Kayfabe Cinema, Fall #2: Fake It So Real
While his later films focus on actors, acclaimed documentarian Robert Greene turns his lens on a different kind of performer: the independent professional wrestler.
Kayfabe Cinema is an ongoing feature devoted to the review and analysis of either movies about professional wrestling or featuring professional wrestlers in prominent roles. From high art like Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler to pure shlock like Santa with Muscles, the films will be evaluated both objectively as a cinephile and subjectively as a wrestling fan.
Films will be evaluated with the following rating system:
“Botch”- Misses the mark; can’t be enjoyed on any level. Just a bad movie.
“Job”- Imperfect and not quite good, but has some redeeming qualities for what it is. Performs well enough under the circumstances. A loss but not a total failure.
“Over”- Genuinely pretty good; can be enjoyed by wrestling and non-wrestling fans alike.
“Squash”- The movie “kills” it! Has strong artistic merit and is well made. A genuinely excellent film.
Fake It So Real 2011 (Robert Greene)
Connection to Wrestling: A documentary about the independent wrestling scene in Lincolnton, North Carolina
There is no saying that annoys a wrestling fan more than, “You know that’s fake, right?” To say that irks us on so many levels is an understatement. First of all, yes, we know. We watch it a helluva lot more than you. We read about it. We listen to podcasts. We watch documentaries. Some of us even train for it. It’s this condescending attitude that equates wrestling fans to children who believe that Barney is a real dinosaur and not a tantric sex expert in a foam costume. Wrestling is like Santa Claus. We might have thought it was “real” (a subjective term I will get into later) when we were kids, but are fully aware of its fictional nature as adults. Like Santa Claus, we can also appreciate the value of wrestling as fiction and what it represents to our respective cultures.
Second of all, wrestling fans do not look kindly on the word “fake”. This word implies that wrestlers are deliberately trying to fool and swindle people. Chris Solar, a wrestler featured in Robert Greene’s documentary Fake it So Real, wisely compares wrestling to theatre, its aesthetic cousin. He says that when people go to see a play, they aren’t upset that they are not watching real people on the stage. They’ve come to see a performance, not a documentary. Also, any professional wrestler will openly admit that even though the matches are staged, it always hurts. There’s nothing fake about a hospital bill for a torn groin.
Gabriel (left) and J-Prep (right) after a Millennium Wrestling Federation match
Professional wrestling is in its own way an art form. It’s storytelling and performance that provokes emotional responses, and it is heightened and choreographed to achieve such effect. Wrestling could also be an artform because many wrestlers on the independent scene are like starving artists. Routinely working for little to no money, they still commit 150 percent, risking their own bodily health for the pure love and passion for in ring theatrics. It’s like storefront theatre where a production can rehearse for months, bring in about $200 in ticket sales, play to about 30 people, and still be considered a success.
Fake it So Real is a documentary that proves that artistic outlets are not only for disgruntled MFA graduates. All the subjects in this film unanimously agree that this is their escape from the real world, a form of personal therapy, and a consistent social environment. The independent wrestling scene has the unfortunate stigma of being where washed up has-been’s go to die. For instance, there is numerous footage in other docs of Jake “The Snake” Roberts at particular drug induced low points “slumming” it at some high school gym in middle America. However, the men who frequent Millennium Wrestling Federation are not going there to die, but to jumpstart their lives.
Director Robert Greene is known for an analytical documentary style that utilizes performance to find another layer of truth of its subjects. In the films Kate Plays Christine and Bisbee ‘17, the stories of their respective subject matter are told just as much for the actors as they are through historians. They do not simply reenact a scene to relay necessary background information, but reflect on what the process means to them and how it opened their eyes to the subject matter. While the wrestlers in this film do not reenact history per se, there is plenty of reflection on their performances.
For instance, Gary “Alley Rat Pitt” Stuart discusses how he plans to develop an inventive finisher called the “Pitt of Death” to match his character’s name. “. . . what if you send them off,” Stuart dryly exclaims, “and when they’re coming back, instead of picking ‘em up [right in front of you], you pick ‘em up [from the front to your left side] and put em’ up to your shoulder. And then slam ‘em. And drop them on their back. Kinda like a reverse blackhole slam into a gator roll from the shoulder.” What is effective about Greene’s style in this scene and the rest of the film is a certain lack of bias that makes Stuart more enduring. Greene seems uninterested in mocking or disapproving of this unconventional lifestyle, but he’s hardly canonizing these men either. He captures a moment of Stuart not lecturing the audience on the aesthetic significance of his finisher, but simply explaining his process and thinking through ideas that would improve his performance.
Greene does not take an uber objective Frederick Wiseman approach necessarily, but seems interested in what Stuart has to say even if the interview is conducted in front of a wall of centerfolds. Stuart fully admits to the physical pain this activity entails, but also emphasizes that it is a necessary release and distraction from even more serious issues in his life. In just a few brief moments, Greene’s film acknowledges the serious health risks that can easily turn people off AND the life fulfillment that can easily turn people on. In this way, Fake it so Real does come close to the performance reflections of dramatic actors/actresses in his other films. These performers are not talking about why what they do is important to the world so much as why it is important to them, which is arguably all that really matters.
Gary “Alley Pitt Rat” Stuart in Fake It So Real
Like a cinematic Chris Jericho, Greene also proves to be a very effective triple threat, working as director, cinematographer, and editor. While he does not do anything flashy or stylized, he does use shots and cuts beyond pointing the camera at a talking head. The filming of the wrestling matches themselves is able to capture even more than a live experience or television taping. For instance, a steadicam pans in and out of the action, grabbing a shot of their expressive faces moments after displaying the complete motion of their signature moves. It’s easy to dismiss the sparse attendance at their event, but Greene is still able to record more than enough priceless reaction shots of the crowd, skillfully integrated throughout the footage of the match itself. This verite style, mercifully free of a manipulative score, captures the emotion in the room; not so much like the roar of a sold out amphitheater, but the zeal of a family playing an intense game of charades. In addition, Greene’s skills as an editor help increase emotion. He even uses montage, the hallmark of so many fight training sequences in 80’s action flicks, but without the bombastic histrionics of say Rocky IV. The film’s most powerful sequence follows Tommy Devinni, an average Joe who walks in off the street who wants to join. Stuart and Zane lay down the harsh reality of becoming a pro-wrestler to the 39 year old asthmatic father of seven with intermittent cuts of close ups of the talent grueling away. Plenty of close up’s of Tommy’s face reveal another dream deferred as the precautions include everything from bankruptcy to death. The film earns a big sigh of relief with a cut to Tommy’s first day of training, and another effective montage displaying him practicing a simple bump, with each successive thud sounding louder than the last. It’s moments like these that truly makes the audience question whether this is all worth it. However, that notion can easily be challenged by a quote from Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks) in A League of their Own: “If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. It’s the hard that makes it great.”
For all that Fake it So Real gets right, there are some particularly problematic moments that disappointingly move into politically incorrect territory. The wrestlers vaguely allude to homosexuality, suspecting any grappler with a less than 100 percent masculine persona could be gay. A particularly cringeworthy moment involves the promotion’s founder Jeff casually mocking the gimmick of their new babyfaced recruit as reminiscent of those “rave monkey clubs where they have gay sex.” He then goes on to suggest that Gabe’s entrance music be “It’s Raining Men.” This was almost enough for me to turn off the film then and there, but this attitude seems to be counteracted a bit when casual questions of sexual orientation are followed by “Not that it matters”, suggesting that these hyper masculine southern boys take Seinfeld-like attitudes towards homosexuality. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
MWF’s Chris Solar
These feelings become even more ambiguous when one of the promotion’s stars Chris Solar cuts a surprisingly subtle and nuanced promo at the start of the film. Solar, adorned with gold chains and feathers, states that he is “not a f**. All right, I want each and everyone of you to know. I like women, for one. Second of all, to clarify, I am not a f**. I’m not gay. I’m not bisexual, I’m not transexual. I’m not anything but straight.” Interestingly, these very volatile statements are not delivered with the usual loud aggression. Instead, Solar delivers this text mostly looking at the floor, nervously swaying, and even repeating himself. The sense of denial in this performance is unmistakable. Whether this is a performance or Chris speaking from his heart is unclear, but it feels so genuine, suggesting the complete opposite of what his words say. Could this be an actual secret he keeps masked through the guise of his character? Later in the film, he claims to be invigorated by the crowd’s chants of “Chris is gay”. It is unclear if this meant to be a form of insult or praise, but Solar loudly embraces it, even yelling it himself at the top of his lungs. He goes full circle from the denial that began the film.
However, the fact that these problems are never shoved down the audience’s throats may be a testament to Robert Greene as a documentarian. His objective approach shows that these characters are human; imperfect and even inconsistent. He decides to show them, cracks and all, but mostly importantly avoids only showing the cracks. He allows the audience to come to those decisions themselves, and if some moments are ambiguous, perhaps they are ambiguous to this motley crew of professional wrestlers themselves. One sure thing is that Fake it so Real shows that a small pond means every fish gets to know each other well, even if none of them are big.
Final Judgement: “Squash”
