Moral Ambiguity In Professional Wrestling
Roman Reigns of WWE
Is amoral art immoral?
That’s the question I keep asking myself as I consider the implications of a professional wrestling that no longer asserts good is good and bad is bad, but rather that we live in a morally ambiguous world where people simply make choices and then live with the consequences. Amorality is being neither moral nor immoral, it is showing no concern in the rightness or wrongness of something. In art, that means the author doesn’t pass judgment on the characters, but merely presents them as they are, allowing the audience to judge. Such is the moral philosophy of many modern dramas and comedies in this Golden Age of Television. From Tony Soprano to Walter White to Don Draper to Daenerys Targaryen to Barry Berkman to Kendall Roy to many more, the amoral perspective these television shows have on their leads sidesteps the traditional moral binary of good versus evil for a more fluid interpretation of the universe.
Pro-wrestling has been slow to evolve, holding to a mostly binary moral philosophy even if its characterizations have changed. For example, “good guy” versus “bad guy” becomes good guy with anti-heroic tendencies versus corrupt capitalist system embodied in a dictatorial CEO. Even with those more complex characterizations, the conflict still boils down to someone being essentially good and their opponent being essentially bad. A hero, a villain. The story asserts that one is right and the other is wrong, guiding you, the viewer, towards cheering one and booing the other. Pro-wrestling has been slow to move beyond this dynamic because it’s proven so effective. It’s an eternally profitable narrative device. It’s so effective, in fact, that it’s hard to imagine a pro-wrestling that mirrors the moral ambiguity of modern prestige television. Pro-wrestling thrives on narrative binaries so that it might elicit strong, unified reactions from the audience; cheer/boo. Might muddying the waters of characters’ moral alignments dilute the intensity of audience reactions? Possibly. But pro-wrestling audiences have demonstrated an ability to pick their favorites regardless of a character’s moral alignment and generate loud reactions.
Take a recent example in AEW’s current World Champion, MJF.
In 2022, MJF, a consistently vile human being, flirted with appearing sympathetic. He would open up, in deeply emotional promos, about his youthful admiration of his wrestling idols and how they’d let him down. His story, it would seem, was not far removed from that of the average fan. Experiencing disillusionment is something every fan goes through at some point in their fandom. MJF, whilst retaining his status as heel, managed to elicit sympathy and understanding during feuds with CM Punk and Jon Moxley. He did this by articulating his character’s past, a time when he was more innocent and not beaten down (and shaped) by disappointment. His speeches about CM Punk and William Regal were stirring. One, in particular, prompted CM Punk to hurry to the ring and ask MJF, his bitter rival, “Is that true?” as if, if it were, everything would be different.
MJF would eventually be written off television for a number of months, only to return to a hero’s reception. He played into this response from the crowd, still a heel on paper but beloved simply because he was so good (and so funny) at his job. The crowd was invested in MJF’s success, proud that he’d successfully renegotiated his deal with Tony Khan, now making “stupid” amounts of money. MJF would eventually reveal himself to be the same old villain, entirely disinterested in cheers from the crowd, but those were an interesting few months where he appeared to be both heel and face simultaneously. During that time, the audience was encouraged to feel however they wanted to feel about MJF. He could be a nefarious bastard who also had a relatable past. He could be a backstabbing heel who also had dreams and desires. Does this sound familiar?
Almost every successful modern television show explores the moral ambiguity of its lead character or its ensemble. Without passing judgment, it simply examines who someone is and what makes them choose the things they choose. The intrigue is in watching how and why they do what they do, not necessarily in seeing them succeed or get comeuppance. MJF has since reverted back to a straightforward heel, something he’s equally good at, but for those few months he demonstrated what it might mean for a pro-wrestling character to be free from the moral binary. He didn’t tease a sympathetic history to obfuscate his dark intentions and gain a psychological advantage (though that was an unavoidable side effect). He told true stories about his past, stories that are now a part of his canon, to articulate his rationale for hating his opponents.
MJF’s feuds with CM Punk and Jon Moxley represent high points in professional wrestling storytelling because they are complex and layered. Is it irresponsible to paint someone objectionable like MJF as sympathetic, though?
This brings me back to my original question: is amoral art immoral? Surely fans are free to boo and cheer whoever they want for whatever reason they want. But when pro-wrestling actively complicates the moral alignment of its universe does it send a destructive message to the audience? I remain unsure, all while enjoying a more complex professional wrestling. If you believe it’s fine for a character like MJF to generate sympathy then you likely also think an audience is smart enough to distinguish between reality and fiction, that a fan isn’t going to succumb to the mistaken belief that MJF is “one of the good guys”.
I’d argue that the audience is not smart enough to distinguish between reality and fiction, and that the aim of modern professional wrestling is to break down that distinction as much as possible.
Consider the fact that fans cheered MJF for getting more money from Tony Khan. It’s not as though MJF is going to give any of that money away to the fans. Fans are just happy for someone they like getting something generally regarded as good. Put another way, fans are easily swayed by any skilled manipulator. How else can you explain how MJF goes from being booed at the start of a promo to being cheered at the end of it? The only way in which modern fans are more sophisticated than past ones is in appreciating a good performance as a good performance. An heel who’s good at being a heel is just as likely to get cheered as a face who’s good at being a face.
Even so, I believe pro-wrestling fans can be worked into thinking and feeling almost anything, even that a heel is a good guy. That fact makes me uncomfortable as pro-wrestling attempts to dabble in more complex characterizations. Yes, I want the medium to evolve and you can’t make an omelette without cracking some eggs, but I wonder if professional wrestling storytelling, on the whole, is sophisticated enough to properly handle a character like MJF. So many of pro-wrestling’s storytelling devices are antiquated. Backstage segments, backstage interviews, sit-down interviews, promo-trains, etc. At what point do these other aspects of professional wrestling need to be reconsidered? As morality (or lack thereof) becomes more complex, so too must the narrative mechanisms at pro-wrestling’s disposal.
Let’s consider WWE’s best story at present, The Bloodline. Roman Reigns is the patriarch of this group, composed mostly of his real-life family members. He has ruled through emotional manipulation, pitting members against one another, threatening those who do not acknowledge him. He is the WWE Universal Heavyweight Champion, standing atop WWE’s mountain. He’s confident, charismatic, athletic, funny, and imposing. Technically, he’s a heel, because he doesn’t always fight fair and he doesn’t always win clean. But there are objectively good qualities to this character. He’s family-oriented, he’s an effective leader, and he backs up what he says.
In his orbit are similarly complicated characters Jimmy and Jey Uso. Jimmy is the reliable yet easygoing side-kick where Jey is the fiercely loyal, emotionally erratic hothead. Solo Sikoa balances The Bloodline out with a one-dimensional role as enforcer. Then there’s Sami Zayn who, after months trying to become a member of The Bloodline, finally found acceptance in the loving embrace of Roman Reigns.
Fans are deeply invested in the emotional inner-workings of this group. Each character plays a pivotal role in the delicate balance of egos. It’s a scenario ripped right out of any HBO drama. Even Roman Reigns’ entrance music is evocative of Succession’s.
The elements at work in The Bloodline are combustable, and decidedly non-binary. At any moment one might be sincerely laughing at The Bloodline, but then terrified for a character’s well being the next. No one character is evil. No one character is good. Each character is, very simply, flawed. Their flaws are what make them interesting, and their flaws are the center around which the story revolves.
Is WWE capable of telling this story with the quality it naturally demands?
Yes, and no.
Yes, because it has successfully told the story with the tools and philosophies it’s always used, but when it comes to backstage segments The Bloodline looks weirdly out of place. The substandard visual quality and lack of depth betrays the seriousness of the subject matter. I’m not arguing such segments be shot and lit like The Godfather, but that the blocking, lighting, and steadiness (or lack thereof) of the camera be reconsidered. The story demands a more naturalistic approach to the visuals, conveying realism rather than these symmetrically blocked, static shots of nondescript locker rooms.
These are the sorts of aesthetic choices promotions should consider as they venture into the realm of moral ambiguity. How does the morality of a fictional universe inform the look of that fictional universe? Endeavoring to answer that question, allowing groups like The Bloodline to serve as a guide, will be an interesting process.
But let’s get back to my original question now that we’ve had a look at two morally ambiguous acts. Is art with an amoral perspective inherently immoral because of the harm it might do by depicting bad acts as acceptable or even good?
No. Art that avoids passing moral judgment is not inherently immoral. It’s just exploring the human condition in its own way. Some might argue such art is more affective because it’s not strong-arming the audience in one particular direction but allowing them to engage with the art how they see fit. This art, while exploring humanity in an unbiased way, runs the risk of being misinterpreted, though. And that’s why, sometimes, in art, it’s good to be explicit.
For example, should the Bloodline ever turn on Sami Zayn, that would be the perfect moment to reassert Roman Reigns as a vicious heel. Then, all those fond feelings resultant from all those meaningful embraces become a kind of betrayal. Sami’s heart would break and so we, the audience who yearned for the same acceptance Sami yearned for, would similarly break. And perhaps this points us in the direction moral ambiguity can go in professional wrestling.
Pro-wrestling fans can be encouraged to boo and cheer whoever they want until specific inflection points in a story - betrayals, attacks, wins, and loses. At such points the narrative can reaffirm a moral binary so as to effectively move the story into the next phase, as has happened with MJF.
Regardless of how it chooses to explore moral ambiguity, it behooves professional wrestling to evolve with the times. There will be stops and starts, stumbles and successes, but it should, at the very least, try. In that effort may exist one of the best pro-wrestling angles of all time and whether they cheer or boo, wrestling fans will be all the better for it.
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