This review was commissioned by the_padraig over on my Ko-fi account.
In so many ways, FMW feels transcendent. It’s one of the rare promotions in pro wrestling that feels like a true game changer and innovator of its time in basically every aspect. From its grandiose presentation to the placing of deathmatch wrestling front and center, everything about FMW seems to work in defiance of tradition, and thus becoming genre-defining in its own right. For those reasons, I often find it a struggle to pick apart critically, as so much of what stands about it comes from how much it stands apart from the traditional conventions of pro wrestling. It certainly feels that way on first blush, but the deeper anyone probes into this artform, the more common it is to find that core elements and truths never really vanish from the very best that the medium has to offer.
And when a match features Terry Funk, one’s always bound to get some pro wrestling ass pro wrestling.
Despite a lot of the few stylistic quirks that can sometimes make these Onita matches a struggle that I’ll get into later, the heart of this match really comes down to some classic pro wrestling principles. The exploding barbed wire gimmick is really only some added drama to the old school barbed wire stipulation. The explosions add some flash, but the substance of the matter remains the same here. Onita and Funk build the match around patience, getting the most out of anticipation and pay off. These big FMW deathmatches, for all their pageantry, really center themselves primarily around suspense. The match does so well to bring us into this mood right from the go with the two wrestlers getting the absolute most out of a standard pro wrestling tie up. Here, what’s routine in any other match feels like this titanic struggle to forcibly drive one’s opponent into horrific danger. It’s so effective too, hear how the crowd gasps at any proximity to the wire, or the pop when the Funker shifts to punches and headbutts to try to knock Onita loopy enough to get into the wire.
And the explosions just rock too. Lovely stuff, these big bangs of light and smoke. Importantly, they leave their mark too. Soot staining our hero’s skin, the wire clawing into Onita’s gear and ripping it apart, small cuts weeping all over his body. It’s glorious stuff and Onita puts over every single one masterfully. Just look at the physicality he puts into it, arms outstretched and going limp on the barbed wire, almost messianic in nature.
As for the Funker, he brings his signature expressiveness to this bout. As with all Terry Funk performances, it really does depend on one’s tolerance for his more animated motions in the ring. I can certainly see an argument that his wild selling and swinging here crosses into goofy territory. I’m not quite there though, I think it stays true enough to the spirit of the occasion especially when he’s suffering just as much as Onita here–skin getting ripped up, blood coming down his face. It’s easy to buy in when the danger of the moment feels so genuine.
It’s a blessedly short match too, which is likely for the best given that even in that ten minute span there’s some unfortunate repetition here. After getting into those first few explosions, Onita runs into the problem I tend to have with him which is that his minimal approach to the ring work can occasionally feel a little lacking and it seeps into other aspects of the match too. He certainly doesn’t overdo the DDT as he would in other major FMW deathmatches, but he goes to that well at least twice here, not to mention that there are some reused ideas like Funk returning to the shinbreaker as a transition. In such a short space, it’s never quite enough to spoil anything, and it’s all simple enough that it leaves the important stuff feeling more weighty, but one can’t help but want just a little bit more in terms of the actual action.
The secret sauce to this though is that the third act is just heavenly.
The sirens start blaring to begin the final five minute countdown to the ring explosion and there’s an immediate change in tone. There’s a great shot of Funker’s face realizing in the subtlest way (especially given how vibrant Funk typically is) that honest to god danger is upon him. The flurry of punches and strikes that follows from both men feels appropriately desperate, and the big explosion bump into DDT on the Funker feels like a satisfying enough denouement to the entire affair. The suddenness of the match’s finish actually adds a lot to the fact that the true climax of the whole thing is everything after the bell.
It’s so good. The additional wailing alarm blaring through at the 1 minute mark can’t help but recall the final act of Alien. The Funker gives into bitterness, trying to choke out Onita with some wristtape after losing the match, even attacking the referee. And Onita doles out some justice–whacking Funk with the referee’s protective headgear and nailing a piledriver. Then there’s Onita’s panic, forcibly shoving the referee out of the ring, and then going to bail himself.
But then, that moment of conscience.
It’s presented so beautifully. There’s no time to linger on it, the urgency of the countdown means everything must keep moving, but the weight of it comes across still. Just this sudden humanity that covers the whole situation as Atsushi Onita, our scarred up hero, realizes that he can’t in good conscience leave a mentor and idol to die in the ring. We all know they’re not in any true danger, no one will be blown to smithereens, but in those last few seconds, Onita and Funk capture stakes that truly feel like life and death. Watch how Onita slaps the Funker, tries to drag him up out of unconsciousness, until the only thing left to do is sacrifice.
FMW actively invites the feeling of war imagery here. Those strands of barbed wire poking out through the smoke, the dust clearing to reveal Atsushi Onita cradling Terry Funk to him against the force of the blast. And then, the sickest guitars you’ve ever heard coming into soundtrack the whole thing. Holy fucking god, it’s the grandness and beauty of pro wrestling unlike anything else that has ever been done before or since. It would be enough too, that moment of sacrifice, that choice to be compassionate in the face of unbelievable violence and risk, but there’s so much to follow too. After all that, after Onita and Funk get hailed by the fans, after they stumble in the entrance way, hands clasped together in a moment of survival, there’s somehow still more.
Backstage, there’s the standard post-match comments, and there’s further emotional twists in store for us. The Funker expresses his gratitude for Onita’s heroism, but retains the bitterness of a fallen combatant. He’s mad that he lost, and after all that, won’t shake Onita’s hand in front of the press, instead demanding a rematch on his own terms.
The anguish on Onita’s face there stings like a million barbs.
I have my issues with the bell to bell, sure, but they’re such minor fees compared to the scope of what they achieve. Some of the most heart-wrenching pro wrestling both in and out of the ring one is ever bound to find. Something that surpasses artifice and structure to instead aim right for the gut. The mind has no place here among the ashes and steel, only the heart can withstand it.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? Both genre-defining in their own ways: 6/3/94 for generations of Japanese main events, and Onita/Funk for everything that deathmatch will strive for. I can not help but side with the earnestness on display here with Onita and Funk, capturing something to rival even something like Kobashi’s 6/9/95 sacrifice (which I will forever have a soft spot for). The deathmatch feels raw in every way, perhaps not entirely developed, but all the more visceral and punchy for it.
Rating: ****1/2
