This review was commissioned by Ri Ri over on my Ko-fi account.
The IWGP Heavyweight Championship isn’t on the line here, but it still feels like Shinya Hashimoto has everything to lose. For as big as 1993 was for his ascent to stardom in New Japan, there’s also the sense that he might have failed in an upward direction to the title. His famed G1 curse continued in 93, suffering a first round loss to Hiroshi Hase, and he also failed to turn back Genichiro Tenryu both on WAR’s turf and Hashimoto’s own New Japan. Then, as if to rub salt in the wound, Hashimoto’s first January 4 Tokyo Dome title defense against Masahiro Chono gets relegated to the semi-main event beneath Inoki/Tenryu–a match that Tenryu wins.
So Hashimoto has suffered both literal and spiritual losses to Tenryu over the last year, and now they battle in the main event at Sumo Hall. No titles, only pride.
Unsurprisingly given the names involved, it fucking rocks. Perhaps what comes across on this first ever watch is just how beautifully they escalate and pace out the action. These two are working with a svelte 15 minute runtime, yet it never feels like they’re rushing in. In fact, the early moments of the match are tentative and cautious, Hashimoto especially seeming to really have to take the measure of this foe that’s bested him so often. There’s a confident coolness coming off Tenryu here whereas Hash can almost visibly be seen working himself up to engage in the battle ahead. It’s a fascinating dynamic where the man coming into this wearing a title on his waist somehow feels like a challenger.
They play on those themes so well here, a dynamic established before they even touch and extrapolated upon so skillfully from there. Hashimoto makes progress–nailing a few key kicks, bringing the match to the ground on occasion–but it always gets halted by Tenryu’s mean streak. There’s always one big shot that Tenryu gets in that threatens to derail all of Hashimoto’s momentum. Note that first big chop from Tenryu at the start of the match. Then later on, that mean attack on the ribs Tenryu uses to get off the mat or the knee to the face that Tenryu uses to break up an armbar.
And when Tenryu’s in control too, the pettiness with which he lays on the punishment. Those spiteful little kicks to the face–pointed enough that you can believe one of those wayward kicks might have caused Hash’s bloody nose here–and an attitude of meanspirited daring. It feels like he’s daring Hash to try, and he’s cocky enough to believe that the big man simply won’t be able to deliver. And to be fair to Tenryu here, it really does feel like an uphill climb for the IWGP Champ.
Until it doesn’t.
It happens in a moment. Not an instant victory, but this massive feeling breakthrough that just fully changes the entire match. Tenryu gets a glancing blow in on Hash with a lariat and Hash is able to remain on his feet long enough to land this big kick to Tenryu’s gut that just drops the invader. Tenryu’s crumpled up in pain where Hash dropped him, and our hero even gets a few more kicks in to really make the point clear. From that point on, one can sense that something of a survival instinct kicks in for Tenryu. All the action is still spiteful, but there’s a lot less cockiness behind it and a lot more viciousness. Where Tenryu was initially toying with a downed competitor, the back half of the match makes it feel like he’s trying to stomp out a roaring flame.
And the final act of the match is astonishing. Just this urgent feeling slugfest with so much weight–literal and figurative–behind every single blow. Similar to Hansen and Kawada at their best, Hashimoto and Tenryu give the impression that they’re falling into every strike. They’ll take a blow and not no sell it, so much as they use the precious seconds they have on their feet to launch themselves into another big kick or punch or anything to try and knock the other man down.
And even then it’s still never easy for Hashimoto. But there’s a very real change in tone where suddenly he feels like the man in charge. He’s the man to beat. And it’s all happened before the final bell even rings.
Tenryu gets some real good bombs in here, but he feels thwarted at every turn. Even when he can get his big folding powerbomb in, he’s too battered from Hashimoto’s offense to apply the weight for the pin. Later on when he tries the same, Hashimoto kicks out of it too. And in one of my favorite moments, a blitz in the corner that Tenryu tries to turn into a DDT off the ropes gets countered into one of the most gorgeous Uranages I’ve ever seen. Hashimoto finally has an answer for everything Tenryu comes at him with and when the big man lays in his kicks and nails his jumping DDT, the result feels so natural while also so deeply fought for.
It feels the way the best wrestling always does: like the easiest and hardest thing in the world all at once.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? They happen in the same year and funnily enough share similar flaws. Which is to say, I really don’t ever love when this goes to the mat, however brief that it may be. That said, brief is the keyword. Where Misawa and Kawada linger, Tenryu and Hashimoto move past what they can’t make the most of and move into the very best stuff they can deliver. This packs just as much of a punch in half the time. Can’t beat that kind of efficiency.
Rating: ****1/2
