WCW/New Japan Supershow III: A Great Idea Ends Just as It Starts Working

Jushin Thunder Liger and Último Dragón give the American edit exactly the opening statement it needs. Both men can fly, but the match works because they spend time establishing control on the mat before progressively widening the canvas. Dragón keeps forcing Liger to reset, Liger responds with increasingly dangerous power offense, and every escalation feels earned rather than inserted.

The finishing stretch is outstanding. Powerbombs, dives, counters, and the top-rope Frankensteiner all arrive after twenty minutes of accumulated pressure, so the title change carries weight. The Tokyo Dome audience is engaged without being frantic, and the match never confuses silence with indifference. This is the clearest reason to watch the show and a terrific snapshot of junior-heavyweight wrestling before the style became a global television staple.

Ron Simmons enters as a recognizable WCW star, which gives the match immediate context for American viewers. Tony Halme has size and presence, and the basic idea of two heavyweights testing power could have worked in a short burst. Instead, the exchanges are awkward, several transitions look hesitant, and Simmons never finds the rhythm that made his better WCW matches feel forceful.

The spinebuster finish arrives before the match can recover, which is probably a mercy. Nothing about the result is damaging to Simmons, but the bout does little to justify its place on a heavily edited pay-per-view. Coming directly after Liger and Dragón makes the drop in quality even more obvious. It is a brief curiosity rather than a meaningful part of the event.

Masa Saito and Shinya Hashimoto against Dustin Rhodes and Scott Norton creates several appealing style contrasts. Norton is already comfortable in the Japanese environment, Hashimoto can make every kick sound consequential, and Rhodes supplies the cleanest American babyface structure in the match. Saito's experience helps organize the transitions, even when the pace remains methodical.

The best moments come from the heavier exchanges, particularly when Norton and Hashimoto test one another. Rhodes eventually absorbs the decisive enzuigiri, giving the Japanese team a logical home-country win without making the WCW side look foolish. The match is solid, physical, and easy to follow, but it never accelerates enough to become memorable. On the edited broadcast, it functions more as connective tissue than destination wrestling.

The Great Muta and Masahiro Chono enter with enormous stakes: the IWGP Heavyweight Championship and NWA World Heavyweight Championship are both on the line. The early minutes are almost excessively patient, with both men working holds and positioning rather than trying to manufacture a Dome-style epic immediately. That restraint can feel cold, but it also gives the final third more room to matter.

The match improves sharply once Chono traps Muta in the STF and the possibility of a submission becomes believable. Muta survives, creates space, and eventually lands consecutive moonsaults to win the NWA title. The crowd response is respectful rather than explosive, yet the historical importance is undeniable. This is not the classic the names might promise, but it is a strong championship match with a genuinely consequential finish.

The six-man tag moves well once the wrestlers are allowed to work. El Samurai brings crisp junior-heavyweight movement, Takayuki Iizuka adds a stronger power base, and the opposing team keeps the pace active enough that the fifteen minutes rarely drag. The match is much better than the American broadcast's indifferent presentation suggests.

That presentation is the central problem. Jim Ross and Tony Schiavone step away, Eric Bischoff handles much of the commentary, and the production provides almost no character context for six wrestlers unfamiliar to most U.S. viewers. The result is competent wrestling presented like filler. Iizuka's powerbomb finish is decisive and the work is respectable, but the match exposes how little effort WCW made to translate New Japan's roster for its own audience.

Hiroshi Hase spends most of the match giving Sting a technical examination. He attacks the leg, works the neck, changes holds naturally, and forces Sting to survive stretches where simple power will not solve the problem. Sting's selling is occasionally inconsistent, but his athleticism and crowd connection keep the match from becoming clinical. Every comeback gets a response because the audience understands the contrast.

The final minutes are the strongest, with Hase stacking near-falls and Sting increasingly relying on explosive counters. Sting's top-rope splash eventually ends it, giving the American broadcast a recognizable star victory without diminishing Hase's performance. It is not an all-time Sting match, but it is smart, physical, and different from his usual WCW environment. As the edited PPV main event, it works.