Yes, we're talking wrestling. More specifically, Lucha Libre, which translates directly as "Just shut up and come to the show with me, you're going to love this, trust me". I think.
Spent a couple of excellent nights shooting at the London School of Lucha, at the invitation of the masked gentlemen behind the underground spectacle that is Lucha Britannia. Fun was had, bodies were introduced to the mat forcefully, and people jumped, kicked, flipped and flew with elegance, grace, aggression and spandex.
"The ring is a lake", said trainer (and cockney crusader) Greg Burridge at one point, "Stomp across it and you're going to sink, you have to move like a pebble skipping across the water". Rules for life, kids.
If you know me, then you'll probably know that I have a bit of a background in combat arts, both real and theatrical, and I cannot tell you how hard I had to work just to remain grown up and professional while stepping into the ring to shoot. All I really wanted to do was ask everyone to step outside and leave me alone with the ring for half an hour so I could run around like a child, hitting the ropes and throwing a couple of flip bumps. Ironically I currently have a bugger of a neck injury, so it was me walking around like an old wrestler rather than any of the actual wrestlers.
Anyway - if you're in London and you fancy training in Lucha Libre - and trust me, it's serious business that'll get you fit fast, or just want to see masked superheroes kicking the crap out of each other and spinning through the air before your very eyes, then check out Lucha Britannia.
Everyone should have friends with secret identities who put on masks and fly.
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