It doesn’t happen often, but not only did I manage to dive into a Netflix original fairly close to when it drops, I’m already done with the series and can write things about it in a timeframe where it’s likely that not every single TV watcher on the planet has also watched every single episode yet. But I didn’t want to write anything about it until I was finished with the series, and ultimately, I’m glad that I waited.
As a wrestling fan throughout most of my life, GLOW was one of those things that I remember its existence back in the day, when they’d manage to sneak in a sparse commercial during WWF Prime Time Wrestling broadcasts, but being the little girl-hating misogynist as a kid, I didn’t think anything of it, other than trying to remember the acronym behind the name. I never watched anything aside from the commercials, and I never sought out to seek out what kind of product they put on. I just knew, they existed. Nothing more.
When Netflix announced that they were doing such a show, I was mildly interested, because I am now an adult, capable of understanding things other than Masters of the Universe and Super Mario Bros. I’m always intrigued with the wrestling industry in general, and it didn’t hurt to build promotion of the show around Alison Brie, whom every nerdy guy in the world had a crush on while watching Community.
To be honest, in spite of my enthusiasm and anticipation of the show, GLOW was actually a little bit difficult to get into, for me. But after watching through the whole series, a part of me felt like such was constructed in a deliberate manner, as to really exaggerate the finer points of what progresses a storyline – much like how it’s done in the wrestling industry itself.
Despite the presence of Alison Brie and the side of her every once-Community fan had always been curious to see (read: spoiler-alert, you see her boobs), her character is actually kind of obnoxious and annoying at the start, but god damn does nobody get any more of a transformation. By the series’ end, Ruth Wilder is a real professional wrestler whose confidence and charisma are sexy and her unselfish willingness to do what’s best for business makes it near impossible to not fall in love with her all over again.
The show as a whole feels like a love letter to the wrestling industry, that does a great job of hovering in a comfortable space where they acknowledge the absurdities of the professional wrestling industry, poke at the extreme end of the spectrum a few times, but always return to a point where they are still telling a good explanation of how it operates, even to this day. It’s a show that can be enjoyed by smarks like me who have watched wrestling for most of their lives, or it can simply be watched by any casual viewer who just wants to see what their friends are talking about on social media, they’re that efficient at explaining the processes as the show rolls along.
Naturally, the cameos and nods to the industry are some of the biggest things that smarks look for, and it’s always entertaining to see familiar faces like John Morrison, Brodus Clay, Carlito, Alex Riley and Christopher Daniels actually getting more prominent screen time in GLOW than they ever did in their respective promotions. The naming of the gym out of respect to the Guerrero family was a good touch, and honestly aside from the metamorphosis of Alison Brie’s character, there’s nobody more entertaining as the once-Awesome Kong, Kia Stevens, playing The Welfare Queen. God damn.
Overall, GLOW was not a perfect show, with its share of dead-end plot devices and conflicts that never got resolved, but it was still an entertaining ride, and a trip through the 1980s. I have no regrets watching it, and I would recommend it to anyone who either likes/liked professional wrestling, Alison Brie, empowerment of women, or 80s cheese, among other positive attributes.
