Mexican Lucha Libre

by "Lightning" Mike Quackenbush

     Mexican lucha libre is the misunderstood cousin of American pro-wrestling. It's been my experience that other wrestlers either hate it or love it. Lucha is an art unto itself, with it's own psychology, it's own set of moves, and a cast of characters that are often difficult for pro-wrestling fans to appreciate. The history of lucha libre is deep and complex, and when introduced to an audience that understands neither the depth nor the complexity of it; that audience tends to reject it readily.

     Part of the problem is that people think that lucha libre is pro-wrestling from Mexico; and that when they watch luchadores, they think they will be watching Mexican pro-wrestlers. Not true. While pro-wrestling and lucha libre have many similar elements, and are close relatives, there is more to distinguish the two than just their country of origin. 

     Lucha libre is a form of wrestling that never strays from the familiar pairing of technico (or cientifico) against rudo. This same basic conflict, the struggle of good against evil is presented in some form in every single lucha match. The crowd favorite technicos represent characters with heroic and noble qualities, frequently based on comic books or folklore, and that formula is rarely deviated from. The rule-bending rudos symbolize many of the most negative aspects of life in Mexico, and their characters are designed to evoke the same feelings as their real life counterparts; the dishonest policeman, the drunks, the gangs, the mobsters, and so on.

     While so much of the emphasis of pro-wrestling is placed on the story behind the match, lucha libre has much of the story already built into the match itself. The matches always pit the elements of good and righteousness, the technicos; against the oppressive and villainous ways of the rudos. It's a good story, and historically, a popular one.

     I'm thinking of some examples to illustrate the difference in storytelling styles. A recent pro-wrestling feud between Scott Steiner and Dallas Page was sparked when Scott caused Page's wife Kimberly to fall and hit her head. Later, Steiner carjacked an auto with Kimberly in it, and ejected her from it at high speed. The Steiner/DDP feud was built around this premise. No such stories exist in lucha libre. Really, if they tried to tell a story like that in Mexico, I think it would flop. The fans of lucha libre will not tolerate long soap opera-esque sagas and drawn out interview segments. They want to see blindingly quick mat wrestling and suicidal high flying. The stories are ones that are best told in the context of a match, not in 60 second pre-taped vignettes. The story of the corrupt referee, or the illegal unmasking of the technico; all a take on the quintessential battle of good and evil, all told within the confines of a wrestling match.

     Lucha libre contains a lot of elements pro-wrestling does not. The most key of these differences is the anonymity of the athletes themselves.  While lucha-purists will argue that the tradition of the mask has been debased in recent years, it is still one of the most distinct characteristics of the style. No single prop is loaded with as much drama as the mask of a luchador. To wear it is to defy the opposition, to deny them your identity and to assume the traits symbolized by the mask itself, becoming larger than life. To lose it is to be forever humbled before your foe, and to be exposed as being all too human, small and vulnerable. It is almost impossible for me to find the words to accurately convey the importance of the mask to the man who dons it. The moment of unmasking is the point of highest dramatic tension in lucha libre, and it is conducted with an air of respect and dignity fitting for the instant of ultimate revelation. The face of a man will emerge from beneath the mask of a character.

     I first felt the influence of this style when I started to create one of my own. I wanted to blend the best elements of Japanese puroresu and Mexican lucha libre together, and there are many, many things I borrowed directly from lucha, in terms of pacing and sequencing. There is so much to lucha libre, and not just in a loopy 89-armdrags-and-headscissors kinda way either. The mat work is the best you'll ever see. Really, I'm not kidding. When you compare supposed pro-wrestling mat technicians like Bobby Eaton or Curt Hennig to the likes of Dos Caras or El Hijo del Santo you realize what a world of difference there is.

     Dos Caras is probably the greatest submission wrestler in lucha libre history, and one of the finest in the world. What makes Caras so great is that he is almost 60, and he can still go like he's 30. He twists guys into knots, and still finds an opening to do a tope in the middle somewhere. That's what I like about Caras; he never takes the easy road out. As the brother of lucha libre legend Mil Mascaras; he could have simply rode the coattails of his brother's fame and made a career on that alone. But Caras is a proud, hardworking luchador who gives his all in every match, defying both age and gravity. His work is smooth and flawless, honed to perfection by years on the mat with the best in the world.

     Until I first started watching Caras, my idea of submission wrestling was simple: boring. When you watch Dos Caras on the mat, the last thing you'd ever call it is boring. It's fascinating, it's hypnotic; you can't look away from the holds. When I started to put together a repertoire of unique moves for myself, I borrowed heavily from Caras' mat work.  Although it's not as evident now, my early days in the Pittsburgh indies show more of Dos Caras then just about anything else. It was around that same time that I first started studying Rey Misterio, Jr. Misterio is my other great influence from lucha libre. He and I both started wrestling at a very young age, and have suffered certain indignations on account of our size during our respective careers. I have always felt a certain kinship towards Misterio, and I have followed him since the glory days of AAA when he was one third of the Misterio/Super Calo/Winners trio. Misterio is the king (no pun intended) when it comes to innovation in high spots, and I have committed myself to the same sort of creative standards that Misterio first adhered to himself. In those days of AAA, Misterio was inventing a new move virtually every night. His popularity was quickly on the rise, and he wasn't far from his first ECW tour.

     That's when he was in his element, not tainted by the hardcore style of ECW, not watered down by WCW; still in his 55-frankensteiners-per-match mode. More remarkable than the breakneck pace at which he would execute these long strings of high risk moves is that he managed to introduce it successfully to an American audience. In many ways, he is much more important to pro-wrestling than he is to lucha libre; because he got fans to accept the style on the basis of his workmanship. He helped integrate his style into the accepted form of American cruiserweight pro-wrestling.

     Not many people "get it" when it comes to lucha libre. They often want it to be something it is not, or apply rules or expectations to it that it was never intended for. Lucha is an art just like puroresu, and just like pro-wrestling. It is a sophisticated artform, difficult and challenging to grasp for the uninitiated. But it is a style of hidden treasures, laced with and built upon a rich culture and historical legacy.