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The Sixth Child presents…

 

A look at the world of wrestling through the eyes of a film buff.

Hello TWF readers,

 

When Sean gave me the news that my column ‘Done!’ was selected as one of two new features on TheWrestlingFan.com, I laughed my ass off at how the site’s standards have dropped so low. I mean, seriously. These idiots decided my rants, which are more half-baked than a conversation between Phil Spector and the Ultimate Warrior, were the best they could post among their own mindless drivel that they type about 15 minutes before deadline in their parents’ basement before they switch over to the Sci-Fi Channel’s latest “Doctor Who” Marathon. The pity I have for these people is laughable.

 

So on that note, I’d like to say how much of a pleasure it is to join them.

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m The Sixth Child, a 22-year-old aspiring film critic who was born and raised in Melbourne, Australia . Before you ask…

 

- No, I don’t have a pet kangaroo.

 

- No, we don’t drink Fosters.

 

- Yes, most of us are against the war in Iraq despite our idiot Prime Minister saying otherwise.

 

The first time I checked out TheWrestlingFan was after spotting a lone photo-shop job on the letters page of Wrestlecrap.com. The pic showed the head of Koko B. Ware’s parrot Frankie replaced with that of “Mr America ” Hulk Hogan. Needless to say I have been hooked ever since.

 

It’s no surprise TheWrestlingFan currently stands as the internet’s premium wrestling satire website. Probably because it’s the ONLY wrestling satire website. Well, there was that geocities site run by a 14-year-old from Memphis , but Sean has since paid him a visit with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch (tm Marsellus Wallace). Little Virgil hasn’t been the same since.

 

Anyway, the point is the site has been a constant source of seriously funny shit. When the opportunity came up to become part of the team, I was beaten by that fucking pommy bastard Joe Merrick and his mint balls! That limey cocksucker can rot in hell for all I care! (tm Bella Lugosi)

 

So then this latest comp comes up, and I decide, well, my life is pretty empty with my three jobs, my stack of taped films I haven’t been buggered to sit and watch yet, and my unexplainable need to watch every wrestling match I can get my hands on whether it’s Benoit vs. Jericho or Mae Young vs. LOUD NOISES! (tm Brick Tamland)

 

You’ve probably gathered by now that I have movie-quote terrets syndrome. That has come after a lifetime of watching just about any film anyone could be stuffed actually making. I scare myself at the fact that I have seen Teen Wolf Too not once, but TWICE! DEAR GOD SMITE ME!

 

My column is called “Done!”, which is named after the reaction Peter Griffin from Family Guy gave to the movie “Failure To Launch”. But hopefully you won’t have the same reaction to this bi-weekly column that takes a look at wrestling through the eyes of a film nut. Most editions will consist of particular WWE wrestlers being applied to the plots of actual films. You know when you watch any Halloween Special of The Simpsons and they’re doing a take-off of some film? That’s basically what my column will be – only not as funny. Fuck! I shouldn’t have said that. Wait, I’m typing this!

 

So if you’re a fan of films and wrestling, you should find my column at least mildly entertaining. If not, then you have no soul. But I must stress it’s a great honour to become part of the TWF team. They have seriously been the source of a lot of great laughs the last few years, and to be welcomed by them is unbelievable. I look forward to spending an unhealthy amount of time with you all – even though most of you are Canadian.

 

End Transmission.

v1(ahhhhh) – Introduction.

 

In the Woody Allen film Hannah and Her Sisters, intellectual painter Frederick (played by Max von Sydow) scoffs to his wife Lee (Barbara Hershey), ‘Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling?’

 

If I weren’t some dumb-assed wrestling fan, I could have sworn that pretentious tool implied I was an idiot. Would an idiot spend countless hours trying to convince non-wrestling fans why a surly Irishman would keep a midget named “Hornswaggle” under the ring?

 

Actually, Frederick , you’re right, I am a fucking moron.

Don’t ask me to explain why, but pro-wrestling has always filled a special place in my heart. Many, including Woody Allen, suggest I should get that checked out. But in my defence, I will, ironically, try and answer their criticisms as intelligently as I can.

 

I think it was French social and literary critic Roland Barthes who said, ‘There are people who think that wrestling is an ignoble sport. Wrestling is not a sport, it is a spectacle, and it is no more ignoble to attend a wrestled performance of Suffering than a performance of the sorrows of Arnolphe or Andromaque.’

 

If you weren’t one of the 99.9% of this website’s readership who just said to yourself “Isn’t he that McDonald’s clown?”, chances are you’re thinking “Jesus tap-dancing Christ! A wrestling fan knows Barthes! That’s about as rare as an alcohol-free appearance by Joanie Laurer.”

 

OK, maybe not that last part. Like that ever happens anyway.

 

I can tell you my love for wrestling is only overtaken by my love for cinema. When you think about it, they’re not that different from each-other. Both industries are built on a foundation of glitz, glamour and make-believe (Rey Mysterio’s title reign), both have special effects (Hogan’s in-ring believability), they usually consist of plots and characters which are shoved down our throats worse than a night with Paris Hilton (<insert name here> vs. McMahon), and both are centred around the bottom line. That last bit continues to grow because we, the wrestling fan, are stupid enough to shell out money to watch 15 generic pay-per-views, bid at the latest WWE auction for (insert diva’s name here)’s panties and grab a stack of black t-shirts which all have “ass”, “hell”, “damn” or “bitch” written on them.

 

Like cinema, standards and practices in wrestling have changed over time — some of them dramatically. Matches have come a long way since the early days of simple chokeholds and body slams with current in-ring performers living on a wing and a prayer when stepping between the ropes. Tell me another profession (other than being Anna Nicole Smith) where the life-expectancy is below 40.

 

But love it or hate it, wrestling is a unique counterculture that teeters on the boarder of artistry and insanity. And when you try and translate it to cinema, chances are it will suck worse than a vacuum cleaner endorsed by Monica Lewinsky. But despite this formula (wrestling + cinema = suckiness) WWE Films pops up in 2002.

 

Before you write in, yes there have been a few decent titles that included wrestlers or wrestling. Piper’s performance in “They Live” (1988) reached cult status. Terry Funk’s cameos in “Road House” and “Over the Top” remain some of my personal favourites. And let’s not forget Hogan’s big-screen debut in “Rocky III” where he portrayed an egomaniacal wrestler with three moves. Looks like he went out of his way to cover that role.

 

But from that one credible appearance came a slew of shit-heaps for Hogan – “Mr Nanny”, “Santa with Muscles” and “Suburban Commando” proved he was capable of making more bombs than Al-Qaeda. But I’ll admit the productions by WWE Films have been OK so far. But keep this in mind – I’m a self-confessed wrestling fan, and even us diehards were either cringing with cynicism or laughing our collective asses off when the product was announced. So do they honestly think the average film nut was going to say “Wow, a well-built action star blows up a house! I haven’t seen anything like that in at least the last 12 minutes!”

 

To show you how clueless Vince was when it came to movies, you need to go no further than “No Holds Barred” (1989). Upon reading the original script, McMahon and Hogan thought it needed ‘more’, so they rented a hotel room in Redington Beach California to rewrite the script. Well, at least that’s what they tell us (nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more, they had sex).

 

Trust me, the image of Hogan “leg-dropping” Vince’s “grapefruits” in a seventy two-hour session of manlove would be considered more bearable than what they came up with for the screen. It was a true work of fiction. The film had wrestling as the biggest and best form of entertainment available, and Hogan’s character Rip was the biggest star in the world. He was so powerful that all he had to do was growl at a bodyguard, causing him to literally shit his pants. And then they wonder why after I tell people I’m a wrestling fan, they treat me like the ‘special kid’.

 

WWE Films started off innocently enough with “The Rundown” in 2003, which succeeded mostly because the Rock is probably the most gifted personality to ever step between the ropes. Then his performances in other WWE-associated films like “Walking Tall” and “The Scorpion King” prematurely earned him the title of ‘the next Schwarzenegger’. Yeah, because like the Rock did in “Be Cool”, Arnie played a gay cowboy. Oh wait.

 

All I can say is, given the film’s writers know more than Nipple H (and that’s not really asking for much), WWE Films can bring out the next generation of those old-school camp titles we grew up with: “Nighthawks”, “Commando”, “Bloodsport”, “Death Warrant”, “Cobra”, “Midnight Run”, “Kickboxer”, “Tango & Cash” and “Raw Deal”. Then again, the last time I put any faith into WWE’s creative talent, the Invasion angle happened.

 

Therefore, WWE Films is as good as…

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The Sixth Child is a journalist based in Melbourne, Australia. When he’s not feeding his pet kangaroos Binky and Bunky, he watches, reviews and obsesses over films while casually fucking swearing. His campaign to save the world from fishnet tank-tops for men is failing miserably.


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TWF FLASHBACK

January 19, 2007

SATIRE: WWE Acquires the History Channel

by Sean Carless

For years, people have asked, "What would happen if Vince McMahon could dictate recorded world history?" OK. No one ever said that. But it doesn't mean that we can't pretend, right? Join Sean as he looks at how Vince McMahon would spin history if it were indeed for sale. From Bryan Clarke ending World conflicts to Triple H conquering most of Europe, to Divas being burned at the stake, Sean has all your bases covered and then some.

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