This review was commissioned by Robert over on my Ko-fi account.
Miu Watanabe reminds me of Atlantis Jr. Likeable babyface energy? Check. A fun array of power-based attacks on the body? Check. Enough raw talent and charisma to bring my attention to a promotion I previously treated with indifference? Check.
While I haven’t done the total turnaround on TJPW that I did with CMLL earlier in the decade, the fact remains that if there’s anything that’s going to get me to switch on a show from this promotion, it’s likely to see what new way Miu Watanabe has concocted to insert her beautiful giant swing into a match. Much like Atlantis Jr. in 2022, Miu Watanabe’s sheer talent can’t help but draw me in whenever I get to see her.
In this Princess of Princess Championship match, she’s a newly minted champion having just defeated company ace Miyu Yamashita in March. Shoko Nakajima, Miu’s challenger here, represents a holdover from a previous chapter of the promotion, looking to reassert herself and take the title back. There’s no clear face/heel delineation in this match, and the two smartly choose to build a very sportsmanlike affair with steadily escalating action and stakes.
It surprised me how patiently these two approach the bout, and how effective they are at building the narrative here.
The early portion of the bout plays out as a feeling out process. Shoko attempts quickness and technique to try and flummox the champion’s raw power. What Nakajima finds instead is that Watanabe holds her own on the mat, finding her way out of holds and even outright powering right out of the challenger’s grasp. Nakajima even attempts multiple pinfall attempts but the champion isn’t so much slippery as just damn hard to pin down. All the chain wrestling looks slick, fairly snug, and tells a sensible, clear narrative. Shoko may have been a champion in her own right, but Miu’s on a roll that’s difficult to stop.
The patience Miu and Shoko demonstrate in those early moments is something of a double edged sword though. The meat of this match often struggles with feeling a little more low stakes than the competitors likely intended. A big problem here is that some of the major transition points land with a whimper instead of a bang. Of particular note is the Tiger Feint Kick Shoko nails Miu with out on the apron. There’s hardly any weight behind it, barely even grazes Miu, but it leads into an extended control for Shoko and opens up her primary target for the rest of the match.
Similarly, when Miu attempts to go after Shoko’s back throughout the match, her big comeback out of Shoko’s control is with an apron Canadian backbreaker. To be clear, Miu takes more of a bump on her knees than Shoko does at all in that moment, and it dampens what could have been a very clear and important turning point in the match. Shoko’s back is hurt! Slam her, for god’s sake!
Fortunately, when the match does settle into the heart of its narrative, it functions really well. Miu’s neck selling might be some of the most convincing and consistent I’ve seen in a long time. Shoko’s actual attack on the neck is hit and miss, but varied enough to stay interesting. To Shoko’s credit too, she gives just enough selling her own back–notably selling it after hitting a big senton–that there’s enough from her to impress individually here as well.
It’s Miu that really puts it all together and saves thing for me though. Her offense in the closing moments provides that extra level of intensity that felt sorely lacking through the rest of the bout. Between her gorgeous giant swing, earned after a struggle on the turnbuckles, some crunchy backbreakers, and some meaty clubbing blows, there’s just enough of a spike in action to close things out on the right side of greatness.
At times, this is too restrained for its own good, but in a wrestling landscape where more is more is more, that’s a flaw that reads more admirable than not.
Rating: ***¾
