Like most successful organisations, WWE exists within quite a large one. As a monolithic multimedia giant in 2018, it can be both a publicly traded company and publicly pollutant force. It can somehow play host to atmospheres of both altruism and ancient subjugation. The formers inform and mask the latters. Video packages, controlled social media strategies and the careful manipulation of their loyalist supporters step in to suppress discussion of archaic staff welfare agreements, shady Saudi Arabian business deals and cynical and monopolistic market dominance.
The creative process is - at this point at least - a relatively small part of the business. In truth, the actual end product is too. WWE's television output hasn't been without merit, but Monday Night Raw in particular has fostered what must objectively be considered some of Sports Entertainment's lowest moments since stretching itself to three hours back in 2012. The decision wasn't made to chase further critical acclaim then though; it was to leverage the company's entire future on a few dull years. And it worked.
Square eyes on a square head, trained almost exclusively to Pro Wrestling, Sunderland AFC & Paul Rudd films. Responsible for 'Shocking Plans You Won't Believe Actually Happened', some of the words in our amazing Wrestling bookazines (both available at shop.whatculture.com), and probably every website list you read that praised Kevin Nash.