Karisma is so convincing as a heel--most recently in matches against new meats Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper--it's easy to forget that the man is one of the best babyfaces in underground wrestling.
In The Great Outdoors, he's Hoyt Riley's plaything. Riley bends him like he's made of pipe cleaners, and Karisma's agonized whimpers send shivers through me. Literally. Nobody but nobody sells agony like Kid K. The panicked simian hyperventilations and look of raw torment in his contorted face supply their own brand of visceral energy to the match. Riley stretches Karisma's muscular legs out so wide you can imagine hearing the popping of tendons. Frantically and futilely Karisma clutches his nuts, defenseless and pinched in his tight white swimsuit. When his vocal chords dry up from incessant raspy groaning, the dumbshow of anguish that remains on his face would make any self-respecting sadist cum on the spot. It takes the man forever to submit, and once released, he rolls on the mat, bent double and pleading, making it impossible for Riley to deny himself the joy of kicking him again and again while he's down.
I haven't seen everything Kid Karisma has done at BG East--not yet--but I haven't seen him in anything or in any role where he was not riveting. He projects all kinds of hotness, and he never stops fighting: for all the intensity of his suffering, he never rolls over and plays dead. Not only is he photogenic, but every second of screen time shimmers with intensity and personality. I have only the faintest hint of what the man must be like in his everyday life, but when he fights, he not only draws my gaze but also half persuades me that I know him and that there's a real connection there--but, then, that's the way it always is with charisma, I guess.