, entailed The Rock trying to get Rhodes to give him his “soul,” Rhodes saying no, and Cena turning villain by attacking Rhodes.
But there was something much talked about in the ensuing months: Why didn’t The Rock have anything to do with the storyline after that? Why was it Travis Scott who interfered in the Wrestlemania match – and didn’t Scott accidentally injure Rhodes’ eardrum?
None of this is so much as mentioned. Even if The Rock wasn’t available because he had to go film a movie, that would have been just a line of dialogue.
As someone interested in all this stuff, I was entertained by WWE: Unreal. But it could have been much more.
