Say hi to the bad guy. Created and written by Osamu Suzuki, Netflix’s new Japanese-language miniseries The Queen of Villains is about the life and (mostly) fictional crimes of infamous real-life women’s wrestler Dump Matsumoto. Dump was a pioneer whose intimidating face paint, bleached blonde hair, and penchant for bloody mayhem inspired male and female wrestlers alike across the globe to swaggerjack her, and made her a cultural phenomenon in her native land.
Will a biopic series about her rise to the top thrill Netflix audiences in America the same way? THE QUEEN OF VILLAINS : STREAM IT OR SKIP IT? Opening Shot : The camera pans slowly across a dressing room table. Amid the scattered make-up, all of it black, we also see weapons — a chain, a fork. They’re all tools of the trade for the woman making herself look monstrous in the mirror: Dump Matsumoto (comedian Yuriyan Retriever), the most popular heel, or bad guy, in 1980s Japanese women’s wrestling.
The Gist: In 1974, Kaoru Matsumoto is a chubby, adorable, dirt-poor little girl (played as a kid by child actress Satoru) who lives with her kid sister Hiromi (Marin Nishimoto) and single mother (Nobuko Sendo) in a one-room apartment. Actually, Kaoru wishes her mom were single: Her freeloading father Goro (Takamitsu Nonaka) shows up every now and then to drink, bully his wife and children, and steal their money. When Kaoru discovers he has not only a second family but also a second daughter named Kaoru, it’s all too much for the kid to take.
Running away from the nightmarish scene through the rain, she stumbles across a venue being set up for a women’s wrestling show later that evening. In the ring, a beautiful wrestler named Jackie Sato (Hitomi Kamoshida) is practicing. Her grit and determination — and, it seems safe to say, physical beauty — spark something inside Kaoru, who becomes a devoted fan who wants nothing more than to be a pro wrestler herself.
Her opportunity comes after a heartbreaking grudge match between Jackie and her estranged tag team partner (and, it’s heavily implied, romantic partner as well), Maki (Haruka Imou). Deciding to pursue her dream against all odds, Kaoru finds herself immersed in the company’s grueling training program, up against more talented and athletic young women. (All of them are instructed to honor the company’s Three Taboos: no drinking, no smoking, and no men.
) Kaoru makes a friend in Chigusa (Erika Karata), a homeless trainee who literally lives underneath the ring, but she perpetually disappoints trainer Toshikuni Matsunaga (Takumi Saitoh), who runs the promotion along with his brothers. When she and Chigusa square off and her blood is spilled in the ring for the first time, will she have the fighting spirit it takes to overcome the odds and make it to the main event? (Hint: Look at the title of the show.) What Movies and Shows Will It Remind You Of? : If you’ve already used your Netflix subscription to watch the excellent reality series Wrestlers , the late, lamented women’s wrestling dramedy GLOW , or its recent acquisition, the Stephen Amell indie-wrestling drama Heels , the chances are very good you’ll enjoy The Queen of Villains .
And considering the moment women wrestlers like WWE’s Rhea Ripley (WWE’s RAW is coming to Netflix in January 2025) are currently having, audiences for the real thing will eat this up too. Movie-wise, so far it has more in common with Fighting with My Family , the authorized biography of wrestler Saraya “Paige” Knight, played by Florence Pugh, than it does with The Iron Claw , the crushing real-life tragedy of the legendary Von Erich family. Wrestling aside, the rockstar vibes of the wrestlers at their peak, where acts like Jackie and Maki’s singing tag team Beauty Pair earn Beatlemania-level reactions from the crowd that evoke everything from Elvis to Velvet Goldmine .
And Dump Matsumoto isn’t the only woman on Netflix who escaped an abusive past by becoming a monster: Sofia Vergara’s Griselda , anyone? Our Take: You don’t need to be into wrestling to appreciate the rags-to-ring-trunks story of Kaoru, an empathetic, relatable (and, refreshingly, fat) heroine who had me both tearing up and cheering at the screen. Writer Suzuki and director Kazuya Shiraishi make sure that for every brutal moment, like Kaoru’s discovery of the other Kaoru, there’s a hugely uplifting one, like the shocking moment when she gets her comeuppance against her low-down dirty dad. The show also understands how personal a fan’s connection to the performers can be.
Kaoru is as smitten with Hitomi Kamoshida’s mesmerizingly pretty Jackie Sato as is director Kazuya Shiraishi’s camera. The sexual tension between Jackie and Maki during their final match against one another is tauter than piano wire even, if you don’t see so much as a single kiss; when the defeated wrestler briefly rests her hand on her opponent-slash-ex-girlfriend’s shoulder before leaving, I nearly swooned as hard as Kaoru. I don’t know if this will become a queer coming-of-age story or what, but all of this human interest is key if you want to make a show that appeals to people who don’t know a brainbuster from a Boston crab.
Sex and Skin: No one gets it on, if that’s what you’re wondering. But this is a wrestling show, and as such you’re going to see a lot of beautiful, athletic women grappling in their underwear. Parting Shot: Seemingly driven berserk by the sight of her own blood, Dump pounds the bejesus out of her friend Chigusa, the monster wrestler within revealed at last.
Sleeper Stars: If you can walk away from this episode feeling anything but undying affection for Satoru and Yuriyan Retriever, the actors who play Dump as a little girl and an aspiring wrestler respectively, please ask your psychiatrist to adjust your dosage, because something is very wrong. These are two of the most endearing performances of the year, both for the same character! Most Pilot-y Line: Still undecided about the audition, Kaoru bumps into her father’s mistress (Tomoko Tabata) and the other Kaoru, who’ve long since gotten rid of that freeloader. The kind single mom gives our Kaoru some very pilot-y advice: “You should live as you like.
Enjoy life. Make that good-for-nothing feel like he failed.” Our Verdict: STREAM IT.
The Queen of Villains goes for some predictable biopic beats, and the jaunty score in particular makes it seem less powerful than it actually is at times. But this is a fun, funny, exciting, heart-pounding little show, one that captures the spectacle, glamour, danger, and sexiness of professional wrestling as well as anything I’ve ever watched. Sean T.
Collins ( @theseantcollins ) writes about TV for Rolling Stone , Vulture , The New York Times , and anyplace that will have him , really. He and his family live on Long Island..
