The end of March 1987 brought an interesting coincidence to a certain cultural debate.
March 29th was WrestleMania III, widely regarded as the absolute peak of both Hulkmania and indeed the zenith of the 1980s professional wrestling in total.
Hulk Hogan vs Andre the Giant. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object. Hulkster body slams the Giant to successfully defend the world championship title in what might be THE GREATEST MOMENT IN WRESTLING HISTORY.
And all was right in the world.
AND YET! the very next day was March 30th, the date of the 59th Academy Awards. Winner of Best Original Screenplay that year, for Hannah and Her Sisters, was Woody Allen.
Just as Sir Michael Caine was not present to accept his award for Best Supporting Actor for the same movie (busy filming Jaws IV: The Revenge), Woody didn’t show up either, instead playing clarinet at Michael’s Pub.
Hannah and Her Sisters is indeed one of Woody’s finest. Hilarious and affecting at parts, it is a poignant, funny, and mature examination of family, love, and infidelity as only the master can deliver. And yet…
What do these two events have in common?
In his rant about modern culture, Max von Sydow’s misanthrope smugly asks, “Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling, huh?”
Well, how about that?
Now some criticism of Woody Allen. Aside from his hardly-private life, marrying his stepdaughter and allegations of molesting his daughter, there is plenty to call him out on. Sometimes Woody’s work is charming and good-natured. Other times, however, his attitude can be smug, condescending, and meanspirited, such as the he revelation in the otherwise delightful Everyone Says I Love You that the youngest son’s conservative political dabblings were because of a brain tumor or Michael Rapport’s abusive urban hick in Mighty Aphrodite. The absolute worst was Whatever Works, where Larry David, playing something between his Curb Your Enthusiasm and the standard Woody Allen stand-in, is yet another irreverent misanthropic. In this case, grotesquely age inappropriate love interest Evan Rachel Wood, only six years since Thirteen, dons redneckface to play a Southern Protestant caricature, as do her parents Ed Begley Jr. and Patricia Clarkson. All three find themselves out at Larry’s doorstep, and are so enlightened by his lack of grace that they promptly lose their faith. The nadir.
But back to wrestling.
First of all, were those truly Woody Allen’s words in the mouth of Fredrick (the Max von Sydow character), or was Woody the writer writing a fictional character with opinions of his own? Well most of the characters Woody Allen himself plays are clear stand ins of his own persona, and it is obvious when another actor is playing a Woody Allen type (John Cusack in Bullets Over Broadway, Kenneth Branagh in Celebrity, the previously mentioned Larry David). I would suggest that yes, indeed, Woody Allen, through this character, is scoffing at professional wrestling.
Which brings us back to the question, “What is the level of mind that watches wrestling?”
Modern professional wrestling is a fascinating phenomenon with millions of fans of all sorts all over the world of all types and mindsets. A delightful combination of athletics and theatrics, it is a fascinating cultural explosion. The top of testosterone, sexuality, and celebrity. From Hogan’s flag-waving “take your vitamins and say your prayers” to The Rock’s heel turn “Final Boss” demanding your souls, we see good and evil personified.
“Real” athletes like Muhammad Ali and Ronda Rousey have gotten in on the act.
Musicians ranging from Liberace to Snoop Dogg have come to WrestleMania
While Dwayne Johnson and John Cena’s Hollywood careers have largely been generic, forgettable blockbusters, there have been some gems from true talent recognized, such as Andre the Giant as the lovable Fessik in the iconic Princess Bride, Macho Man Randy Savage as Bonesaw in the first Spider-Man movie, and if course, Rowdy Roddy Pipper in John Carpenter’s incomparable They Live.
And of course, Undertaker in a beautiful crossroads, voicing himself in Scooby Doo and WWE in Curse of the Speed Demon.
Certain retired wrestlers have even gone onto political careers, such as Jessie “The Body” Ventura successfully becoming governor of Minnesota, and Glenn “Kane” Jacobs elected Mayor of Knoxville County.
What exactly does Woody Allen see here? Or does he consider any of it at all? Upper crust elites like Frederick and Allen himself channel surf and stop on a match only long enough to sneer at the lowbrow proles enjoying the pageantry of the squared circle, but that is reductive and cynical, a close-minded approach that fails to consider the majesty of the art and the wide cultural appeal. Think of how Rey Mysterio has crossed the border and brought lucha libre to the WWE, Yokozuna’s sumo act, or the embrace of the Samoan “Bloodline”, portraying The Rock and Roman Reigns as distant cousins, before writing it all off as a white trash endeavour.
If Darren Aronofsky can direct Mickey Rourke to the best performance of 2008 in The Wrestler, then perhaps Woody should consider that a finer filmmaker than himself can see the soul of the institution, and that’s just one level of the mind that watches it.