Wrestlers’ Court: Less can be more when it comes to Raw

On September 9, new Monday Night RAW play-by-play man Joe Tessitore announced that WWE’s flagship show would be cut from three hours to two, at least for the balance of RAW’s run on the USA Network.

This move keeps RAW on air past the expiration of WWE’s current contract with USA and bridges to RAW’s Netflix debut in the new year.

I welcome the change. I hope it signals a trend towards shorter broadcasts as WWE shuffles its TV offerings.

WWE currently produces three hours of RAW, two hours of SmackDown and two hours of NXT each week. They also air recap shows like Main Event and WWE This Week, streaming shows like NXT LVL UP, Speed (which airs on X, though it’s still Twitter to me), Premium Live Events, and specials like the upcoming Saturday Night’s Main Event on NBC.

If you stick to the main branded shows, that’s seven hours of WWE content every week. It’s a breakneck pace for everyone from the talent who tell the stories, to the writers who feed an endless appetite for content, to the myriad folks backstage who manage the shows, and especially to the fans who feel obligated to consume as much as possible in order to stay current.

A standard network TV season runs 20-26 episodes per year. If the show is a situation comedy, that’s about 22 minutes of performance per week, allowing for eight to ten minutes of commercials. An hour-long prime time show runs 42 minutes and is generally shot over the course of a week or two. Long-running series are rare. One test for a series’ success is whether it airs enough episodes to reach syndication. A show usually enters off-network syndication when it has built up about four seasons’ worth or between 80 and 100 episodes. If each hour of RAW were treated as a standalone episode, it would take only eight months to get there.

Some compare pro wrestling to soap operas: the writers’ workload may be closer, but WWE is more demanding. Soap opera writers produce around 250 episodes per year, with five original episodes airing each week. Soap operas typically air five one-hour episodes per week. Former soap performers note how grueling filming can be, and the pressures imposed by time and budget constraints. They also tend to work on self-contained sets and have latitude to re-take their scenes. RAW and SmackDown are shot before live audiences — even when both shows originated on tape. WWE shows take place amid constant touring in different venues before different, often highly critical audiences.

It’s a lot. Not just for the people who bring us the show, but for the audience. I admit, I groan a little when WWE adds a new show or expands its existing programs.

Monday Night RAW was originally a one-hour broadcast shot at the Grand Ballroom at the Manhattan Center, a small New York City theater. The intimate setting was a step up from historic TV studio shows. RAW was engaging, it drew the crowd and the audience at home into the action. It was also prudent; a single, small venue that could be run inexpensively when business was bad. RAW differed from most TV wrestling; it boasted an edgier presentation and buttressed squash matches with higher-caliber contests between ‘name’ wrestlers. As originally conceived RAW was a tight, compelling package.

As business gradually improved, WWE faced a new challenge from a resurgent WCW. The Fed felt pressured to run live TV shows each week, to take those shows on the road to ever-bigger venues, and to expand the length of its broadcasts — all to draw eyes away from the competition. RAW and WCW’s flagship Monday Nitro grew to two and eventually three hours. They became travelling circuses filling arenas and telling ever-wilder stories. WWE and WCW produced rival secondary shows, SmackDown and Thunder, which also became multi-hour affairs. WCW eventually collapsed under its own weight, leaving a decimated independent wrestling scene and an overstuffed WWE in need of a showcase for its roster.

Right now there is too much WWE on TV. Steps that return WWE to a focused product with great matches and considered storylines would be positive. The WWE glut made sense 30 years ago in the face of a perceived existential threat and subsequent market void created by WCW’s and ECW’s failures. ECW’s case is particularly tragic. ECW was hot from a creative standpoint but lacking in basic business sense. ECW signed a national TV deal with TNN, only for that network to use the broadcast as a stalking horse for negotiations with WWE. TNN (which has constantly rebranded) eventually landed RAW and was a factor in sending ECW into bankruptcy.

Post-WCW other promotions have signed high-profile TV deals.

In 2005, TNA gained a foothold in WWE’s former TNN home — by then known as Spike TV. In 2010, TNA management made the disastrous decision to try to run its IMPACT show opposite RAW. TNA was crushed in the ratings and retreated to Thursdays within months.

In 2019, WWE sought to strangle AEW’s Dynamite in its crib by running NXT (which has long straddled the divide between third, indy-riffic brand and developmental territory) against the new promotion’s flagship. AEW won the ratings kerfuffle initially, and WWE moved its show.

AEW has since added hours of programming and a semi-forgotten secondary brand to diminishing returns. Creative challenges have shrunk AEW’s audience to the point where WWE seems unconcerned.

Today, wrestling fans benefit from a plethora of promotions with national and international reach. Smaller outfits can gain viewers if they can figure out how to leverage the internet. Mexican and Japanese companies have made inroads into the US (and Canadian) market via streaming services and partnerships: whether AEW-style Forbidden Door ventures, or through their own licensing deals like AAA scored as part of the Lucha Underground show

There is more available pro wrestling content than ever, but WWE seems not to feel the same sense of urgency to crush their competition. WWE’s ability to run multiple stadium shows each year and to leverage international events like Clash at the Castle, Bash in Berlin or Backlash: France (to say nothing of the insanely lucrative Saudi Arabian cards) make it hard to see current or future competitors as threats. WWE’s latest scare arose internally, following sexual and financial misconduct allegations against CEO Vince McMahon and other executives.

Instead of destroying other federations, WWE has recently taken to co-opting them. WWE supplies Josh Barnett’s Bloodsport promotion with relatively underexposed, shooter-adjacent talent like the Creed brothers and Shayna Baszler. It sends stars like AJ Styles, Shinsuke Nakamura, and Iyo Sky (and future star Charlie Dempsey) to Japan. I’ve already written about the extensive talent-sharing agreement between NXT and TNA Wrestlers’ Court: TNA-NXT cross-pollination is intriguing

By focusing on providing a quality product for its audience WWE leaves room for alternatives to succeed. It’s a weird business flex. In most fields, competitors vie for the biggest market share. They rarely set out to ruin other companies, although they don’t mourn their loss. Pro wrestling is different. WWE’s competitors are necessary sources for talent. WWE gutted the territories to fuel its national expansion. It ran the AWA, NWA, WCW and ECW out of business. In doing so WWE lost its best sources for new or redeveloped talent and a creative funk set in which has only recently lifted. WWE needs TNA and AEW and other smaller, healthy promotions to ensure its own success and that of pro wrestling.

A shorter RAW broadcast may mean fewer spots on the roster. WWE is also looking to trim the number of house shows it runs from 300 a year to 250 or even 200, which compounds employment concerns. According to TKO executives, WWE’s house show business is marginally profitable. It is an important way for talent to gain experience working in front of live audiences — which is essential if they’re going to get over on camera during RAW or SmackDown.

I take these concerns but think they’re overstated. WWE still runs multiple touring companies, and 200 shows still works out to roughly four WWE-branded events a week. Wrestlers who are off TV frequent these shows. Omos has largely been absent from TV for years but is featured as a ‘special attraction’ on the house show circuit. Chris Jericho once signed a contract to work house shows exclusively; I saw him compete during that run and he was a great surprise to the audience. WWE house shows also often feature talent coming from elsewhere before their official main roster debuts and serve as early tests for NXT call ups. At different points I saw the likes of Mr. Kennedy (Kennedy), Bobby Lashley, Bray Wyatt, Roman Reigns, Curtis Axel and Fandango all before they joined RAW and SmackDown. These “I was there before he hit it big” moments are a perk of fandom.

I sympathize with anyone who loses their job. I also recognize that careers in the public eye are rarely permanent. Even the most successful sitcoms and dramas end. Athletes get traded or injured or their production wanes. Movie actors join juggernaut action franchises but age out of their roles or just become too expensive. It may be sad for older stars like MVP, Shelton Benjamin and Lashley — but with more viable promotions and less WWE dominating the airwaves, they will find places to work and hopefully more appreciative bookers and audiences. AEW has proven to be a place where some former WWE stars can succeed financially and creatively.

One of the benefits of RAW’s move to Netflix will be an untethering from traditional TV timing and content requirements. Rather than slotting the RAW between lead-in and follow-up programs, Netflix subscribers access episodes separately. Subscribers watch episodes at leisure or binge a backlog of broadcasts.

Netflix plans to air commercials during RAW. Unlike my kids, who have grown up in a post-streaming world and lack the patience required for your show to come back in “two and two” I’m not bothered by advertisements. I hope that without the need to adhere to network formats WWE will hold their commercials for spots between matches. I’ve never liked RAW’s mid-action cut-aways, or the trope that the wrestler in control of the match before the break returns in dire peril. AEW’s picture-in-picture approach seemed like a great alternative, but even on a big screen the action is too small to follow.

Moving to a streaming-only service like Netflix means RAW can be built around the time Chief Creative Officer Paul ‘Triple H’ Levesque needs to advance the stories he wants to tell, rather than pressure to fill commercial airtime. Netflix shows have variable run times which suit the needs of each episode. In theory, this is great — instead of padding a RAW broadcast with silly comedy, interminable backstage skits or dull, repetitive matches, we can hope for tighter, more meaningful episodes that get talent over without getting lost in hours of junk.

That’s not to say the other stuff goes away completely. I may dislike certain characters or angles, but they likely appeal to other segments of the audience. Pro wrestling demands on-air experimentation. Performers need to try on different characters or feuds or matches to see what works. The Four Horsemen originated in an Arn Anderson ad lib. “Austin 3:16” was an offhand line that saved Steve Austin’s career. The Shockmaster broke down walls on live TV long before RAW’s impending move. You get the idea.

I welcome a shorter RAW and hope it sticks. In wrestling, entertainment and life one should always leave one’s audience wanting more. I look forward to tighter RAW episodes and an extra hour to pursue other interests, whether other wrestling shows, reading a book or writing long-winded columns.

Or getting to the ‘chill’ part of ‘Netflix and Chill’.

TOP PHOTO: Howard Finkel in the ring on the first Monday Night Raw in 1993 at the Manhattan Center. 

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• Previous Wrestlers’ Court columns by Jonathan Schwartz