WrestleMania 33 (2017): A Great First Half Trapped Inside an Exhausting Night

AJ Styles and Shane McMahon overcome the skepticism surrounding the pairing by building a real wrestling match before reaching the expected stunts. Shane's early grappling and striking are treated seriously enough to make Styles adjust, while Styles controls the pace without making the commissioner look implausibly equal. The referee bump gives the match permission to use the trash-can Coast-to-Coast and announce-table dive without abandoning the advertised singles-match structure. Shane's missed Shooting Star Press is the final escalation, and Styles answers with the Phenomenal Forearm for the correct clean finish. It is a little long, but the match has progression, spectacle, and a stronger competitive spine than the matchup promised.

Kevin Owens and Chris Jericho have enough shared history that the best parts of the match are counters rather than surprises. Owens steals the Walls of Jericho, Jericho knows the Pop-Up Powerbomb is coming, and the famous one-finger rope break turns a tiny movement into the night's smartest near fall. The work is physical and coherent, but the match never reaches the emotional level promised by the Festival of Friendship build. Its second-slot placement also makes a deeply personal feud feel smaller than it should. Owens eventually uses the apron powerbomb to win the United States Championship, giving the story a decisive ending even if the match itself stops short of greatness.

The Raw women's elimination match has good ideas but never receives enough time to let them breathe. Nia Jax is established as the immediate physical problem, so Bayley, Charlotte Flair, and Sasha Banks unite to eliminate her before turning on one another. Charlotte's corkscrew moonsault is the athletic highlight, and the exposed-turnbuckle elimination of Banks gives the match a useful layer of opportunism. The final Bayley-Charlotte stretch feels rushed, however, and Bayley's elbow-drop finish arrives before the audience has fully shifted into a one-on-one championship climax. Retaining the title is sensible, but WrestleMania would have been a stronger place for Bayley's original coronation than the Raw where it actually happened.

The match is forever defined by the moment the Hardy Boyz music hits, and that is not a criticism. WrestleMania is built for reactions like this: surprise recognition, a stadium erupting, and two returning stars immediately placed into a championship ladder match. Once the bell rings, the four teams keep the pace high and use the ladders as connective tissue rather than stopping for elaborate construction. Jeff Hardy's Swanton from the tall ladder through Cesaro and Sheamus supplies the signature risk, while Matt climbs for the belts. The wrestling is chaotic but easy to follow because the return gives every spot a clear destination. As a WrestleMania moment and match together, it is one of the night's biggest successes.

The mixed tag is built less as a competitive match than as the final scene before John Cena proposes to Nikki Bella. The Miz does most of the useful wrestling and character work, delaying Cena's involvement while the crowd enjoys booing the supposed hero and cheering the antagonist. Maryse's limited physical involvement means the match can never develop into a balanced tag contest, and once Nikki receives the hot tag the finish comes quickly. Cena and Nikki hit synchronized offense and score the double pin before the proposal becomes the real segment. As celebrity-style WrestleMania storytelling it is functional; as wrestling, the nine-minute match is mostly transportation to the post-match moment.

Seth Rollins and Triple H have a clear story: Triple H attacks the recently injured knee and Rollins must decide how much damage he can absorb to finish the feud. The opening work follows that idea well, especially when Rollins' attempted power moves collapse because the leg cannot support him. The problem is duration. At more than twenty-five minutes, the match repeatedly reaches a natural escalation point and then adds another layer of weapons, counters, or Stephanie McMahon interference. The Phoenix Splash is an excellent late near fall, and Stephanie crashing through the table gives the crowd the expected catharsis. Rollins winning with a Pedigree is fitting, but a tighter version would have carried more urgency.

Randy Orton and Bray Wyatt enter with a story that should feel personal, then spend ten minutes proving that presentation cannot manufacture chemistry. The projected maggots, worms, and roaches on the ring canvas are meant to visualize Wyatt's mind games, but they interrupt rather than intensify the match. Neither wrestler establishes sustained momentum, the supernatural imagery has no meaningful rules, and the championship feels secondary to the gimmick. Wyatt survives an RKO and lands Sister Abigail, yet Orton simply returns with another RKO and wins the title. The result undercuts a character WWE had spent months rebuilding, and the match never develops enough physical drama to compensate. It is one of the show's clearest failures.

Brock Lesnar and Goldberg produce one of WWE's best examples of designing a match around what the wrestlers can do instead of what a WrestleMania match is supposed to look like. There is no feeling-out process. Lesnar hits German suplexes, Goldberg answers with spears, the barricade breaks, and every move could plausibly finish the match because their previous encounters established that standard. Goldberg's Jackhammer near fall matters because Lesnar becomes the first person to survive the spear-and-Jackhammer sequence. The leapfrog avoidance of the final spear changes the match instantly, and Lesnar's suplex barrage leads to the F-5 and title win. Under five minutes, no wasted motion, and complete satisfaction.

The SmackDown women's six-pack challenge is asked to accomplish too much in barely more than five minutes. Six wrestlers need entrances, positioning, signature moments, eliminations or near falls, and a hometown championship victory, yet the match has almost no time to establish any rhythm. The action becomes a sequence of people entering and leaving the frame rather than a story with momentum. Naomi receiving the decisive moment is the correct choice in Orlando, and her submission victory over Alexa Bliss creates a genuine hometown celebration. That result keeps the segment from feeling pointless. The problem is not the wrestlers; it is placement. A WrestleMania championship match deserved enough time to become more than a sprint.

Roman Reigns and The Undertaker carry enormous emotional weight into a match that The Undertaker's body cannot consistently support. The early brawling and announce-table spear create the scale the main event needs, and Reigns works patiently enough to let Undertaker control long stretches. As the match grows more ambitious, execution becomes the story. Several power spots are awkward, the attempted Tombstone reversal breaks down, and Undertaker's visible exhaustion turns planned drama into discomfort. Reigns eventually lands repeated spears and wins clean, becoming only the second man to beat Undertaker at WrestleMania. The match itself is below the placement; the image of Undertaker leaving his gear in the ring afterward is vastly stronger than the wrestling.