The Values of Romanticism in the Performance Art
of Professional Wrestling
Despite professional wrestling’s entrance into the sphere of performance art
being relatively young, the wealth of history that this sport has managed to create for
itself in such a short span of time contains enough content to fill a library several times
over. This marriage of traditional wrestling and showmanship has its origins in early
19th century Western Europe, and, as the time frame suggests, is firmly tied to the values
of Romanticism to this day.
The element of Romanticism that is most prevalent in contemporary professional
wrestling is, without a doubt, individualism. The empowerment of the individual, and
his depiction as an emotional, unique being, is a key feature of Romanticism, while at
the same time serving as the pillar upon which the story-telling style of professional
wrestling was built. Evidence of this knotted nature between professional wrestling and
individualism was never more apparent than during the late 1990s and early 2000s, a
period marked by a great increase of public interest in the sport. This, most golden of
the golden eras of professional wrestling, took the world by storm, not because the sport
itself had changed, but rather it was the USA’s wave of rebellious counterculture that
did wonders for the business in its key market. The era gave birth to household names
like Dwayne Johnson, Mick Foley, and, most importantly, Steve Austin.
“Stone Cold” Steve Austin didn’t look like any of the previous big-name
wrestlers. Being a bald man of a slightly above-average build, he never fit the mold of
larger-than-life superstars that wrestling fans came to know. However, it was this
average look, combined with his fiery, ruthless persona, that made him arguably the
most popular wrestler of all time. He was promoted as the everyman for a restless,
rowdy generation of Americans, being constantly at odds with the chairman of the
company he worked for. Austin’s various beatdowns of authority figures represented a
fantasy for the average American working-class man who wished to release his
suppressed frustration and showcase his authentic self. This shift towards intense
emotion is reminiscent of the disillusionment that people felt towards Neoclassical
values during the transition into Romanticism. Most Americans were tired of the stale,
oppressive corporate atmosphere that was rapidly becoming the norm in the workplaces
of North America, and seeing an angry Steve Austin beating up his boss on a regular
basis was something they found immensely entertaining.
The archetype of the everyman in professional wrestling wasn’t born with the
character of Steve Austin, although he did play this part at a time when it was perhaps
most appropriate to do so. Another iconic wrestler of the people was “The American
Dream” Dusty Rhoades. Similarly to Austin, Dusty played the role of a blue-collar
working man fighting against the monotony of everyday life during the 1970s. Dusty
Rhoades was in many ways a predecessor to Steve Austin. The former would always be
promoted as the underdog, who would never stoop to the level of his nefarious
opposition, always remaining pure and uncorrupted, whereas the latter served as more
of an antihero, embarrassing his opponents with their own tricks. Both characters exist
as a portrait of what was considered to be an independent individual of their respective
eras and showcase a frightening escalation of mass dissatisfaction between these two
eras. The character of Steve Austin would be considered too extreme to be likable in
Dusty’s time, while the character of Dusty Rhoades would be regarded as too mellow
during Austin’s time.
As a response to the rational, progress-celebrating neoclassical literature,
Romanticism brought about a new-found appreciation for the unpredictable power of
nature, and it is precisely this tie with nature that would seep its way into the foundation
of professional wrestling, which was back then only a circus attraction. Even the earliest
showmanship-reliant wrestlers, such as "Bonnet, the ox of the low Alps," would
incorporate various animals or even natural phenomena as their nicknames in order to
exaggerate their presence. This is not to say that these nicknames were all show and no
go, as some wrestlers who carried them truly seemed supernatural. There is noone better
to serve as a testament to the bond between professional wrestling and nature than
André René Roussimoff. André the Giant, a wrestler suffering from gigantism, was
billed to be 224 centimeters in height and 236 kilograms in weight. These measurements
were, of course, slightly inflated. Nevertheless, the size and unreal athletic ability, at
least in his early days, made the giant one of the first special attractions in professional
wrestling, earning him the nickname "The Eighth Wonder of the World." Promoters who
were lucky enough to book André always built him up, not necessarily as a man, but
more so as an unstoppable force of nature, taking part mostly in squash matches. In his
later days, once he settled in the World Wrestling Federation as a mainstream name
among the likes of Hulk Hogan and Roddy Piper, André took part in more promotional
interview segments of wrestling programs. Again, these segments did not at all seem
like interviews with merely a man with gigantism, as the interviewers would constantly
marvel over the naturally gifted curses that André possessed. Announcers would
describe him similarly to the way Joseph Conrad’s Marlowe described the African
wilderness. That being an immovable wall that no mortal man could ever conquer. Even
André’s in-ring style was akin to that of an animalistic predator playing with his prey,
already knowing that the fight was won. The giant would spend most of his run as an
antagonist, who would go on long win-streaks, only to finally be put down by various
prospective talents, making many stars in the process. The most notable wrestler to
defeat André was one Hulk Hogan, whose stardom was propelled to new heights after
the bout, as he, against all odds, managed to defeat nature itself.
Professional wrestling has an advantage over many other forms of performance
art, as the emotion and passion exuded in simulated wrestling encounters are not
something that needs to be acted out. The wrestlers look tired and in pain by the end of
a particularly long match because that is exactly the state in which they are in. To
amplify this, wrestlers are taught to further sell their opponent’s offense, making it seem
even more devastating than it is, with the performers embracing these intense emotions
as a part of their act, similarly to Romanticism’s embracement of emotions, as part of
the human experience. No other match illustrates the importance of emotion in
professional wrestling than the encounter between Shawn Michaels and The Undertaker
at Wrestlemania 26. This match served as a sequel to the pair’s beloved bout at the
previous year’s Wrestlemania, in which Michaels failed to secure a victory over The
Undertaker, and now wagered his retirement in order to compete in this second clash.
Both of these generational performers had careers that spanned several decades, with
their performances defining the childhoods of most wrestling fans, and this matchup
would fill the role of a climax to those legendary careers. On one side, there was the
imposing, gothic presence of The Undertaker, who had a great size advantage, while on
the other side was a desperate, scrappy Shawn Michaels, who was prepared to sacrifice
everything in order to achieve victory. The stakes went far beyond anything the industry
had previously seen, as few could imagine The Undertaker’s Wrestlemania win streak
coming to an end, and even fewer the retirement of a still physically competent Shawn
Michaels. The setting of the match is also something that mustn’t be left out of the
discussion, as Wrestlemania is undisputably the biggest annual wrestling show, carrying
its own history of legendary encounters. Of the 72.000 fans in attendance at the 26th
Wrestlemania, none remained quiet as the main event of the night commenced. Both
Shawn and The Undertaker gave it their all, selling the many injuries that they
accumulated throughout their careers and playing to each of their strengths. The closest
the audience came to being silent that night was during the ending of this cathartic
matchup. The front rows were filled with faces of disbelief, as the three count was made
and The Undertaker declared the victor. Michaels was flooded with a sea of chants of
appreciation, as he left the ring in his wrestling gear, for what was expected to be the
last time.
Although modern professional wrestling is an ever-changing industry, just as it
has always been, the core principles that were there since its conceptualization during
the period of Romanticism are still largely present. Whether it’s the perseverant
individualistic heroes, their naturally gifted, mighty adversaries, or the intense,
emotionally-driven encounters between the two, it is safe to say that professional
wrestling will never abandon its roots, as they are the very thing keeping it relevant.