NAIL IN THE COFFIN: THE FALL AND RISE OF VAMPIRO: The Dark Side of the Ring

The world of professional wrestling exists in a strange and unique bubble, an amalgam of pantomime spectacle and extreme sport. Often mocked as fake and sneered at by combat sports enthusiasts, and yet seen by much of the entertainment industry as meatheads who revel in clobbering every last brain cell out of each other, it seems that it is a specific kind of person who understands the magic of the ‘squared circle’.

Pro wrestling had what was arguably its heyday back in the early 90s to the turn of the century. With the rise of World Championship Wrestling (WCW) and World Wrestling Federation (WWF) competing for TV time in what became known as the Monday Night Wars, professional wrestlers became household names. What most didn’t know was the tempestuous nature of wrestling behind the scenes. Indeed many of the real-life events rivalled their on-screen counterparts and it’s telling that a large portion of those wrestlers who made their names in the 80s and 90s are no longer with us, having passed on earlier than you might expect. Wrestlers like Randy Savage, Roddy Piper, Eddie Guerrero, Brian Pillman, and Chyna all met their end prematurely. This hints at a darker side of wrestling than mainstream promoters would like you to know.

The Canadian Vampire

Although never exactly a household name in the North American market, Ian “Vampiro” Hodgkinson was a major star for Consejo Mundial de Lucha Libre (CMLL) in Mexico. His auspicious beginnings as a white-faced, dread-locked brawler – he fully admits he was never much of a wrestler –  was in direct opposition to the stylish lucha libres of Mexico, who would fly around the ring – gymnasts as much as they were wrestlers. This, coupled with his boyish good looks, made him a star in Mexico – affectionately known as the Canadian Vampire or El Vampiro Canadiense. Like many of his counterparts, however, Vampiro faced the dark side of wrestling and fame and came out the other end. With his history of drug abuse, the damage he inflicted on his body, and some of the frankly incredible situations he got himself into, it’s a wonder he survived in-tact. As his doctor baldly states to him at one point, he shouldn’t be walking. Now semi-retired, Vampiro still works in the wrestling industry, having recently contributed to the Robert Rodriguez produced Lucha Underground which ran for three seasons. It’s an incredible feat to witness him continue to put his body on the line after all he’s been through, and it’s this determination and insight into an occasionally fragile mind that makes Michael Paszt’s documentary, Nail in the Coffin: The Fall and Rise of Vampiro, so compelling.

Nail in the Coffin is many things: a love letter to Mexican wrestling, a sometimes uncomfortably intimate look into the life and mind of a faded star, and – mostly – a story about a father trying to connect with his daughter. Although he tells the story in a non-linear way, which occasionally robs it of its cohesion and might deter non-wrestling fans, Paszt keeps his subject rooted in the centre of the story at all times. Talking heads such as Chavo Guerrero Jr, Ricky Marvin, and Jeff Jarrett tell the story of the popularity of Mexican wrestling through the context of Vampiro’s unusual connection to the crowd and ascending fame. Later we move on to Vampiro‘s run in WCW, working with industry legends like Hulk Hogan and Sting, affording us a small glimpse into the electric atmosphere of those famous Monday nights.

The focal point of Nail in the Coffin is the 25th anniversary of Triplemania, a premiere event held by Lucha Libre AAA Worldwide (AAA). As the Director of Talent, Vampiro had an important role in Triplemania and through this lens, we witness the murky world of promotional booking; Vampiro confronting Jeff Jarrett, screaming through a headset, punching monitors, it’s a highly stressful environment. This is overlaid by a voice-over from Vampiro himself stating that he hates wrestling. It’s a bizarre thing to say when you’ve dedicated the largest portion of your life to it. It’s clear that the world of professional wrestling has taken its toll on Vampiro and perhaps one of the most gripping aspects of this documentary is in those moments where the veneer and glamour is stripped away and the truth is laid bare: this world asks everything from its performers, and seems to leave many of them with nothing left when the curtain falls.

A Father’s Love

This itself would make a fascinating documentary, but that’s not where Paszt’s interest lies. The emotional core of Nail in the Coffin comes from Dasha Hodgkinson, Vampiro‘s daughter. Dasha lives with her father full-time, although it’s never stated exactly why this is the case. It feels like information has been left out as to how they got here, but it puts Vampiro in a relatable situation: he is a man trying to juggle fatherhood with his job. Commuting weekly from Canada to Mexico for work, he rarely gets to see his daughter, and routinely admits that he will miss her when she moves out. She is clearly his North Star, the reason he does what he does. Frequently throughout the documentary Paszt focuses on Vampiro‘s attempts to maintain a connection with his daughter despite the distance between them. Vampiro interrupts work meetings to take a call from Dasha; he tries in vain to initiate FaceTime conversations; he takes her out for a meal with the intent of inspiring her to follow her dreams. His passion for her development is clear and while this could easily have gone the way of Darron Aronofsky‘s The Wrestler (with which Nail in the Coffin shares much DNA), the story told here is lighter and warm-hearted. Dasha loves her father as much as he loves her, although she admits he struggles to understand fatherhood, and that moving in with him during her teen years was probably difficult for both of them.

Although we see perspectives from many industry heavyweights, the star of the show is obviously Vampiro himself. He has known Michael Paszt for many years and it shows: he is comfortable with honesty, and often disarmingly self-aware. He is frank about his life and the issues he has dealt with, and still deals with, and it’s refreshing to see this told in such a straightforward way. Dasha may be the emotional core of the story, but Vampiro himself is in every other aspect. He laments about his early fame and his struggle to cope with it; he fumes about the way his WCW run was handled and his feelings on the way Jeff Jarrett treated him; his anger is clear and present when he speaks about his relationship with fellow wrestler Konnan and their real-life feud, which seems to have been very costly for Vampiro. All of this is told in stream-of-consciousness bursts from Vampiro at different points of his life. Thanks to a plethora of home-footage, we see who he was then compared to now. In fact, there’s a striking moment where he takes his daughter to the swing-park while ranting to an unseen cameraman about how much he hates fame. He is then approached by a small boy gingerly asking for an autograph and he breaks from his rant for just a second to sign the autograph and then, without missing a beat, launches right back into his rant with the boy still standing there.

The tone throughout is sombre and heavy. Vampiro speaks with regret and occasionally bitterness and Paszt reacts accordingly, layering deep, ominous synth music over much of the interviews portending something tragic about to happen. As it goes, though, Vampiro‘s ability to weather the storm means he is an industry stalwart and the most tragic thing about him is that he is very much his own worst enemy. Ultimately, the story Paszt is determined to tell is an optimistic one. A touching denouement shows Vampiro attending Dasha‘s graduation (hilariously dressed up in one of the most ostentatious jackets you’re ever likely to see at a graduation) and he is very much the picture of the doting dad, following his daughter around to take pictures of every moment, beaming with pride as she stands on the podium. The only concession to his other life is when frustrated at a vending machine that won’t take his money, he puts his fist through the buttons in view of another graduate. “I probably shouldn’t punch that” he admits to the student afterward. Some things never change.

Conclusion

Nail in the Coffin is sometimes scattershot in its storytelling, and arguably might not be as accessible to non-wrestling fans as perhaps Paszt might have wanted, but where it shines is in Vampiro‘s love for his daughter and his determination to be a good father for her. In those moments it strips away the background of professional wrestling and focuses fully on what it’s really about: a father wrestling with his own demons as he tries to do right by his daughter.  It’s a very human story and something everyone can relate to. In those moments Nail in the Coffin is a strong, documentary with a very big heart and a very bloody mouth.

Nail in the Coffin is the latest in a long line of wrestling documentaries. Which is your favourite? Let us know in the comments below!

Nail in the Coffin:  The Fall and Rise of Vampiro will be available to stream on VOD from 8th September and available on Blu-Ray from September 22nd.