Hot Take: Raw on Netflix Era Has Become the Worst in Modern WWE History

When WWE pulled back the proverbial curtain to reveal that flagship program Raw would air on Netflix, it seemed like a bold new era in the streaming landscape that would help pro wrestling flourish. 

Instead, the early returns on the Netflix era resemble something of a bellyflop that put it right up there with the worst eras in modern WWE history. 

It’s not just a case of dashed fan expectations, either. Pro wrestling fans know to be cautiously optimistic at best, so it’s not like what onlookers expected to see was way out of bounds. For better or worse, fans are veterans at this. 

No, it’s the corporate, almost desperate, shilling-like feel for broader appeal giving fans the ick right now. 

Every single episode of Raw has some goofy, semi-relevant shots of celebrities in the front row that get television time. It’s the lite version of NBA courtside appearances now, except slimier because pro wrestling fans are well-versed in WWE’s desperate pleas for non-wrestling attention. The vast majority of them are obviously wink-nod deals with Netflix while promoting new shows, standups or whatever else. 

Look no further than this disaster of a sequence featuring Bert Kreischer and Tom Segura recently: 

Is it a long segment and the end of the world? Of course not. But it is horrendous. Pointless, too. Who sees this and wants to go watch their stand-up or podcast? How many of their fans follow them to WWE, watch this and want to watch more WWE?

While a small segment, it feels more insidious than the Vince McMahon attention grabs of past years because of the Netflix backdrop. Even if it’s not the case, fans will speculate it’s some backdoor deal for promotion. 

The whole thing suffers when zooming out a little. Look at the corporate branding splashed on everything now. Look at The Rock’s miserable on-and-off again involvement in storylines, which gives off the vibes of his using pro wrestling only when his Hollywood rep is sinking. 

And look at Travis Scott, of all people. He ruined a main event of WrestleMania and apparently nearly got involved in a tag match at an upcoming PLE. Rock’s departure and Scott’s involvement are a wicked brew that, incredibly, is playing a huge part in the dreamed-of heel turn for John Cena flopping. 

It doesn’t help that all of this new corporate feel to the product happens alongside a dramatic downturn in Triple H’s performance as head of creative. 

Chicken or egg? Are the creative decisions struggling because of suit-like involvement? Either way, Cena’s heel turn, middling PLEs that feel like episodes of Raw, hot-potating titles, especially in the women’s division, it goes on and on.

Don’t forget soaring ticket prices, yanking the run out from underneath a WrestleMania host city in the name of cash and international show after international show while fans at home can’t necessarily afford to attend shows, to name a few overarching things. 

Wildest of all? Maybe this doesn’t happen with Vince in charge. 

It’s a huge condemnation, no doubt. But right now, WWE feels like WWE Lite. It feels like a company that simply isn’t for the hardcore wrestling fans anymore. Attempts to appeal to younger audiences are valid, but not like this. And it feels like the company is fumbling its lead while AEW stunk it up, which Vince probably wouldn’t have permitted. 

The early Triple H era of WWE built its credibility on appealing to those hardcore fans and suddenly reshaping what we thought possible of storytelling in the medium. Think, the Bloodline and a host of other examples under it. The company just pointing fans upset about this to NXT isn’t acceptable, either. 

Much of the shine is gone, though, lost in a flood of yucky-feeling corporate sludge on programs that are too frequent, too long and suddenly lacking the strong booking in a way that sure doesn’t feel like a coincidence. 

WWE can fix this, but the harsh reality is that the company will first need to stumble into the realization that it isn’t working. The hardcore fans will remain, while casual audiences can only tune in to see a shirtless Bert Kreischer cackling so many times before they click something else in their watch next section. 

Way back in January, fans couldn’t have guessed that the debut episode of Raw on Netflix would be such good a sign of what’s to come. Rock walked around breaking the fourth wall while ruining established storylines and planted celebrities waved at the cameras under the hollow-feeling bright lights. Wrestling and storytelling was very much in the backseat, restrained. 

Fast forward to now, everything feels formulaic, even A.I.-like to generate as much engagement as possible. It’s a fitting one-to-one for social media as a whole, but not what pro wrestling should be. An episode of Raw shouldn’t feel like a planned pap-walk, it should feel like wrestling. It shouldn’t feel like a big commercial with brands smeared all over the place at the behest of suits. 

Right now, pro wrestling feels like it’s lost a little bit of its soul. It’s in there somewhere, but until it surfaces again amid the branded muck, fans will do the talking with attention and streaming numbers. In the meantime, finding a fitting name for this era might be a better use of attention and energy.