Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Mr. McMahon’ on Netflix, a New Docuseries Profiling The Longtime Head of WWE

For as long as most fans can remember, there’s been no World Wrestling Entertainment without Vince McMahon . The longtime head of WWE /WWF turned a regional business into a global entertainment superpower, and turned himself into a star in the process. He’s been no stranger to controversy during that time, though, with serious allegations of misconduct and abuse. Mr. McMahon , a new six-part documentary miniseries on Netflix, seeks to paint a fuller picture of the larger-than-life figure.

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Opening Shot: McMahon, besuited as always, climbs through the ropes of a wrestling ring, and sits down in a folding chair for an interview. We quick-cut through a montage of other figures from the wrestling world sitting for their own interviews, and some of these faces will be familiar even to people who aren’t hardcore wrestling fans–there’s Hulk Hogan, the Undertaker, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, John Cena, and more. Text on the screen suggests that over 100 hours of interviews were filmed with McMahon, his family, business associates, and other WWE figures. An off-screen interviewer prompts McMahon himself, and he replies–somewhat dubiously–that “I’m talking about me, which I have never done before.”

The Gist: Mr. McMahon follows a pretty straightforward sports-docuseries format. There’s a lot of archival footage here–and given the subject matter, it’s pretty entertaining footage–and it’s given context by contemporary interviews with a broad collection of figures from WWE’s history. The spine of the documentary, though, is McMahon himself, who serves as prime interview subject and pseudo-narrator here. This is McMahon’s story as told by the man himself, even if he’s got help doing it.

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What Shows Will It Remind You Of? There’s DNA of ESPN’s 30 For 30 series here, with creator Bill Simmons acting as executive producer here, and Tiger King producer Chris King brings a talent for portraying a stranger-than-fiction character. Perhaps the closest recent parallel, though, is Muscles & Mayhem , the recent documentary on American Gladiators , which similarly portrayed an all-American entertainment business plagued by misconduct..

Our Take: You don’t have to be a wrestling fan to be at least passingly familiar with Vince McMahon. The longtime head of WWE is an unavoidable figure in popular culture, even if you just know his as the guy from in the “increasingly excited guy” meme format. There’s a good chance, too, that you know that Vince McMahon has often played the role of villain both in the ring and in real life–plagued by questionable business dealings and serious accusations of sexual misconduct.

So what can we expect from Mr. McMahon, Netflix’s new six-episode documentary miniseries?

This series can’t be honestly reviewed without the knowledge that Netflix has recently signed a massive, five-billion-dollar deal to acquire the broadcast rights to WWE wrestling. Mr. McMahon is sold as an expose, but is Netflix really going to tear down the man who built the business they just bought into?

The first episode of the series suggests that it’s going to get right into the meat of things, addressing the allegations against McMahon, including some that came to light during the product of the documentary. From there, though, it quickly pivots to a familiar (and favorable) portrayal of McMahon’s rise from regional wrestling promoter to global entertainment icon. We learn about his troubled relationship with his distant father, and his entry into the father’s existing wrestling business. We learn how he bought the business from his father, and how he erased the boundaries that had kept it as a regional business to that point with the help of newly-minted superstars like Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant and the Iron Sheik. We see him taking over the airwaves, guesting on Letterman and coming up with the idea for Wrestlemania. For all its packaging as a no-holds barred expose, this plays a lot like an internal WWE production.

It’s not a stretch to suggest that Vince McMahon conducts himself like a politician; he’s had a long relationship with former president Donald Trump, supporting his campaigns after featuring him as an in-ring WWE personality. His wife Linda ran for Senate twice, served as the administrator of the Small Business Administration under Trump, and is co-chairing Trump’s transition team in the current campaign. The point in noting all of this is that McMahon knows how to run a campaign, and how to manage the narrative.

In that light, it’s possible to see Mr. McMahon as a campaign getting out ahead of a troublesome scandal by releasing their own version of the story before their opponents can tell a more damning version. Of course, the allegations against McMahon have been public for years, but the general public likely isn’t intimately aware of all the details. By dropping a few kernels of it within an otherwise triumphant narrative, the makers of Mr. McMahon are packaging it in a way favorable to both the man and the enterprise: “Yeah, Vince McMahon’s got his problems, but look at what he built! Don’t you love it?” Other controversial moments during WWE’s rise–like the time wrestler David Schultz slapped ABC News reporter John Stossel on-air for suggesting wrestling was fake–are played as strangely triumphant, color in the heroic narrative.

That’s not to say that this isn’t a worthwhile program–McMahon’s story is genuinely fascinating, and having an understanding of professional wrestling is genuinely instructive in our current media and political environment. It’s worth understanding who’s telling the story here, though–and why.

Sex and Skin: There’s the usual amount of tanned-and-oiled skin you’d expect from professional wrestling, of course. More seriously, though, there’s extensive discussion of sexual misconduct allegations made against McMahon.

Parting Shot: We’re just past WrestleMania, and it’s clear that WWE has momentum. We’ve acknowledged some of the hiccups, but there’s no stopping them now. The story fades to black with text noting that ABC News reporter John Stossel and actor Richard Belzer both quietly settled lawsuits against the company for their respective on-screen assaults. It’s a bit of foreshadowing–WWE and McMahon can do whatever they want, because they’ve got the money and the power now.

Sleeper Star: There’s a deep cast of WWE luminaries on display through Mr. McMahon’s six-episode run, but some of the most illuminating quotes in the pilot come from WWE Hall of Famer Tony Atlas (real name Anthony White), who gives context to many of the most colorful stories from the company’s rise.

Most Pilot-y Line: “I wish I could tell you the real stories, holy shit,” McMahon says to his off-screen interviewer. “Alright, give us one,” the interviewer counters. “No.” “Why?” “That’s what I’m saying, I don’t want to give you any stories. I’ll give you enough that it’s semi-interesting. I don’t want anyone to really know me.”

Our Call: STREAM IT. Mr. McMahon isn’t the the whole story, and it’s not reasonable to expect it to be given the financial conflict of interest between Netflix and WWE. It’s still a fascinating story, though, and there’s a lot to be taken from Mr. McMahon , even if you take it with a grain of salt on the side. (Or perhaps in the eyes.)

Scott Hines, publisher of the widely-beloved Action Cookbook Newsletter , is an architect, blogger and proficient internet user based in Louisville, Kentucky.

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