Insurrextion 2000: London Gets a Real WWF Pay-Per-View Instead of a Souvenir

The opener understands exactly what the building wants. Scotty 2 Hotty and Grand Master Sexay bring the audience-friendly movement and personality, while Dean Malenko and Perry Saturn give the match enough wrestling structure that it never becomes seven minutes of entrance-act comedy. The Radicalz control the center, Too Cool accelerate the pace when they have openings, and the crowd is ready for every familiar beat. It is not designed as a technical showcase, but it is a very effective way to begin a UK card because the energy arrives immediately and never needs to be manufactured.

This is almost entirely a size-and-presence match. Kane is over enough that the crowd reacts to the entrance and power spots, while Bull Buchanan is athletic enough for his size to make the brief exchange visually credible. The problem is duration. Three and a half minutes provides almost no room for escalation, so the match reaches the finish before there is a meaningful shift in momentum. As a touring-card attraction it is fine. As pay-per-view wrestling, it is disposable.

Road Dogg and Bradshaw are both much better suited to tag environments than to a six-minute singles match built around their specific limitations. Bradshaw provides convincing impact, Road Dogg works the crowd and the physicality is believable, but the bout never develops a larger idea. It feels like a television match placed on the pay-per-view because the roster needed another pairing. The London audience keeps it from becoming dead air, yet there is little reason to revisit it once the result is known.

This is not really a wrestling match and barely functions as competitive entertainment. Mae Young and The Fabulous Moolah provide the surrounding comedy, while The Kat and Terri are asked to turn an arm-wrestling contest into an Attitude Era personality segment. The entire thing lasts thirty-four seconds because there is no competitive structure to explore. Its only value is as a historical artifact showing how the division was presented at the time.

This is a collision of acts rather than a carefully built tag match, and that is mostly fine. Rikishi and Big Show provide enormous babyface size, the Dudleys know how to bump and create movement around larger opponents, and the crowd is happy to see the familiar characters interact. Seven minutes prevents the match from becoming repetitive. It never reaches the intensity of the Dudleys' best tag work, but the structure is clean enough to keep the card moving and the finish arrives before the novelty wears thin.

The names promise much more than the clock allows. Angle and Benoit immediately wrestle at a sharper technical pace than most of the card, but six minutes forces them to compress everything into setup, a few exchanges and the finish. That limitation is especially frustrating because their chemistry is obvious. Every counter suggests a longer match that would eventually become part of both men's career identity. Contemporary accounts note Benoit's eye issue as a reason the bout stayed short, which makes the restraint understandable without making the final product complete.

The booking is more important than the wrestling. British Bulldog winning a championship in London is an easy local payoff, and Crash Holly's Hardcore title persona is flexible enough that a three-minute loss does not damage him. The match uses the loose rules and quick pace to reach the title change without pretending to be a serious championship epic. The crowd gets the moment it wants, but the bout is so short that the title switch is almost the entire review.

This is where the card begins to feel like a real pay-per-view. Edge and Christian are settling into the slippery champion role, while Matt and Jeff Hardy can create instant urgency simply by increasing the speed. The teams already understand one another's timing, so the nearfalls and counters feel like extensions of an ongoing rivalry rather than isolated spots. The disqualification finish keeps the titles on the champions without giving the audience the clean payoff it wants, but almost thirteen minutes of sharp tag wrestling earns enough goodwill that the ending is frustrating rather than fatal.

The best sustained wrestling on the show comes from two men who can make character and technique occupy the same space. Guerrero is already fully comfortable as the slippery champion with Chyna beside him, while Jericho's aggression gives the match a reason to accelerate beyond a neutral exhibition. The counters are crisp, the crowd understands every momentum shift and neither wrestler wastes time pretending the European Championship needs a thirty-minute epic. Nearly thirteen minutes is enough to build, peak and finish without filler.

The main event is carried by star power and atmosphere more than technical depth. The Rock is newly champion and receives the kind of reaction that makes every comeback feel larger. Triple H provides the serious championship threat, while Shane McMahon functions as the spoiler who lets the match lean into Regime chaos without becoming another straight Backlash rematch. Fifteen minutes keeps the overbooking relatively controlled. The result is satisfying because The Rock retains and the audience receives its celebration, but the match never reaches the emotional intensity or bell-to-bell quality of the Backlash main event six days earlier.