The Importance of…4.27.08: Heel Authority Figures

Points of Chinterest
Quick notes on the past week in wrestling

-How fun was the King of the Ring tournament? Very unpredictable, the way it played out made sense as a cohesive story, and there were four (arguably five) good TV matches to boot. Granted, the matches were shorter than I would have liked, and there wasn’t much of a coronation (though, apparently that’s now scheduled for this coming week). Regardless, I approve on the whole. Kudos to WWE for trying something different, and doing an above average job with it.

-Senator Barack Obama fulfilled my campaign fantasy from the last half year, when I at last got to hear the line “if you smell what Barack is cooking.” The impersonator may have delivered it with more conviction, but there’s nothing quite like the real thing.

-I really like the Axe wrestling commercial. I think it’s one of their few commercials that really succeeds at being sexy, and it fits perfectly on a wrestling show. With that being said, I could have done without seeing it one or more times for each commercial break during Raw this Monday

-I’m pretty amped to be attending Backlash live tonight. It will be the first time I attend a live show in nearly four years, and the first time I ever attend a PPV show. I’m hoping for some good things.

On to our regular column…

There are different elements of professional wrestling to define different eras. The eighties were a time of larger than life characters, family friendly plotlines, and managers galore. The late 1990s had more of a focus on violent action, more than a few sex-based storylines, and wrestlers joining forces in a multitude of stables. From the early-Attitude era, up until today there has been a relatively new element to take hold, take power, and become so important to wrestling that, in just one decade it has almost become a cliché. Wrestling had long seen heel managers pull the strings to the benefit of their performers, as Bobby Heenan, Jim Cornette and company always seemed to have something brewing. Wrestling had seen heel referees, men who abused their authority to torment babyfaces, in the form of the evil Hebner twin, Danny Davis, Charlie Robinson’s alliance with Ric Flair, and others. But not until the late nineties did we see the emergency of those individuals who we now know all so well. Heel owners. Heel presidents. Heel commissioners. Heel general managers. Whatever the exact title, there’s no denying the importance of heel authority figures.

For decades, wrestling’s on screen authority figures tended to be very vanilla faces. WWF had President Jack Tunney, in a role completely devoid of personality. Gorilla Monsoon was only slightly more interesting, with his schtick about wanting to give the fans who they wanted to see. Roddy Piper didn’t do much of note with his presidency (besides that bizarre street fight with Golddust…).WCW didn’t fare much better, with stiffs like Nick Bockwinkel in control.

Eric Bischoff built a legacy in wrestling in a number of ways. One of the most interesting was how he really got the ball rolling on heel authority figures by stepping into that role himself. With the emergence of the WCW versus New World Order storyline, Bischoff began to emerge as a figure of clout, on screen, for the first time. And what a fun concept it was, when Bischoff joined the bad guys, presenting the image that the NWO really did have all the power—the world title, the top stars and even the guy running the company. In taking on this role, Bischoff cornered the smartass dick heel market. He was the nerdy kid who got some authority, and decided to be an asshole to everyone who ever picked on him. The guy played the role to a tee, and earned plenty of heat for it.

When a concept catches fire in wrestling, it’s going to get reproduced. Enter Mr. McMahon. Not Vince McMahon—the likeable announcer and behind the scenes owner. Mr. McMahon—Satan incarnate. You see, one of the shortcomings of Bischoff as a heel authority figure was that, despite his power, you got the feeling everyone resented him, but no one really feared him. McMahon’s authority was not in question. Maybe it was the booming voice. Maybe it was the Herculean physique. Maybe it was the infamous power walk. Regardless, McMahon didn’t come across as a nerd, but rather as someone you really didn’t want to mess with. He was the high school principal who teachers sent you to when you were really in deep sh*t. He was an intimidator. But then, for every such principal, you have a few truly tough kids who challenge him. What would the Breakfast Club have been without John Bender? Such was the role of Stone Cold Steve Austin. Following in his footsteps were The Rock, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Bobby Lashley, and others—individuals too bold to be intimidated, too determined to let the boss shut them down. The fact that McMahon has been so important has as much to do with his own merits as it does with the great work of whoever he was feuding with. In turn, McMahon helped elevate a number of these stars, rightfully placing him as one of the greatest heels of all time, and the man who defined the heel authority figure role.

Since Bischoff and McMahon, there have been no shortage of heels in power, from William Regal to Kurt Angle to Armando Estrada, to the punk kids who were trying to run their father’s business on The Bussey Bunch pilot. These characters have had varying levels of success—some brilliant, and some just giving bookers an excuse to stack the odds against the faces. Such is the evolution of a good concept—it’ll get reproduced and tweaked—a few times elevated, usually devalued for the overexposure.

An interesting spin on the heel authority figure is playing out today on Smackdown, where Vickie Guerrero has the GM spot. She’s one of the few women to have filled this role. In fact, the only other woman I can think of in this spot was Stephanie McMahon. The problem with Steph’s reign was that it was so firmly tied to her father as the owner, and her husband as world champion, that you knew she didn’t have much in the way of independent power. Guerrero doesn’t have the McMahon stigma, but she does have her unhealthy relationship with Edge, which has sort of crippled the character. I have no problem with a heel authority figure being directly linked to a major heel competitor. It worked just fine with the Bischoff-Hogan and McMahon-Rock pairings. But the issue is, there’s no question that Edge is in complete control over this relationship, and is manipulating Guerrero every which way he can to get ahead. And because Guerrero is so tied up with Edge, the character hasn’t been particularly vile to anyone who isn’t feuding with Edge at the time. Sure, McMahon was focused on Austin, and in his Raw fun, Bischoff was focused on John Cena, and that’s fine. But aside from the main event picture, McMahon had cronies to wage war against the mid-card faces, and Bischoff was still sticking it to good guys whenever he had the chance. It’s a problem when you can watch an entire episode of Smackdown and not really know Vickie’s running things, outside of a couple vignettes or promos alongside her man. The argument in Guerrero’s defense would, I suppose, have to be that this isn’t a standard heel authority figure story-arc, and we’re venturing into new territory when Edge swerves her or, less predictably, she swerves him. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how it all plays out.

There’s something very fundamental about heel authority figures that makes them work perfectly for wrestling fans. Born out of Westerns and action movies, pro sports and machismo, there has long been a perception in American culture that the toughest guys are the ones who should wield power, and that they have to be in the right. As boys grow into men, they often realize this isn’t the case. Indeed, generations of men—many of them wrestling fans—have gone through such identity crises. I sum it up in one exchange from my high school years. I remember talking to a good friend of mine—a bigger guy, who, like myself, grew up on a healthy diet of pro wrestling. We’ll call him Bob, in this column. A girl who Bob liked rejected his advances, and, before long, wound up with this short scrawny kid—we’ll call him Ralph. Bob and I were talking about this, and he said “I just don’t get it. Why would she pick Ralph over me? I could take the guy out with just one punch.” Herein lies the paradigm shift. From a pop culture perspective, we were brought up to believe that it’s the toughest guy who deserves success, and will ultimately win out. In our real lives, we were discovering that regardless of how tough you are, your money, good looks, or fashion might score you the girl. We discovered that your education, people skills and the family you were born into could land you the higher paying jobs. We learned that there are a lot of behind the scenes politics you can play to get what you want in any area of life, regardless of how tough you are.

Connecting this all back to wrestling, you start in a world where the biggest heels are the biggest dudes—your Yokozunas, Sid Viciouses, and Zeuses. In keeping with the times, and realizing who the general public hated the most, wrestling came to embrace a different kind of heel—the guy with all the power, who you could never lay a finger on. If wrestling is a morality play, as pundits often suggest, these heel authority figures are the truest villains. The greatest moments of vindication are no longer Hogan slamming Andre, Davey Boy Smith breaking The Warlord’s full nelson, or Ric Flair outsmarting Big Van Vader. On the contrary, fans pop more for those golden moments when the boss gets his comeuppance. It’s Flair telling Bischoff he’s “a no good son of a bitch,” in front of thousands of screaming fans in North Carolina. Even better were the dozens of times Vince got his, from any of the occasions when Austin mauled him, to DX shoving his head into the Big Show’s ass, to Lashley winning the right to shave his head. These are the moments we never get in the real world, where we would at least get fired, and quite probably arrested for any actions of the sort. Hence the beauty of professional wrestling, and it’s freedom from the laws of contemporary society.

Despite emerging on the wrestling scene little more than a decade ago, heel authority figures have emerged as a true staple in the business—one that likely isn’t going anywhere, and one of the utmost importance.

That’s all for this column. Next week, we take on the importance of Secondary Titles. See you in seven.