WWE Survivor Series 2017 Review

'Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.' This wasn't art.

Shield Three Stooges
WWE

For the best part of the last century, New York City's department store Macy's has been hosting a huge parade on the final Thursday of each November. It's both a way to mark Thanksgiving, and an extravagant, expensive advertisement for the high-end boutique, a true encapsulation of American excess and something entirely alien to those watching from abroad. The British equivalent would be mid-market emporium Marks & Spencer organising a fleet of Peppa Pig effigies to imperiously float down Oxford Street. It'd never happen.

Thirty years ago, WWE devised Survivor Series, a Thanksgiving tradition of their own very much in the same vein as the Macy's. A fabulous flotilla of brightly coloured, over-inflated characters descended upon Richfield, Ohio for three hours of their family fun to rival the parade's digestif. In the wrestling company's case, any pops were more than welcome.

As WWE gradually lost hold of their wholesome values in the late '90s, so too did they forget what made their Thanksgiving show such a celebrated event. Over time, its defining 5-on-5 elimination concept faded in prominence, occasionally given a cursory run-out, like an adult 'too old' to celebrate Christmas deigning to wear a crap jumper for the day. It was just another Sunday.

Goldberg's scarcely believable appearance on last year's edition seemed to inspire a wider sensation of nostalgia within the company. Not only would a surprisingly virile spectre of WCW's past headline the show, but proper credence would be paid to the event's fine legacy, with no fewer than three brand-warfare inspired elimination matches scheduled. The spirit of Survivor Series, true to its name, had done just that: survived.

Realising they had a good thing on their hands in de-genericising their former number two show, WWE maintained the philosophy for this year's Thanksgiving blow-off. Except this time, it was seemingly devised by Kevin Keegan, with everything that sounded amazing flung onto the card, whether it would - or even could - work or not. In true King Kev fashion, long-term plans were shelved; there was no plan. But you wanted to see it. AJ Styles vs. Brock Lesnar! Kurt Angle. Triple H! This promised the Shearer-Le Tissier-Ferdinand axis that never was.

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Editorial Team
Editorial Team

Benjamin was born in 1987, and is still not dead. He variously enjoys classical music, old-school adventure games (they're not dead), and walks on the beach (albeit short - asthma, you know). He's currently trying to compile a comprehensive history of video game music, yet denies accusations that he purposefully targets niche audiences. He's often wrong about these things.