Many WWE fans are displeased with the current Corporate Kane/Demon Kane gimmick. They shouldn’t be.
The Internet Wrestling Community (IWC) is upset. For those who follow professional wrestling enough to dip into the world of online wrestling commentary, this should come as no surprise. The IWC is perpetually aggrieved, always on the lookout for another WWE inadequacy to grouse about. One of the big craw-stickers of this autumn: the transformation of Kane’s gimmick.
First, a caveat: discussing wrestling gimmicks and story lines is always a bit of a challenge, because wrestling history is deep, convoluted, and outright silly. It’s hard to analyze the current WWE product in a way that both satisfies hardcore wrestling nerds — the IWC, reddit’s r/squaredcircle, etc. — without entirely excluding people who aren’t as well-versed in wrestling lore.
For the latter group, here’s the skinny: Kane — real name Glenn Jacobs — has for the past few years been a lackey for a group called The Authority. This role, this character, is a huge deviation from what Kane was when he premiered on the wrestling scene: a literal Hell-spawned demon with unstoppable strength. Imagine if Jason from Friday the 13th one day dropped the mask and machete and became the IT guy at your office. And imagine if everyone in the office recognized Jason, knew about his gore-drenched past, but Jason himself refused to acknowledge that part of his personal history. Hi, I’m Jason, the IT guy. What’s all this about butchering oversexed teenagers? I’m just here to make sure the network stays up and running.
This clean-cut version of Kane has been known on the Interwebz as “Corporate Kane.” Up until recently, the sobriquet was confined to wrestling nerd communities. It was a reference to how history is malleable in WWE, to how the company expects people to buy into the idea that this former monster — remember: a literal Hell-spawned demon — now attends meetings and deals with HR people.
However, Kane’s corporate lackey gimmick has partially fallen by the wayside in his feud with Seth Rollins, the company’s current champion. In the WWE’s fictional universe — in what is known as kayfabe — there are now two Kane’s, or at least one Kane with two distinct personalities. There’s the aforementioned Corporate Kane, still in his khakis and dress shoes, but there has been the return of Demon Kane, the indomitable masked monster.
In an altercation last month, Rollins destroyed the suit-and-tie-wearing Corporate Kane, causing him to be taken away in an ambulance. But the ambulance stopped before reaching the exit, smoke began to seep out from the doors, and out emerged Demon Kane in full monster regalia. If this sounds ludicrous to you, consider that in another altercation Kane, in his Demon form, dragged Rollins through the mat and into Hell. Such ridiculousness is par for the course in professional wrestling. Don’t try to understand the logic; just go with it.
In the eyes of most of the IWC, this split-character Kane is an affront to the new era of wrestling. At a time when the WWE is loaded with young talent, here’s an aging veteran not only being put in the middle of the title picture, but he’s being put there via the use of a gimmick that is horribly passé by today’s “Reality Era” standards. These days cheesy, over-the-top characters — with the exception of cult leader Bray Wyatt — are looked upon with disdain, the IWC instead preferring characters grounded in realism. It isn’t just that Kane is taking a spot that could go to a young up-and-comer; it’s that he’s taking the spot while using an anachronistic, absurd gimmick. When on a recent episode of Monday Night Raw Kane, as Corporate Kane, engaged in a fumbled “Who’s on First?” routine about his identity, you could feel the IWC’s collective eye-roll. (To be fair, that segment was far from flawlessly executed). Today’s super-nerd wrestling fans will tolerate the goofiness of professional wrestling in general, but being asked to pretend that Kane in a scary red mask is a different entity from Kane in khakis is a bridge too far.
Contrarian viewpoint time: the current split-gimmick Kane is both awesome and a breath of fresh air.
The era of cartoonish wrestling characters is long gone, and there’s something sad in that. Being a wrestling fan requires buying into a preposterous make-believe world in the first place, so what’s wrong with adding a splash of fantastical pseudo-horror to the product? When people refer to the current Reality Era, they are talking about the dissolution of kayfabe, the process of which began years and years ago. With the exception of little kids, fans now tend to be “smarks” — people “in” on the joke/unreality of wrestling. For these fans, it’s hard to grapple with dual-gimmick Kane because the gimmick requires a suspension of disbelief far beyond what this generation of fans are accustomed to. Buying that Wrestler A and Wrestler B hate each other is one thing — that’s a basic prerequisite for mining any joy out of wrestling at all — but buying that a corporate drone is part-demon, that said drone can switch back and forth between being human and being a creature from Hell? That’s a whole different beast.
There seems to be a certain smugness in the collective rejection of Corporate/Demon Kane. A joylessness, too. Fans seem to be acting as if Kane’s current gimmick is an insult to their intelligence, so they sneer as a way to position themselves “above” the dumb nature of what they’re being asked to believe. But where’s the fun in that? If you’re going to spend a few hours each week watching giant dudes throw fake punches, why can’t one of those dudes be a demon? Does such an outlandish character really ruin the current product, or is it just more hip to say that it does?
This gets at one of the most frustrating aspects of the IWC. While the IWC’s undying passion for professional wrestling is irrefutable, too often that passion is drenched in an air of superiority, in a desire to be seen as too cool for school. For those unfamiliar, imagine if fans of your favorite TV show fully believed that they were far smarter than the show’s creators, that if handed the reins they could easily create a superior product. Such arrogant posturing is irksome.
This isn’t to say that the IWC is bad, and this isn’t to say that WWE should be immune from criticism. But holy cow could the IWC due with a little bit of lightening up. There are times when fans do have good ideas and valid complaints, definitely, but there are times when fans are cynical curmudgeons simply for the sake of seeming hip. (Remember the obviously smart, charismatic kids at your high school who skipped class and avoided social events because they found such normal things tedious and beneath them? Remember how they seemed so cool because they could be popular and successful if they tried, but chose not to? Yeah, the IWC is sort of like those kids.)
Look, it’s fair to point out that the attention — TV time — being given to Kane could be better spent on a younger wrestler in need of a boost in visibility. All WWE story lines are related to one another in that the presence of a wrestler in one spot precludes another wrestler from being in that spot. Because Kane is currently feuding with Seth Rollins, the champion, that means younger wrestlers such as Dolph Ziggler, Kevin Owens, and Cesaro — to name a few IWC favorites — can’t be feuding with Seth Rollins. Kane is already a legend, an established name, a first-ballot Hall of Fame talent; battling Rollins does little to help his legacy.
While that’s a valid point in terms of the best use of WWE airtime, it doesn’t get at the other IWC complaint regarding Kane — that his current gimmick sucks. C’mon: is there really no enjoyment to be derived from Kane’s current character? It’s not even the slightest bit fun? That’s hard to believe. It’s a throwback gimmick, unabashedly silly, and considering how much wrestling fans love having their nostalgia glands tickled, you’d think that a blatantly outdated angle would be at least somewhat popular.
The IWC’s rejection of Corporate/Demon Kane doesn’t jibe with the collective love for Lucha Underground, the high-flying wrestling promotion currently between seasons. “Smart” fans love Lucha Underground, will ceaselessly proselytize about its virtues, but LU is undeniably over-the-top hammy. The in-ring action is phenomenal, but the story lines and gimmicks couldn’t be more dissimilar from the current WWE product. LU is fantastical and imaginative, unafraid of seeming silly. That’s a large part of its appeal. Watching Lucha Underground as an adult feels like time-warping back to an earlier era of wrestling fandom, an era before being a cynical smark was the cool thing to be. The characters in LU are larger than life, the plots are outlandish, and that’s precisely why it is so damn fun. Whereas WWE often feels oddly serious, LU is unapologetically cartoonish.
Demon Kane seems out of place in today’s WWE, and that’s why he’s necessary. Hardcore wrestling fans may blanch at this assertion, but: many of today’s WWE wrestlers, as talented as they are, bleed together. Because gimmicks are grounded in reality, character motivations are boringly human. Demon Kane is a great addition to the overall scene because he stands out in stark contrast to everyone else. Again, he dragged someone to Hell. That’s stupid and unrealistic, sure, but professional wrestling is pretty gosh darn unrealistic. It makes little sense to say, “I accept the unreality of professional wrestling, but I demand the characters within it be as real-seeming as possible.” It’s like loving the tackiness Red Robin and then complaining when the waitstaff sing to you on your birthday. Ugh, how dare this corny environment — one I willingly immerse myself in every week — be corny.
Kane’s current gimmick isn’t going to result in an redirection of WWE’s trajectory. It won’t lead to the return of the bygone era of outrageous gimmicks. Reality is the name of the game for 2015 and beyond. So enjoy the wacky ride while it lasts; you’re regularly scheduled program of scowling men will return shortly.