TV Review: Hulk Hogan’s Celebrity Championship Wrestling
Are we tired of reality-elimination shows yet? A never-ending parade of enthusiastic amateurs being judged on their ability to perform some specific and esoteric task, and one by one being removed for some seemingly arbitrary reason, until someone finally wins the thing. Everything from cooking, to singing to ice-skating has been represented on these formulaic shows, and now, as the barrel has been scraped so hard that we’re nearly through the other side, we have Hulk Hogan’s Celebrity Championship Wrestling.
As a celebrity reality show, the level of celebrity recognition mostly wavers around amount you’d expect if an American were to watch a show starring Jack Meadows from the Bill, Brian Harvey and the woman who played Marjorie in Men Behaving Badly. Three are famous for appearing in TV shows as children, two for getting naked, one for being Rocky’s brother (95% of the looks for 5% of the price), Dennis Rodman and Butterbean. Plus two so unfamous even they don’t know who they are.
Presided over by a bellowing Hulk Hogan, the celebrities spend the bulk of the show learning two or three new moves, and how to make them look like they hurt. Oh yeah: Hogan admits it’s all fake, but then comes over a bit wet by admitting that it still hurts. It looks like it does, when the 6 1/2 stone, preposterously named Trishelle Cannatella pretends to hit the 30+ stone Butterbean across the back with her arm. Even he looks embarassed to fall down.
Moves learned, it’s match time in front of an e-number fuelled crowd of kids and their bullied and roped-in parents. Contestants are arbitrarily assigned as good or bad guys, with Dennis “convicted wife beater” Rodman a fan-favourite, which Todd “Willis” Bridges a sneaky, no good cheating bad guy. The crowd have been primed on who to cheer for, and it even looks like the producers handed out signs for them – unless Butterbean has a huge under-10s following.
Hogan and his two fellow judges ham it up throughout, cheering and applauding like, er, kids at a wrestling match. To show just how seriously they’re taking it, we’re treated to cut-aways of the judges earnestly writing whenever Tabitha from Bewitched falls over instead of kicking someone. With the barrier for entry so low (seriously – 80s pop sensation Tiffany), the standard is shocking, and they’re clearly all too concerned about whether they’re going to hurt each other to go all out.
The commentary camps things up further, swerving between pointing out how Rodman made his opponent look good by falling down convincingly and feigning shock and anger that the dastardly Bridges would dare attack someone after the match!
Hogan unconvincingly describes everything as great, and then shreds everyone for being terrible. Build ‘em up and knock ‘em down, eh Hulky. In an elimination ceremony that’s exactly like the ones in every other show of this nature, someone is told they weren’t good enough (not being good enough for Hulk Hogan’s Celebrity Championship Wrestling must be a huge blow) and they go home.
There’s no deviation from the standard rehearse -> perform -> goodbye of every other show of this genre, and with the cheese factor ramped way up to compensate for the lack of ability – Screech doesn’t bodyslam anyone, he gets his head flushed down the toilet by A.C Slater, dammit – it’s a good bit of fun.
