If you grew up in the late 80s or early 90s, you didn’t just watch Hulk Hogan—you lived in a world defined by him. Between the vitamins, the prayers, and the neon yellow spandex, the Hulkster was less of a wrestler and more of a living superhero.

But then, 1989 gave us something that defied logic, physics, and perhaps, good taste: No Holds Barred.

Look, I’m not here to tell you this is an Oscar-contending masterpiece. It’s objectively ridiculous. It’s loud, it’s sweaty, and the plot makes a Saturday morning cartoon look like Succession. But despite its campy nature—or maybe because of it—this movie still resonates with me today.