Ninjas In Vegas

 

When I was a small child – and I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying this statement surely holds true for many other little boys in the late ‘80s to early ‘90s –  two staples of my early television viewing were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Double Dare. The former was a cartoon fantasy turned live-action movie which glorified the ninja and amphibian lifestyles, respectively. The latter was a family gameshow centered around its climactic obstacle course and perhaps ground zero for our generation’s current adult obsession with obstacle runs (Tough Mudder, Spartan Race, Warrior Dash, etc). Both were cultural phenomena in their own right. But take the best parts of each, throw in a dash of American Gladiators, and bring in a circus of athletic freaks? Now that’s good television. And that’s American Ninja Warrior.

The domestic adaptation of the Japanese original aired this season’s primetime finale on Monday night, the culmination of a summer’s worth of parkour athletes on parade as well as stunning displays of upper body strength and coordination. We weeded out the costumed sideshows (mostly) through the regional qualifiers and finals, and for the last few episodes have watched the best of the best (plus some wildcards) attack Mt. Midoriyama (rough translation: mountain green mountain), the monstrous final series of challenges. Constructed adjacent to the bright Las Vegas skyline and based on the original daunting four-stage course in Yokohama, to say the anticipation of these penultimate phases has kept me going through the doldrums of summer weekday television would be an understatement. Perhaps it’s the memories of gladiators, turtles, and physical challenges past, but I absolutely love this show. I realize the commentators, sideline announcer, and production value in general – you know, almost the whole program – aren’t exactly worthy of critical acclaim, but the nature of the obstacles and the dedication of the competitors more than make up for these deficits. The top competitors – those who make the finals year after year and even manage to develop a fan following – train for these obstacles virtually year-round, pouring their hearts and souls into a competition, very much similar to elite, professional athletes. And I would argue that they very much fit the bill in that respect. Like many other fans of the show, I’ve wanted nothing more than the chance to just attempt the course – specifically the warped wall – but as a realist, I understand that the sheer upper body strength and muscular endurance required to complete the latter stages are impossibly difficult. One of my former teammates, similar in size and athletic prowess to myself, actually appeared as a contestant on the show in an earlier season, and despite the fact that he later went on to win an episode of Wipeout, he failed pretty miserably on Ninja Warrior. I briefly entertained the possibility of joining a Ninja Warrior gym (oh, they’re out there) not too far from my current place of residence, but upon further consideration – and the fact that one needs to pass a ten-week parkour class first to even attempt the ninja stuff – it became obvious that this was not in the cards. All of this to make the convoluted point that you and I, the Joe Six-Packs and weekend warriors tuning in, are worlds away from doing what these final competitors are capable of doing.

The finale picked up midway through Stage Two, several contestants having already advanced past this phase on the previous episode in their attempts towards “achieving total victory” – which unfortunately sounds somewhere between an awkward translation to English and a euphemism for an orgasm. While this part of the course is burdened with a time limit, the athletes who made it all the way to Stage Three were not. What they did encounter, however, was a forearm and shoulder workout for the ages. The cold, hard truth hanging over the heads of each season’s competitors is that no one has advanced past this stage on the US version of the show, and only one American has ever even attempted the final challenge, albeit in Japan, and in the fall of 2001. In fact, only three people have ever achieved total victory – again, what a weird phrase – in twenty-nine Japanese seasons. The odds assuredly against them, all but one failed within the first few obstacles. One man, Brian Arnold, managed to demonstrate the grip strength of an action hero and the swinging ability of Tarzan, advancing further than even show-darling Brent Steffensen did the previous year and coming this close to getting a crack at Stage Four. All too aware of the minutes ticking away on the program’s allotted time, I had accepted the fact that Arnold would not be advancing, but that notion vanished from my mind as I held my breath during the harrowing moments he spent on the Hang Climb, Spider Flip, and Flying Bar. Ultimately, he fell just short, but from the crowd’s reaction, you would have never known it. He received a standing ovation, conducted an emotional interview with his family at his side, and was hoisted up on the shoulders of his fellow contestants. Perhaps that’s the hidden appeal of the contest – the camaraderie between the athletes. Each of them is trying to outdo the others, yet supporting them all the same. They want someone to win, just as much as we the viewers do. And we can only hope that next year, our misfit boys of summer will succeed.

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