Carnival Entertainment
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militant black faction called the “Nation of Domination.” Similarly, those who just
“don’t fit in” also make easy “Others.” Scott Levy, after an initial WWF run as
spoiled rich boy “Johnny Polo,” transformed himself into Raven, a nihilistic, apa
thetic product of early 1990s grunge—his finisher, the “Evenflow DDT,” recalled
an early Pearl Jam song. Mick Foley, in his first WWF incarnation, portrayed
Mankind, a leather-masked freak who had been confined to a basement since child
hood and who reputedly enjoyed pain. Although the heel “Other” may occasion
ally win, in the long run he is usually beaten by the face, who represents the “nor
mal” side of American life. Wrestling fans, like carnival goers, could therefore
encounter a menacing “Other” that was contained and ultimately defeated.
While the most common formula for wrestling before the “Attitude Era” was
for the virtuous face to use his brute force and skill to overcome the trickery of the
“Other” heel, in recent years “Others” have been pushed as faces. In an obvious, but
ephemeral, example, the Oddities, promoted as a group of sideshow freaks, enjoyed
a brief WWF run as fan-favorites. As American society has become more inclusive,
wrestling has adapted. Today, the “Other” is just as likely to be the face as the heel,
and a character like the clean-cut real-life Olympic gold medallist Kurt Angle is
entrenched as a heel, while the painted, wig-wearing, sexually ambiguous Goldust
is a beloved face—something that would have been unthinkable ten years ago.
In addition, the line between face and heel has been virtually erased. Just as,
in George Orwell’s 1984, “duckspeak” was considered a complement when di
rected towards supporting Ingsoc and an insult to those who attacked it, traditional
heel tactics—bragging, cheating, and even brutalizing women—are cheered when
performed by faces. In today’s America, according to professional wrestling, even
the good guys recognize the need to “Cheat 2 Win” (the phrase on a t-shirt worn by
current face Eddy Guererro).
Though the ideologies have obviously changed, and the presentation is far
more sophisticated, it is obvious that professional wrestling still shares a great deal
with the carnival. Promoters consciously speak in the language of the carnival—
Vince McMahon has likened WWE broadcasts to a three-ring circus featuring some
thing for everyone: athletic spectacle, scantily-clad women, comedy, and drama. If
watching Chris Benoit and Kurt Angle wrestle a sixty-minute ironman match doesn’t
do anything for you, the thinking goes, you’ll stick around for the bra-and-panties
match or the backstage skits. So everyone goes home a winner—though no real
competition has taken place.
Casino gambling: Carnival of hope and extravagance
It seems fairly undeniable that professional wrestling is a descendent of the
American carnival. The line connecting casino gambling to the carnival is less