Wrestlers

In contrast to the cartoon machismo of the world it’s set within, Wrestlers teems with authentic emotion and introspection.

Wrestling might be choreographed, but in his latest docuseries, Cheer and Last Chance U director Greg Whiteley proves just how real the emotions that form its foundation really are.

"Wrestlers" probably didn't need to be seven episodes long, although what we ultimately feel about certain characters—Mr. Jones, for instance—requires enough narrative content to make a journey from enmity to empathy. And whereas the technical aspects of an OVW production—and the glitches—are all reflective of contemporary pop culture, the not-quite-bigtime wrestling we see is also evocative of a bygone era in which Americans took their entertainment where they found it.

While its namesake performers are technically professionals, “Wrestlers” retains the DNA of what made Whiteley’s prior portraits of amateurs so compelling.

For all its manufactured conflict — the schism between Snow and Jones, the unprecedented summer tour — it’s still a largely unvarnished glimpse into a place both wonderful and strange.