Is ITV’s revival of World of Sport Wrestling already on the ropes? After recently debuting with more than a million viewers, WOS Wrestling – the abbreviated rebrand designed, presumably, to put viewers in mind of the dominant WWE franchise – has since tailed off in the Saturday afternoon ratings, failing to keep pace with its lead-in, The Chase, and being outshone by 6pm news bulletins. Perhaps even more importantly for an art form defined by outsized characters required to generate hype and adoration, ITV’s teatime buffet of beefy dudes engaging in slaps, grapples and trash talk has failed to create much cultural heat.
On paper, this reboot must have seemed like a decent gamble. Despite the original World of Sport show being cancelled in 1988, there remains a cherished national memory of agitated grannies trying to stick big, bad Giant Haystacks with knitting needles in smoke-wreathed seaside sports halls. In recent years, there has been a grassroots revival of regional live wrestling promotions across the UK. Combining Dickie-Davis-era nostalgia with a hungry new talent pool and channelling the glitzy presentational style of WWE feels like an efficient shortcut to creating something adults and kids can enjoy: a suplex-powered Saturday night soap opera for the whole family.
Three episodes in, there is a sense that interesting pieces are in play but, frustratingly, they are failing to click (although, as with any 10-episode drama in its debut season, perhaps the storylines require a little more time to bed down). There is an excellent antagonist in the strapping, besuited form of WOS chief executive Stu Bennett – himself a veteran of the WWE – who seems personally insulted by the “clowns, jokers and professional buffoons” who do not conform to his template of buff but biddable wrestlers. This puts him in direct conflict with cheeky Scotsman Grado, the sort of roly-poly crowd favourite who prefers a totemic bumbag to maintaining a six-pack. Even with his panto posturing, Bennett’s arrogant white-collar CEO willing to cheerfully ignore rules and rig matches to advance his own agenda feels like a well-timed baddie.
The sprawling WOS roster has also found room for former Love Island contestant Adam Maxted (a preening Northern Irish hunk ready to do a pectoral flex-conga at the drop of a hat), the dazzlingly acrobatic top-rope ninja Will Ospreay and an ominously mute 36-stone masked beast called Crater, who appears to have ambled in from the set of Joel Schumacher’s neon-saturated 90s nightmare Batman and Robin. For such a seemingly throwback show, things are also surprisingly progressive: a women’s title-deciding three-way grudge match between glamazon Kay Lee Ray, cunning Bea Priestley and powerhouse Viper was given the prime headline slot in episode two.
All of the performers have honed their skills and shtick by delivering 360-degree performances in the round to baying, paying crowds across the country week in, week out, so it is a shame that their TV showcase has not yet worked out the best way to capture the chaos, clatter and rising audience mania of live wrestling. Yet, if the boilerplate punditry provided by commentators Alex Shane and SoCal Val feels a little cheesy, there are scenes when you feel compelled to provide your own instead. It is almost impossible not to shout “COME ON!” at your TV as a bushwhacked combatant begins their epically slow hands-and-knees crawl across the mat to tag in their enraged partner.
If you can tune in to its fairground gladiatorial frequency, WOS Wrestling seems capable of speaking to our times. With the UK arguably more bitterly divided than ever, there is something cathartic about a show that presents such a united front against injustice. Even those not invested in sculpted Justin Sysum’s title shot against hairy berserker Rampage for the WOS heavyweight belt would feel a great swell of outrage at the way his match ended. Midway through a punishing bout, the young challenger was foiled from re-entering the ring by a snickering evil henchman grabbing his legs. As the oblivious ref counted the hapless Sysum out of contention, ringside fans and viewers were connected by the purgative act of booing at such almighty unfairness.
Operatic communal moments such as these suggest it is still too early to count out WOS Wrestling. Besides, even those with only the vaguest notion of how wrestling traditionally parses out its storytelling beats know there is always scope for a comeback.
WOS Wrestling is on ITV on Saturdays at 5pm
