WCW/New Japan Supershow II: Before January 4 Became a Wrestling Holiday

The opener gives the American cut exactly what it needs: motion, unfamiliar faces, and one wrestler who immediately looks like he belongs on every television screen in the world. Liger supplies the cleanest bursts of speed, while Aoyagi and Nogami keep the exchanges varied enough that the match never settles into anonymous six-man traffic. The opposing team works heavier and slower, creating a useful contrast rather than simply trying to match Liger's pace.

The fifteen-minute runtime is longer than the material strictly needs, but the finish restores the urgency. Nogami catches Hiro Saito with the dragon suplex as the match breaks open, giving the crowd a decisive ending after several stretches of controlled wrestling. C reflects a solid start with enough personality to introduce the Japanese side of the card, even if it never becomes the hidden classic the setting tempts viewers to expect.

Arn Anderson may be one of the easiest wrestlers in history to transport across borders because his logic needs almost no translation. He and Larry Zbyszko slow the match down, isolate their opponents, cheat just enough to establish control, and make every comeback feel earned. Koshinaka brings the stronger personality for the home side, while the younger Ohara spends much of the bout trying to survive veteran pressure.

The match is not explosive, but it is coherent for all twelve minutes. Anderson's spinebuster on Ohara provides the kind of clean, recognizable finish that much of the rest of the event will strangely lack. C reflects dependable professional tag wrestling elevated by Anderson's timing and structure, with enough cultural contrast to stay interesting even when the pace becomes methodical.

The family novelty is understandable, especially with Dusty Rhodes returning to a major stage beside Dustin, but the match asks sentiment to carry too much weight. Masa Saito brings credibility and physicality, Dustin supplies most of the movement, and Kim Duk has stretches where the execution never quite settles. Dusty's presence gets a reaction, yet the bout slows noticeably whenever the structure bends around him.

Nearly fifteen minutes is simply too much for the chemistry available. Dustin's bulldog on Duk finally ends a match that has already made its point several times, and the victory feels more inevitable than satisfying. D gives credit for Saito's professionalism and Dustin's effort while acknowledging that the match is a poor use of a stadium card's limited attention.

The attraction is visible before either man locks up. Vader is a terrifying heavyweight whose reputation in Japan already gives him credibility, while El Gigante is so physically enormous that simply standing across from Vader creates a photograph worth taking. Once the bell rings, however, the match has nowhere sophisticated to go. They trade clubbing offense, lean into spectacle, and quickly spill toward the floor.

A double count-out at 4:49 protects both giants and satisfies almost nobody. Vader's steam-shooting helmet after the match is more memorable than any hold or strike before it, which tells the story better than a long critique could. F reflects a curiosity that may be fun once for sheer scale but offers little as a wrestling match and no meaningful conclusion.

Luger and Chono gradually find a workable power-versus-technique rhythm. Chono attacks from the mat, searches for the STF, and forces Luger to wrestle more patiently than his usual American heavyweight formula, while Luger answers with strength and enough arrogance to make the champion feel properly unwelcome. The contrast becomes more interesting as the match progresses and the crowd begins reacting to Chono's chances.

The finish drags the score down. After Chono absorbs the Torture Rack on the floor and returns, Luger ultimately uses a low blow before securing the pin, giving a fifteen-minute championship match a cheap final note. C- reflects a respectable stylistic experiment with real intrigue in the middle, undermined by a finish that protects the champion more than it rewards the match.

Choshu and Fujinami approach the match like established rivals who do not need to impress anyone with decorative movement. The opening is deliberate, built around holds, positioning, and the expectation that one mistake will matter more than ten spectacular near falls. That seriousness suits the title-versus-title stakes, though the pace can feel almost defiantly restrained to viewers arriving from a modern stadium-show rhythm.

The closing sequence finally sharpens the picture. Choshu stacks suplexes and lariats until Fujinami stays down, adding the IWGP Heavyweight Championship to the Greatest 18 Club title in the night's most consequential result. C- reflects a match whose historical importance exceeds its immediate excitement, with credible work throughout but too little escalation before the finish.

This is the match the poster has been promising. Sting brings explosive American babyface energy, Muta brings mystery and movement, and the Steiners spend eleven minutes throwing both men around with the kind of frightening athleticism that made them feel unlike any tag team in wrestling. The opening takes time to settle, but once the pace rises every pairing has a different texture and the Tokyo Dome finally sounds as large as it looks.

The finish is confusing rather than clean: Sting covers Scott while Rick covers Muta, and the officiating sequence leaves the replay raising questions about who was legal. Even that mistake cannot erase the energy of the closing minutes. B reflects the clear best match of the WCW cut, not a classic, but a vivid crossover attraction where four stars briefly make the supershow concept feel as big as its name.