CORY: With the introduction of Sling TV and CBS’s All-Access and HBO’s solo version of Go on the way, OTT services are likely the future of television. But one of the world’s largest entertainment companies was ahead of this curve: WWE. With the sports entertainment goliath’s WWE Network about to enter its second year of operations, there’s no better time to assess how Vince McMahon’s latest pet project has fared, and to consider how other companies can learn from the Network.

For the uninitiated, the Network gives fans access to WWE’s immense content library, including hundreds of PPV events and old episodes of various TV programs, as well as live streaming of current PPVs, all for $9.99 a month. For long-time wrestling fans like us, the Network often feels like a dream come true and for younger members of WWE’s audience, it’s a great opportunity to learn the history of the business—or at least WWE’s version of it. But this first year hasn’t simply been pure euphoria. Drew, what’s been the most surprising and/or the most disappointing thing about the Network thus far?

DREW: Although original content was a major part of the original announcement of the WWE Network at CES 2014, WWE has since emphasized two major selling points in their marketing: cheaper PPVs and nostalgia programming. WrestleMania 30 may have been the first PPV to appear on the Network that April, but the Network truly seemed revolutionary when it aired its first live wrestling special just three days after launch: NXT Arrival.

Despite being WWE’s developmental brand and producing from a 400-person ‘arena’ at Full Sail University in Orlando, FL, NXT is an exciting, progressive, and I’d argue better wrestling product that has emerged as a compliment and an alternative to the ‘main roster’ shows. NXT has yet to put on a bad special (aired every 2-4 months) and is the most complete program WWE produces. In fact some critics argue NXT has made ‘main brand’ WWE programming look worse in comparison, an unexpected detriment of the Network. NXT and new original shows are rarely pushed as selling points yet seem much more necessary to retain long-term subscribers who may quickly lose interest in or simply exhaust the historical library (like Netflix & Amazon’s pushes for original content).

Looking back at that initial announcement makes me wonder just how much the Network altered WWE’s business practices as well as its current narratives. How has the Network changed your understanding of WWE programming, both creatively and economically?

CORY: It’s funny that you ask that, because a year in, I’m not sure WWE understands exactly how the Network has changed its storytelling. While giving away all the PPVs as part of the monthly subscription is a great deal for fans, WWE now treats its less essential PPVs as less essential. WWE storytelling is built on the foundation of the monthly calendar: three to five weeks of TV that builds to a PPV event, rinse, and repeat. But most PPVs now feel like episodes of Monday Night Raw—itself now stretched to 3 hours a week—in that they’re full of comedy spots, rudderless match-ups, and a lack of forward momentum.

Meanwhile, the ‘new’ elements introduced into WWE’s stories with the Network haven’t paid dividends either. TV and PPV events are now bracketed with Sportscenter-like pre- and post-shows, except for when they’re randomly not. Occasional ‘breaking news’ segments further blur the lines between reality and ‘reality’, but are few and far between, despite the fact that WWE spent millions building a TV studio for such telecasts.

Of course, these creative issues aren’t just symptomatic of the Network’s rise; they stem from WWE’s overextended nature that sees them produce seven hours of TV each week, along with various web shows, and an E! reality show. Unlike Amazon and Netflix, who learned that the best way to succeed today is in a building small but dedicated fan base, the Network further signals that WWE is trying too hard to be something to everyone. Do you have a more positive outlook on the company’s recent creative output?

DREW: Although playing the face to your heel would make better use of our conversation format, I’m afraid I cannot disagree (beyond the aforementioned NXT). Over-exhaustion and ‘broadcasting’ seem to be the primary issues. WWE simply isn’t big enough to produce the variety of original content a network requires, hence the reliance on cheap studio shows and repackaged library content—Countdown, Rivalries, Monday Night Wars. The Network’s original slate is basically the same historical ‘moments’ reframed over and over again. WWE Groundhog Day.

While creative exhaustion is reason for fans to be concerned, it is the economic impact on WWE and its performers that seems more up-in-the-air. WWE introduced the Network with incredibly high goals that were not met, hurting their stock profile as well as their renegotiations with cable channels for Raw and Smackdown. It wasn’t until this past month—after expanding to both Canada and the UK—that WWE was able to hit the precious 1 million subscriber count. That news boosted stocks, but the WWE performers might not be fairing as well. It is unclear how they are being compensated for a loss of PPV bonuses usually paid out based on PPV buys (at the significantly higher rate). Uncertainty over the Network played a role in star CM Punk’s notable departure early last year while talent cuts last summer seemed a direct response to low-subscriber counts and fledgling stock performance.

The conversation continues in Part 2 where Cory & Drew talk about the Network’s future and influence on other OTT services.

WWE recently debuted a new character named Zeb Colter, a Vietnam veteran with a particularly negative view of the current direction of “his country,” complete with racist undertones and far-right political views. Thrust into the spotlight as the manager of wrestler Jack Swagger, the duo quickly gained infamy and raised the ire of Tea Party conservatives who believed they were being villainized, eventually finding their way into the crosshairs of conservative uber-pundit Glenn Beck. Suddenly, the fighting spilled outside the ring and became a major news story for both sides, covered by The Hollywood Reporter, ABC News, and CNN.

While the issue is ostensibly about the negative portrayal of a certain politically-minded group in this country, Glenn Beck and especially WWE have taken advantage of the situation not for political gains, but for the oldest reason in media: publicity. While WWE is no stranger to complaints for its sometimes controversial, violent, and objectifying content, they rarely provide a direct response. More often, they skirt the issue by touting their various positive outreach outside their television programs, with efforts like the anti-bullying Be A Star Campaign, their WrestleMania Reading Challenge, and Superstar John Cena’s 300 plus Make-A-Wish wishes. But in this particular instance, WWE saw a perfect window to not only respond to this criticism, but gain more attention at the same time. They did so with the following video, released on their official YouTube page:

WWE’s response is, like most of their work, over-the-top, direct, and begging for attention. The video begins with a standard WWE-style ‘promo’ where Zeb and Jack run down illegal immigrants, non-English speakers, and World Heavyweight Champion Alberto Del Rio for his Mexican heritage. About one and a half minutes in, however, the characters break the fourth wall, revealing they are standing in front of a green screen with professional lighting and cameras surrounding them. Even more out of character, literally, both men reveal their true names (Wayne Keown and Jake Hager) while emphasizing their nature as entertainers and their role as antagonists in the current story WWE is telling.

What is phenomenal about this presentation from WWE is a complete break in standard operating procedure for the company. For years, WWE has generally insisted upon its performers staying in character during media appearances, sometimes extending into their personal lives as well, as was the case when Serena Deeb was released in 2010 for (allegedly) drinking in public while the character she was portraying was meant to be living a ‘straight-edge,’ alcohol-free lifestyle. What would make WWE change this policy in such a sharp direction, not only allowing performers to break character but officially having them do so?

The answer is, you guessed it, publicity. As I mentioned before, when Breitbart and Glenn Beck originally reacted to the storyline and characters, WWE suddenly saw more mainstream media attention than usual. It didn’t matter what people were saying about the WWE, it only mattered people were suddenly looking in their direction. And with their flagship show WrestleMania just one month away, the extra eyes could not come at a more opportune time. Even before this fight broke out, WWE had been positioning itself strategically to bring in more casual and unconverted fans, resigning Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and making him the new WWE Champion as well as announcing a partnership with Paramount to help promote two of their upcoming releases, both of which, of course, star The Rock. And just this past Monday, they announced Donald Trump as the newest ‘celebrity member’ of their WWE Hall of Fame.

Clearly, WWE saw the increased attention as another opportunity to build buzz during the most crucial time of their year. This is made clear in the video, as Wayne and Jake (now out of character) take the opportunity to promote WWE’s success and PG nature. Although responding to Glenn Beck, they find a way to slip in nuggets of information that sound meant for an investor’s meeting: 14 million US fans, broadcasting in 145 countries, a desirably audience that’s 20% Hispanic, 22% African-American, 35% female, and covers a variety of age groups, oh, and the #1 show on USA Network. Phew. But that’s not all! After comparing themselves to hit shows like Glee and NCIS, WWE takes a shot at primetime television, touting their PG rating by mentioning they do not depict murder, rape, or gun violence.

In the end, WWE extends a challenge to Glenn Beck, offering him five minutes of unedited time on Monday Night Raw to offer a rebuttal. Beck’s response: “Unfortunately, I am currently booked doing anything else.” While seemingly ending the grudge, WWE wouldn’t let a “no” from Beck stop them from keeping the feud going, mocking Beck on this past Monday’s Raw to yet more media coverage, even posting a video of their own Michael Cole trying to get an interview with Beck at Glenn Beck Studios.

For WWE, the extremely rare moment of ‘truth’ and peek behind the curtain offered in these videos were well worth it. The larger controversy they’ve generated with the Tea Party is exactly what they wished for, and the video gave them a chance to not only fend off attacks from a powerful political segment, but gain more mainstream publicity and an outlet for corporate promotional content. As the title of wrestling promoter and former WWE rival Eric Bischoff’s best-selling autobiography says: controversy creates cash.

Jerry "The King" Lawler

During the September 27, 2007 episode of WWE’s Smackdown, the show’s general manger Teddy Long suffered a heart attack during his planned in-ring wedding. This was part of a storyline. Five years later, on the September 10, 2012 edition of WWE’s Monday Night Raw, ringside and television commentator Jerry Lawler collapsed off-camera and would later be reported as having suffered a heart attack. This, unfortunately, was not a storyline. While both of these events ‘happened,’ only the latter was real – as real as anything could possibly get.

The real heart attack that took place on September 10 of this year left the WWE in a position no other television broadcaster ever has to face. This media production had to not only tell its audience on live broadcast television that a man just had a heart attack, but also convince their audience that a man actually had a heart attack. Before we get into what this all means, let’s take a look at what happened that night.

Jerry Lawler had been at the announce table with fellow commentator Michael Cole as he is almost every episode. These two men ‘call the action’ in the ring, narrating the events to give context and background information to the viewer. During a match, Lawler collapsed at ringside (off-camera) and the announcers went silent. All the home audience could hear was the ambient noise from the arena. After several minutes, Cole began calling the match on his own with no acknowledgement for Lawler’s absence. It was not until two segments later that Cole addressed the audience about the incident:

Professional wrestling has always had a unique relationship with reality, as the fictionalized nature of the performance is tacitly understood by the audience, leading to the assumption that whatever is seen is planned or ‘part of the act.’ How, then, is the audience supposed to react to this news, given the WWE’s constant reification of the idea that everything one sees is a story? The live broadcast gives them little time and resources to not only acknowledge the event, but to clarify its legitimacy. So they state (via Cole): “This is not part of tonight’s entertainment. This has happened… This is a real life situation.” This mantra was restated throughout the remaining 3-hour broadcast, with new details on the situation given each time.

Here one can begin to see the type of situation WWE found itself in. This is a company that operates on the assumption that whatever is seen on their broadcasts is part of a larger performance, a fictitious storyline. However, this unique convention has led to problems in the past. Take, for instance, when real life chairman of WWE Vince McMahon appeared as his ‘character’ Vince McMahon (think Stephen Colbert and ‘Stephen Colbert’) on a Raw broadcast and ‘died’ in a fiery limousine explosion.

While this was meant to be a ‘kayfabe’ event (meaning existing within the fiction of the program), there were possible real life consequences. As a publically traded company, WWE answers not only to their paying customers and fans, but to their stockholders as well. During the ‘McMahon death’ angle, CNBC reporter Darren Rovell questioned if purporting the head of your company has ‘died’ on your company’s official press release and website could be grounds for misleading stockholders. The company’s response:

“It is well known to our shareholders and our viewers that “Mr. McMahon” is a character portrayed by Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the founder and Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc.”

Here we see a fascinating example of the WWE acknowledging the artifice of their promotion, citing ‘character’ and ‘story’ as reasons why such an event should not have real world consequences. Examples like this show that for WWE, the scripted segment is the norm, and reality is the exception to the rule, not the other way around. WWE expects viewers to know the fictive nature of the events on-screen, despite constant attempts to undermine their own artifice. Instead of just showing the limo explode on-screen, the storyline crept into all other forms of their media empire: website, press releases, WWE Magazine, and recap shows. Vince McMahon did not make public appearances for weeks during the angle. This is like if an Emmy-nominated actor whose character was killed off the show couldn’t go to the ceremony because the writers wanted to ‘keep the fiction alive.’

Teddy Long's "Storyline" Heart Attack

Returning to Jerry Lawler’s heart attack, what makes this event so fascinating is how no other television broadcast has to deal with such issues of reality/fiction. Part of this is due to the live nature of the performance, but Saturday Night Live, as an example of another live performance show, would rarely face this problem because they follow certain conventions in terms of content and portrayal. SNL rarely challenges standard expectations and so their audience is trained to easily tell what is a written sketch and what is not. However, WWE’s long history of bucking convention makes this negotiation more difficult, as can be seen with its past use of a heart attack in a storyline mentioned in this article’s opening. When little is off-limits in terms of storytelling fodder and anything can be expected, how can the audience tell when something truly unexpected happens?

Overall, the live fiction program is a rare part of the contemporary television landscape, and this special nature raises particular challenges and negotiations, particularly when it comes to the nature of fiction and reality, the planned and the spontaneous. Professional wrestling not only lives in this tenuous environment, it thrives upon it. However, existing within such a state of tension brings unique challenges with unique solutions.

While growing up in suburban Montreal, my British grandmother often told me stories about “real” wrestling in Québec during the 1960s, not that she was ever a fan. In these stories, she was merely recalling with pride the stars admired by my late grandfather after they had emigrated to Canada. Among them was Édouard Carpentier—“a real athlete,” she’d boast—who passed away this past Saturday, October 30th, at the age of 84. “He was a real wrestler,” she repeated with almost nauseating frequency. But while the idea irked me at the time because I thought she was taking a shot at the wrestlers I loved—“Macho Man” Randy Savage, “The Model” Rick Martel, “Mr. Perfect” Curt Hennig, among others—I never quite managed to fully doubt her. Maybe wrestling was real at one time, and maybe Carpentier was a star.

Media scholars have two reasons to remember Carpentier. He came into his own during wrestling’s transition to an entertainment industry led by three companies, known as “the Big Three,” each taking advantage of the medium of television in its own ways. He was also featured in a wonderful Québécois documentary film, La Lutte/ Wrestling (1961), made by Michel Brault during the cinéma direct era with consultation by Roland Barthes.

Born Édouard Ignacz Weiczorkiewicz to a Russian father and Polish mother in Roanne, Loire, France on 16 July 1926, Carpentier became a member of the French Resistance during the Occupation, for which he was awarded two medals by the French government. He moved to Canada in 1956, becoming one of the biggest stars in North America.

His career highlight came in 1957, when at the age of 26 he wrested the NWA World Heavyweight championship from Lou Thesz, one of the greatest wrestlers in the history of the industry. The title win was not without controversy. This was a period when the wrestling industry consisted of regional firms, or “territories.” The National Wrestling Alliance, or NWA, was formed by several regional promoters in 1948, and was henceforth regarded as a national governing body in the U.S. One world champion was crowned, the second being Thesz himself. The title would only change hands via a vote among the promoters. On 14 June 1957 in Chicago, Carpentier got the nod, in a way. He faced champion Thesz in a best-of-three battle. The wrestlers split the first two falls, with Carpentier winning the third on a disqualification. Titles then as now only change on a pinfall or submission. Still, the official raised Carpentier’s hand in victory and awarded him the title.

A complex storyline was supposed to follow, where Carpentier and Thesz would each claim rights to the title. Instead, a legitimate controversy was stirred. Carpentier left the NWA to help launch the upstart AWA (American Wrestling Association), which then competed with the NWA for dominance in American wrestling.

Carpentier would never win another world crown, but he was a crucial player as the industry was slowly revolutionized—over the next 40 years trading in dark, smoke-filled arenas for broadcast television and later pay-per-view and cable, all of which made it a billion-dollar, international business. He was also an accomplished trainer, serving as mentor to some of wrestling’s biggest names, including André the Giant, a key player in the 1980s boom period in the WWF (World Wrestling Federation).

A mere 5’ 9 ½” tall and weighing in at 220 lbs., Carpentier would be considered a light heavyweight by current standards. But his athleticism was that of a gymnast, which promoters were eager to market as wrestling focused more on showmanship and less on legitimate grappling. Michel Brault captures this aspect of his appeal in La Lutte, where Carpentier makes a grand entrance by completing a flawless somersault dive into a pool during a workout session. He’s the only wrestler in the film who gets a title card.

Shot in Montreal’s legendary Forum, Brault’s documentary is as much about fan reaction as it is about the wrestling action. Still, it shows Carpentier at his best, with his trademark smile (and cauliflower ears!) as he greets an admiring fan on his way to the ring for a match.

On this occasion, Carpentier teamed with Dominic DeNucci to face the dreaded combination of the Fabulous Kangaroos, who, late in the bout, clasp on Carpentier a vicious clawhold.

Battling back, Carpentier pounds his opponent into a corner, and then in an amazing move—one that, 50 years later, modern stars like Shawn Michaels would claim as their own—…

…completes a clean back flip from the top rope into the ring, landing squarely on his feet. In the closing moments of the bout, Carpentier gets set….

…. and executes a mid-air somersault, landing on his hapless foe with a textbook senton back splash to earn the pinfall.

A pioneering high flyer, a Montreal institution, a trainer of the next generation and a classy entertainer who became a bankable star in an industry gaining greater exposure through various media.

A real wrestler? It’s not difficult to see why my grandmother believed it.

The first Monday Night War began on September 4, 1995, when rival company World Championship Wrestling (WCW), having acquired the sport’s biggest draw, Hulk Hogan, launched the live show Monday Nitro on TNT.  For the first time in television history, two companies ran pay-per-view quality programming head-to-head every week at 9pm. Underwritten by Ted Turner, WCW aggressively challenged WWE’s flagship program Raw on USA (and then Spike).  WCW used the fact that Raw aired ‘live’ only once a month to gain an edge. WCW started airing at 8:57pm—before Raw—whereupon WCW president Eric Bischoff would reveal Raw’s results for that night, reminding viewers that WWE was ‘taped’ while Nitro was fresh and new and anything could happen.  Nitro defeated Raw for 84 consecutive weeks in cable ratings in 1996-8.

While WCW led during a crucial phase of this war, direct competition eventually drove up pay-per-view buyrates and television ratings for both leagues, and the quality of matches and angles was at an all-time high.  But it didn’t last.  In 2001, WCW, mired in financial woes and managerial incompetence, closed its doors and sold its assets to WWE, thus giving McMahon a monopoly over the market.  Since then, many have hoped that a new rival would emerge.

Total Nonstop Action (TNA) may be as just that.  Since TNA owner Dixie Carter hired Hulk Hogan to run creative operations in October 2009, the Nashville-based firm has been preparing for battle.  Recently, it has declared a second Monday Night War, and last Monday, March 8, TNA’s Impact aired on Spike head-to-head with Raw on USA.

But what are the prospects for this second Monday Night War?

Crucial to the enthusiasm that fans felt during the Monday Night Wars was pressing the ‘recall’ button on the remote, and watching WCW and WWE react to one another’s programming on the fly.  A nimble channel-flipping viewer emerged for wrestling in the late 1990s, and these shows appealed to this habit by creating what Jeremy Butler calls “liveness” in his recent book, Television Style.  Raw and Nitro often burst into orchestrated bedlam—as when anti-hero “Stone Cold” Steve Austin stormed the ring on a zamboni during one episode of Raw live from Detroit.  The zamboni temporarily took out the show’s audio while Austin dove over security and hammered the villainous Mr. McMahon.

Over the last decade, such eruptions of ‘live’ pandemonium have become increasingly rare.  If Impact can recreate this feel, it may be able to compete with Raw.

But if there is one constant in WWE’s history, it is the blind eye it turns to all competition until it can benefit from acknowledging it.  The problem for TNA is that WWE has no reason to do so in its case.  TNA currently lacks the mainstream visibly needed to encourage Raw viewers to channel flip.  Last Monday’s ratings seem to reflect this: Impact scored a 1.0 cable rating (1.4 million viewers) while Raw’s rating remained consistent with current trends: 3.4 (5.1 million viewers).  Unfortunately for TNA brass, Impact’s performance shows no improvement over its previous Thursday slot, suggesting that the show simply drew its committed viewers.

If the Monday Night Wars are to resume, TNA must recreate the ‘liveness’ that Raw shows only intermittently these days, and draw away enough viewers so that WWE is forced to break its blind eye principle, and react to TNA’s programming.

Let the die be cast!