Britain's underground wrestling scene runs through community centres in Plymouth and back-street venues in Glasgow, far from the memory of terrestrial TV's World of Sport and further still from the arena spectacle of America's WWE. VICE follows the men and women who moonlight as pro wrestlers, holding day jobs during the week and climbing into makeshift rings on weekends for crowds that might number in the dozens. There is no television deal here and no path to the money or fame of mainstream wrestling: the appeal is the transformation itself, ordinary Brits becoming costumed characters the moment the bell rings, and the camaraderie of a scene that survives on its own terms. The film moves between locker rooms, sparsely attended halls, and interviews with the wrestlers about why they keep showing up to get thrown around for an audience that barely covers the venue hire. It is a small, largely unrecorded subculture, and the documentary treats it as one worth taking seriously on its own scale rather than measuring against the sport's bigger, glossier version.