'No Holds Barred' Makes Professional Wrestling Look Like Serious Business
A bad, bad movie that's unintentionally hilarious
When I heard Hulk Hogan died, my immediate reaction was of mild sadness. Even though he was later revealed to be a bigot, Hogan was one of my childhood heroes. I feel a bit self-conscious admitting that in a public forum. But it’s true.
The 80s were full of colorful heroes. Hulk Hogan reigned supreme. It’s only natural that eventually he’d find his way outside the ring and into a movie in which he gets inside the ring. No Holds Barred isn’t his first film. You may recall he played a pro wrestler named Thunderlips in Rocky III.1 It didn’t require much acting. Neither does No Holds Barred for that matter, but it stands as his first starring role.
No Holds Barred imagines a world where pro wrestling is real and somehow makes the sport more melodramatic than it actually is. Executive produced by Vince McMahon and Hogan himself, you’d think the film would have a clear agenda: Get people invested in the sport. Unfortunately, No Holds Barred is a low budget, low effort affair. It’s like they watched the non-sex parts of a porno and said, “Hey, this is good stuff! Let’s make a movie that feels exactly like this.”
Very appropriately-named writer Dennis Hackin created the screenplay. Hackin is the screenwriter on notable classics such as Bronco Billy and Wanda Nevada. I don’t generally dunk on creative people because just getting something done is a miracle in itself. But when something’s this bad, the jokes write themselves. Consider Hackin my unwitting co-star on this piece.
No Holds Barred is director Thomas J. Wright’s second and also last film credit. He exclusively worked on TV afterwards. I’ll be honest—I was totally prepared to razz on Wright because some of his decisions in this movie are so bizarre, it’s like he was trying to sabotage the project. Then I noticed he directed an episode of Firefly, one of my favorite things in the entire world. Though I have it on good authority that he directed the worst episode.
In the film, Hulk Hogan plays the world’s greatest wrestler, a bald-n-blonde man who tears his shirt off in the ring and has a symbiotic relationship with the crowd. He’s Hulk Hogan in all but name. The character’s actual name is Rip, which is dumb, so we’ll just refer to him as Hulk Hogan. Which brings me to our first point of inquiry.
Why isn’t the character just Hulk Hogan? Hogan isn’t a real person—it’s a wrestling stage name. In the 80s, it was also wrestling biggest brand. The only people paying to see No Holds Barred did so because of Hulk Hogan. How much better is this movie if it presents as a biography? If the audience is left wondering—wait a minute, did Hulk Hogan once really jump through the roof of a limo to fight off a gang of would-be kidnappers? That alone makes this movie 30% better, even if you change nothing else. The wrestling organization is called the World Wrestling Federation, aka the WWF. So why not Hulk Hogan?
I actually have a theory.
The movie’s antagonist is a cartoonishly evil media executive. He’s less a character than a clumsy parody of one. His only concern is TV ratings, and he goes to some extreme places in service to that goal.
Everything I just said can also be said about Vince McMahon.
I think calling the wrestling organization a generic name—world wrestling federation, but never WWF—is one thing. Putting the actual Hulk Hogan brand on a movie about a power mad media executive probably hit too close to home.
So the central conflict of this movie is… TV ratings. The corporate exec is big mad because Hulk wrestles on a different network and that network is therefore top dog.
If that idea seems ridiculous, it’s because it is. Even during wrestling’s glory years, it was never TV’s biggest draw. Wrestling’s most popular broadcast was the 1988 Main Event, in which Hulk Hogan defeated Andre the Giant for the WWF Championship. It drew a 15.2 Nielsen rating. (I’m not going to get into how the ratings are calculated and what they mean because this isn’t that kind of publication. Suffice it to say, bigger is better.) For comparison, the top 5 TV shows from 1988:2
The Cosby Show, 25.6 rating
Roseanne, 23.8
A Different World, 23.0
Cheers, 22.3
60 Minutes, 21.7
Even these are poor examples because, scripted or not, pro wrestling should really be compared to sports. Here’s the big 4 US sports from 1988, along with wrestling’s all-time greatest broadcast. In the case of a series, I used the series’ average.
Super Bowl XXII, 41.9 rating (!)
World Series (Dodgers vs Athletics), 23.9
NBA Finals (Lakers vs Pistons), 15.4
WWF’s The Main Event, 15.2
Stanley Cup: It’s basically impossible to find Nielsen ratings from this time period, but here’s something—in 1987, game 7 drew a 5.0 rating. Ain’t nobody in America watching hockey.
Being that I lived through the era and watched both wrestling and the NBA, the 1988 Main Event and the NBA Finals getting a similar Nielsen rating checks out. I personally was more invested in the NBA that year because my Pistons were playing, but otherwise wrestling would’ve won out.
All this is to say, only in the WWF’s fever dream is wrestling the most popular show on TV. That level of delusion saturates the film.
I don’t typically summarize movie plots because that’s super boring, but I’m going to make an exception in this case. Chances are you haven’t seen this movie since the 80s/90s, and probably just the once. Odds are you’ve forgotten all about it, which is just your brain’s way of protecting you.
No Holds Barred actually starts pretty strong, and it has nothing to do with the movie itself. We’re thrown right into what feels like a WWF broadcast—look, I know it’s called the WWE now, but that’s stupid; it’s forever the WWF to me—as Mean Gene Okerlund himself sits ringside to call the fight.3 My initial reaction upon rewatch was, “Holy shit! They got Mean Gene in this movie!” Which nobody has probably ever said. But Mean Gene was the voice of my childhood, alongside Kermit the Frog, Mister Rogers, and Optimus Prime. That a nostalgia murderer’s row if I’ve ever seen one.
Mean Gene’s broadcast partner is none other than Jesse “The Body” Ventura. Both men play themselves. This is literally as good as No Holds Barred gets. But even though this is the movie’s high point, it still feels like Jesse is slumming it. Just two years earlier, he was stealing scenes from Arnold Schwarzenegger in Predator. Now he’s doing bad play-by-play in one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen. His acting career never recovered.
Hulk Hogan is getting beaten pretty soundly by a generic white guy whose calling card seems to be a mascara fetish. Hulk turns the tables after he sees his brother standing ringside, I guess because Love Conquers All. Or maybe he knows his brother will never let him hear the end of it if he loses to Mascara Man. Brothers be like that.
The Evil Media Executive is absolutely livid in the wake of Hulk’s victory. Strong “I wasn’t able to perform last night” energy.4 And as long as Hulk is wrestling on the other network, that will probably remain the case. I’m choosing to believe this bit of head canon—that the media executive is struggling with a serious bout of ED and therefore will go to great lengths to get his network on top—versus the drivel about TV ratings that the film goes with.
During the exec’s rantings, he actually says, out loud, “Contracts are nothing but words.” Starting to see him through Trump-colored glasses.
Other than Mean Gene Okerlund, who we sadly never see again, my favorite part of this movie is how Hulk Hogan goes through life dressed like he’s about to get into the ring. He's a trendsetter; athleisure is all the rage today but Hulk Hogan was there 35 years ago.
Evil Media Executive summons Hulk Hogan to his penthouse office and tries to seduce him with the full weight of his checkbook. Hogan declines because he’s already committed to the other network. He's a man of honor. Sometimes. It’s complicated because the movie can’t decide who its main character is. More on this later.
The exec flies into a rage. He looks like a madman. Or maybe it’s only desperation; the ED issue is affecting his confidence. He insults Hulk Hogan several times, calling him a “jock-ass.” That’s a new one. I can practically see Dennis Hackin rubbing his hands together and cackling when he came up with that burn. Maybe he dreamed of a day when writers and men of small musculature could shame athletes for their impressive glutes. I feel like I’m missing the point of Hackin’s insult. He’s operating at a level I can’t reach.
One legitimately great moment comes out of this exchange. It may be the last good thing that happens in this movie. Hulk Hogan shoves the check into the exec’s mouth and says, “I won’t be around when this check clears.” Okay, that’s pretty clever, Dennis.
Immediately after Hogan declines the offer, he’s kidnapped by a limo driver and taken to an abandoned warehouse. I suppose the plan is to beat some sense into him? But neither the Evil Media Exec nor the goons are prepared for what happens next.
Hulk Hogan jumps through the top of the limo.
It’s a moment straight out of the early 80s TV show The Incredible Hulk, but far worse.
Growling like an angry dog, Hulk quickly dispatches the goons. He then pulls the limo driver out of the car. The dude has soiled himself, I’m guessing because he belatedly realized they tried to kidnap a guy capable of jumping through the roof of a car. This leads to the single greatest line of dialogue ever written.
Rip: <Sniffing> What’s that smell?
Driver: <Crying> Do-do-dookie.
Rip: Dookie?
Dennis Hackin was paid to write that.
We next meet the love interest, who we instantly recognize as such because this is not a subtle movie. An attractive woman has a prominent speaking role; of course the male lead wants to shag.
This unfortunate woman is played by Joan Severance. Joan was never a huge name, but she’s recognizable, and thus I wonder what she’s doing in this movie. Other than standing still while Hulk Hogan blatantly tries to stare through her skirt.5
To this point, Hogan has spent most of the movie growling or acting like a Mississippi Leg Hound. So it’s a total shock when the very next scene puts him in a crisp white suit and presents him as a refined gentleman who’s at least a little fluent in French.6 You see—he’s not an ugly, dumb brute! He only acts like that 99% of the time. Dennis Hackin must’ve been really proud of this left turn. He clearly sees Hulk Hogan an enigma inside a leotard.
The corporate exec decides to take matters into his own hands and goes to a bar where the only thing on the menu is an ass-whippin’. He’s scouting for talent, or a big idea, or both. The bar is what I imagine the Double Deuce could’ve been, and maybe should’ve been. Picture Patrick Swayze trying to clean up a place with a makeshift ring, where biting is the go-to technique and patrons regularly start brawling for no good reason other than they haven’t bitten anybody today.7
The exec gets a boner over the reckless wanton violence and thinks, finally! But also: This is exactly what Americans want to see! There’s nothing athletic or graceful about the fights. Just pure aggression. Maybe he’s not completely wrong. And because this is America, he offers $100k to whoever wins these televised matches.
Between his sheer size, ferocity, and the lethal combo of a lazy eye and unibrow, Zeus (aka Tommy Lister Jr., aka Deebo) is legitimately terrifying. He wins a series of matches against other big men, including one guy who swings an enormous hammer. The only rule in No Holds Barred is that there are no rules.
Meanwhile, Hulk Hogan is in the midst of an unsurprising yet inevitable romance with Joan Severance. These two have zero chemistry. I know she got paid to be in this movie, but I legitimately feel bad every time she’s in a scene with him.
The dichotomy between Zeus beating everyone and Hulk Hogan’s poorly conceived love connection reminds me of Superman II, the movie where Superman lets Zod take over the world because he’s too busy trying to get into Lois’ pantsuit. I guess the lesson here is that even men of principle sometimes swerve off course because they really need to hump something.
Hulk and Joan are having breakfast at a quaint diner when masked men burst in to rob the joint. How desperate do you have to be to steal from a place where the food is $2 a plate? A chance for some social commentary goes whizzing by like the pies Hulk Hogan uses to disarm the bandits. That’s right—Hulk stops a robbery by starting a food fight. Dennis Hackin was cooking!
This leads to a contrived “we have to share a hotel room” scene which, naturally, only has one bed. Now that they’re behind closed doors, which Hulk Hogan are we going to get? The horn dog or the gentleman? What if I told you Hulk engineers a divider by hanging the comforter from a makeshift clothesline? What if I told you Joan is in her underwear?
During the middle of the night, Joan awakens to the bed vigorously shaking, like one of those beds that vibrate when you put a quarter in.8 The implication is obvious: Hulk is rubbing one out with such velocity that he’s going to tear it off.
Naturally, Joan looks.
Hulk’s only exercising. Dennis! You had us going with that one.
He’s doing inverted pushups with his feet resting on the bed. The reason is unstated because screenwriter Dennis Hackin is a master of subtext. We can only surmise that Hulk Hogan was too horny and needed to vent his frustrations in a productive way.
He’s at for some time, long enough for Joan to fall asleep again. Then he jumps into bed despite the fact that he weighs 250+ lbs and this is a cheap hotel. The bed splinters, rolling Joan into his arms. Joan thinks he did it on purpose and I think she has a point. Right before he jumps into bed, Hulk peeks over the curtain to see if she’s awake, or check her out, or both. Maybe he’s smarter than we give him credit for. All that satin and growling makes us underestimate him.
The star-crossed lovers return to their normal lives. We learn Joan was actually hired by the Evil Media Executive to seduce Hulk Hogan. But Hulkamania is too pure for such ploys, brother!
Actually, Hulk was very clearly down to clown. Joan was the one resisting Hulk’s antics. For good reason, I might add. What woman would ever feel comfortable sharing a hotel room with a stranger who only hours earlier tried to x-ray vision through her clothes? But despite that—or maybe because of it?—Joan caught feelings for Hulk. He’s too nice of a guy to take advantage of. She actually says that. What kind of degenerates has she been dating? (“Johnny runs people over sometimes but he brings me flowers, what a guy.”)
This leads to a tearful confession at Hulk Hogan’s mansion. It’s all very melodramatic and juvenile, and naturally ends with tickling and some very chaste kissing. At this point, I think we have to assume Dennis Hackin was Vince McMahon’s 14-year-old nephew.
Now that he’s gotten the girl, Hulk Hogan wakes up to the real threat. What actually happens is Zeus speaks directly to him through the TV. Another metaphor, about the creeping invasion of TV into our lives and how easily we can be swayed by its siren song? Who can say? But also, yes, obviously.
From there, a bunch of crazy shit happens. Bullet points, for levity and also sanity:
Zeus and the Evil Media Executive land a helicopter at Hulk Hogan’s camp for kids. Zeus throws down the gauntlet and they leave. Best guess here—the exec was trying to shame Hulk in front of his fans and transfer some of that ED energy.
Someone tries to kidnap Joan. Hulk runs him down—but not over, sadly—with his motorcycle. This is a random plot line that goes nowhere.
Hulk’s 100 lb. little brother tries to fight Zeus. He ends up in the hospital but sadly survives. I appreciate one brother looking out for another, but read the room dude.
The attack on his brother prompts Hulk to accept Zeus’ challenge. Evil Media Executive kidnaps Joan to coerce Hulk into throwing the fight.
Zeus rips a steel post off the ring and tries to stab Hulk through the chest. On national television. Think of the ratings! We don’t see his reaction but I assume Evil Media Executive briefly passed out from all the blood rushing to his penis.9
In a mirror of the beginning of the movie, Hulk draws strength from the crowd and Joan standing ringside to beat Zeus. Call it symmetry or lazy storytelling, either way Dennis Hackin was paid to write it.
The Evil Media Executive starts randomly destroying equipment, I guess to take the broadcast offline? Or maybe because he knows he’ll never have a boner again.
The exec backs into exposed wires and is electrocuted. The crowd falls silent for 5 seconds and then starts cheering. If I’m reading Dennis Hackin correctly, I believe this is commentary on class warfare, and how the lower classes feel unable to fight back against their oppressors, but happily cheer whenever an elite is brought low. That, or Dennis simply forgot about the exec once Hulk Hogan started flexing.
And that brings us to the end of the movie. 90 minutes of the craziest shit ever put to film.
In case my tone wasn’t clear, No Holds Barred is not a good movie. It’s not even a good bad movie. It’s an unbelievably dumb, trope-laden excuse of a movie that banks entirely on the Hulk Hogan name. Unfortunately, Hogan’s range is limited to the ring—where, to be fair, he excels. The only other time he’s comfortable in this movie is when he’s perving on Joan Severance.
The movie itself seems confused about what to do with Hulk, and even worse has no idea who he is. The result is an unintentionally schizophrenic main character. One moment Hulk is literally biting his thumb and growling because he’s so horny for Joan—minutes after meeting her—the next he’s all suave charm as he utters the only three words of French he knows. In more capable hands, this might’ve worked as an exploration of celebrity, as the real Hulk Hogan is lost in a haze of sex and drugs. But No Holds Barred couldn’t afford capable hands. Instead, they got Dennis Hackin and a director whose name I’ve already forgotten.
This film is too awful to have a legacy, but it did attempt to reach beyond the ring. Six months after the 1989 theatrical release, the WWF aired No Holds Barred: The Match/The Movie, a broadcast consisting of the entirety of No Holds Barred followed by a tag team bout between Hulk Hogan and Brutus Beefcake—these names, man—vs Zeus and “Macho Man” Randy Savage. Why, you might ask. A great question I don’t have the answers for.
Imagine creating a movie as bad as No Holds Barred and deciding to double down by bringing Zeus out of the movie and into the WWF. Not to fight Rip—the character Hulk Hogan played in the film—but to fight Hogan himself. Which only further underscores the point I made at the top: this movie would be so much more interesting if it purposefully blurred the lines between fiction and reality. Something like The Blair Witch Project with bodyslams.
Unfortunately, the only interesting parts of No Holds Barred are the moments of unintentional comedy, and the places we can project meaning where clearing there is none.
If you feel strangely compelled to witness this affront to storytelling yourself, No Holds Barred is streaming for free on Tubi.
Thunderlips sounds like a pornstar’s stage name, or maybe a derogatory term for a meteorologist. It definitely doesn’t sound like a wrestler. Can you imagine trying to strike fear into your opponents? “Lookout, folks—here comes Thunderlips! Boy, he’s really flapping those choppers. Jake “The Snake” Roberts better not let Thunderlips get him by the tail!”
WTF is A Different World? I have zero memory of that show. Also, I had no idea Roseanne was so big.
The fact that the dweebish guy who looks an accountant was called “Mean Gene” and nobody laughed is one of my favorite parts of wrestling. RIP, Gene.
I’m going to preemptively apologize to my mom for this, the first of many penis jokes. This piece may have a higher penis per capita than anything else I’ve ever written. Not to brag—imagine that!—just to share the facts. I never sit down intending on adding any specific jokes. It’s like a plumber blindly reaching into his toolbox and correctly identifying the right tool by feel alone. I guess in this analogy, my tools are penis-shaped? Hmm.
Sometimes I don’t even go looking for jokes! I turn around and the perfect joke is right there, waiting. They were there all along. The muse works in mysterious, often perverse ways.
Anyway: obligatory “Sorry, Mom.”
This is such a gross moment. He openly stares at her crotch for a good 5 seconds! These are the weird choices I mentioned the director makes. I’m starting to think it’s not a coincidence that his episode of Firefly takes place entirely in a brothel.
Why does giving a character a French accent (or having them speak French) instantly make them seem more intelligent, but also a teeny bit evil?
Think of all the damage Thunderlips could do in this bar. He would be king.
I’ve never actually seen one of those vibrating beds in real life, but I’ve seen them in several movies. Including Superman II, come to think of it! Man, that movie is so damn kinky.
I had no idea that a random, one-off joke at the beginning of this piece about erectile dysfunction would culminate in such glorious fashion. This must be how Michael Jordan felt after beating the Cleveland Cavaliers in 1989—a certain rightness and also inevitability.
I remember No Holds Barred when it came out, but never saw it. And up until this day I never had any interest in it. Even as someone who enjoyed wrestling during it's late 90's/early 2000's days.
I really want to see this movie now.
Ah. Mazing.