Don’t try these holds

Press, 19 May 1989, Page 7

Don’t try these holds

Ken Strongman

on television

In recent weeks, much has been made of “Superstars of Wrestling.” It has been discussed in schools up and down the country, heady decisions have been made about what our children may and may not do, and dire warnings have been levelled. Were the cromagnon brutes on whom this attention rests able to see beyond their pectorals, they would be amazed and delighted at it.

All this fuss deserved an hour of reviewing time, normally an hour which would assuredly have passed in some other way. It began with an advertisement for a video showing 21/2 non-stop hours of the wrestling heroes. Some people must watch it, those for whom it is possible only to feel sympathy. To see the world through eyes that can enjoy this is also to enjoy the world view of

the average cabbage. “Superstars of Wrestling” is a tribute to the essential crudeness of some parts of the human spirit, if a spirit can be corporeal enough to have parts. Enormous, vast grotesqueries of flesh pretend to pound, crunch, slap, kick and grunt one another into submission. It is a slugfest of hulkomanic megapower engaged in by those who seem to result from rhyming slang — Rusty Riddle indeed.

What is it? Is it sport? Is it entertainment? It does not even come close to either of these. It is simply the worst, the crudest possible television that one could imagine. It is like a glimpse into the pit, the most twisted, hideous form of Edgar Allen Poe nightmare. Bear in mind, whilst this temperate criticism continues, that TVNZ has (presumably) to buy this

from America. How can a country produce series as good as "Wiseguy” and “Spenser,” and this? I would be happy for my licence fee to increase if it would ensure the absence of such programmes. Advertisements, sitcoms, even “Holmes” would be preferable. Anyway, since the general population of New Zealand has been discussing "Superstars of Wrestling," it must have some popularity. What values is it suggesting to those who sit roaring their encouragement to The Macho Man and Hulk Rogan? The entire hour is about the effectiveness of barely controlled violence.

Various human situations are acted out. The worker turns on his boss and slams him to he floor. A barbie doll woman climbs into the ring, upset by the apparent pain of her hulk man and is ad-

monished by a fingerwaving, air-punching, shouting member of the patriarchy. Contrast this with ex-All Black captain Graham Mourie thoughtfully exhorting us not to be violent. Of course, the studio audience loves every minute of it. The only reasonable explanation is that they are out-of-work actors who have been promised a bowl of gruel if they look like enthusiastic lunatics. It is almost pornographic.

Should it be on our screen or should it be banned? My guess is that it is so stupidly contrived that it does not do much actual harm. Nevertheless, it should be censored, not because it celebrates fantasised aggression, but because it shows just how inhuman humanity can become. It is posible, just, to see that the creatures who gambol in the ring are humanoid,

but it is embarrassing to be of the same species. No doubt, this is all wrong and the superstars are all gentle souls supporting themselves through their doctorates in microbiology or somesuch. Even so, “Superstars of Wrestling” does not reach the heights of glamorised violence. It has all the glamour of the rear end of an undagged yak.