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Mr McMahon Is A Mildly Entertaining But Ultimately Deeply Unsatisfying Netflix Product

Netflix's <em>Mr McMahon</em> falls into that very unsatisfying category of documentaries that sport slick editing, high-end production values and almost zero end-product. Empty calories. if you will.

Karan+Pradhan

Oct 22, 2024

Promo poster for Mr McMahon. Image via Netflix

Trigger warning: The following article and the documentary in question make references to various instances of sexual harassment, molestation, assault and trafficking. Reader discretion is advised

There was a time when documentaries were well thought-out and researched collections of archival footage, talking heads, solid stories and an important takeaway. While the first three drew you in, the latter is your raison d'etre for sitting through it all. Over the past few years, we have been increasingly seeing a glut of documentaries (especially ones commissioned by Netflix) that sport slick editing, high-end production values and almost zero end-product. Empty calories, if you will. Mr McMahon — the six-part documentary about the disgraced Vince K McMahon, former chairman and CEO of WWF/E for over four decades — falls quite neatly into that very unsatisfying category of documentaries.

It takes some restraint to use the adjective ‘disgraced’ over a whole lot of other NSFW adjectives to describe the subject of the piece, but here we are. And it would be incredibly disingenuous not to address the disclaimer at the start of each episode making it clear that “a majority” of the interviews were conducted before all the heinous allegations against Vince surfaced. And, as soon as the accusations emerged, Vince decided to stop fielding any more questions.

Same old song and dance

For now, let’s stick to the first five-and-a-half episodes of the series. Most anyone who is au fait with the world of professional wrestling will be quite well-versed with the WWF/E, and as a result, with the stories told in the first chunk of Mr McMahon. The federal steroid abuse case, the ring boy sex scandal, the respective ignominious exits of wrestlers Wendi Richter and Bret Hart, the Chris Benoit double murder-suicide case and the ‘Monday Night Wars’ with rival promotion WCW are among the well-worn tales that are aired out and, at best, given an additional layer or two in the form of a handful of new perspectives.

I should point out that veteran bodybuilder, powerlifter, and professional wrestler Anthony White (ring name Tony Atlas) is one of the few whose interview inputs actually add to the discourse. So too did the views of former WWE wrestler Christopher Nowinski (discussing chronic traumatic encephalopathy or CTE). Most of the others interviewed, particularly former WWF/E wrestlers, come across as milquetoast and borderline sycophants toeing the company line. The WWE’s chief content officer Paul “Triple H” Levesque comes off as particularly smarmy and so married to the business — literally, considering he’s married to Vince’s daughter Stephanie, as well as figuratively — that he’s incapable of being objective. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson pops up to speak effusively about his favourite topic: Himself. And “Stone Cold” Steve Austin comes across as extremely ignorant, particularly when discussing the topic of concussions and subsequent CTE. His pronouncements of “I’m not a CTE guy. I don’t believe in it” are among the more cringeworthy moments of the documentary. Another is a bevvy of wrestlers (current and former) pledging how Vince was a ‘father figure’ to them. These paeans follow sections of various interviews detailing how shabbily he treated (and possibly continues to treat) his own son Shane.

My overall impression after watching the first five-and-a-half episodes was that there’s very little of note here for people who have been following the product for a while. And if you happen to be new to pro-wrestling and want to dig into its history, there are far better documentaries (Wrestling with Shadows Beyond the Mat and The Rise & Fall of ECW to name a few) out there that do a better job of it.

Unreliable narrator

This brings us to the final half-an-episode of the series: The section in which they discuss the allegations levelled against Vince. From sexual harassment and assault to trafficking and who knows what else, the self-proclaimed onscreen ‘genetic jackhammer’ is facing a massive investigation. One would imagine that instead of attempting to rush out a documentary while the word “McMahon” was trending, Netflix might have had the good sense to pursue the story a bit more and release the series once more information had been gathered, but alas. In some senses, it’s a bit like being tasked with reviewing a film, but you walk out 10 minutes after the interval and base your analysis only on what you have seen until then because the “SEO guy” says you need to push out the piece as soon as possible. As an interesting aside, Netflix and WWE recently signed an agreement whereby the OTT behemoth will exclusively be streaming the company’s hugely successful weekly Raw programme from January 2025. Read into that as you will.

Regardless, as mentioned above it’s really only the journalists who discuss the allegations against Vince, and even then, it’s a rehashing of what’s been reported in the news. That it’s a sub judice matter means one can’t really have individuals put information out there that might influence the investigation, but handing out incomplete information is almost as bad. Anyway, let’s parse through the crumbs we’ve been handed.

The series takes a great deal of time to try and piece together what Vince’s childhood and upbringing was like, emphasising the variety of abuse he suffered at the hands of the adults in his life. He maintains quite firmly that unlike the Menendez brothers (the subject of some other Netflix IPs), he believes claiming that childhood abuse turns one into an abuser is a “cop-out”. This is all well and good, but how does that jibe with the fact that — on the basis of what we are shown in the few parts when the interviewees actually speak out, the WWF/E itself is a temple of abuse? There are documented instances of professional, emotional, chemical, psychological, physical and of course sexual abuse littered throughout the company’s history. Let’s go through the list: The rampant use of steroids and other prescription drugs, forcing humiliating storylines on people to punish them, having wrestlers actually hurt people in the ring as punishment, cancellation of contracts, a refusal to allow unionisation (WWE wrestlers are still independent contractors and not employees), the despicable treatment of women (something Tony Atlas also attests to) and so on.

Further, Vince’s frequent assertions that no one knows the real Vince McMahon and that he doesn’t like talking about himself make it a bit tricky to keep up when he swings back and forth in terms of how much the onscreen character is based on the real-life person. And it seems even the interviewees can’t decide if Vince is a lot like “Mr McMahon”, exactly like him, nothing like him or an exaggeration of him. This makes some of the regressive and exploitative antics his character pulled on television seem even more problematic in retrospect. And at the end, we’re left as much in the dark as when we started the first episode of the series.

Watch, forget and look for what else is out there

There was a time when prominent pro-wrestling writer (yes, it’s scripted) Vince Russo’s style of stories, rivalries and matches — very reminiscent of what you’d see on the Jerry Springer Show — was known as “Crash TV”. Many hundreds of thousands would tune in every week just to see what crazy shenanigans were in the offing, because it was all so unpredictable. Mr McMahon is the opposite of that. It’s the most sterile and insipid retelling of stories that aren’t even shocking anymore because they’ve been wheeled out so often. As I’d stated earlier, a sprinkling of perspectives is quite interesting and even moving in a few cases. Shane’s story, for instance, of having to constantly try and win his father’s approval was quite affecting. But overall, the agenda remains to protect the business and do what is best for business.

Netflix’ agenda also appears to be to do what is best for its own business: Keep churning out hastily slapped-together, well-produced and seemingly ‘all-access’ documentaries that make a lot of noise, but say very little. This is the latest product on its conveyor belt that features numerous other shiny, but ultimately pointless pieces of content — empty calories, as I’d called them at the top of the piece. In closing, WWE wins, Netflix wins (by providing context to its Raw streaming deal) and it’s the viewers who are left with a mildly entertaining but ultimately deeply unsatisfying product.

Mr McMahon is currently streaming on Netflix.