Early in the Beckham docuseries David Beckham gatecrashes his wife Victoria’s interview to cast shade on her working-class roots by revealing she was driven to school in a Rolls Royce. On face value it’s a delightful unscripted moment.
But then I start to wonder. Is it possible that the moment when David pops out from behind the door to correct Victoria was contrived to humanise the Beckhams and get some traction on YouTube?
Documentaries about Victoria and David Beckham, Conor McGregor and Taylor Swift have been popular on Netflix in the past year. Credit: The Age
Of course, I have no way of proving this but nor is it an allegation that’s easily refuted. It comes down to who you are you more likely to believe – me, or the Beckhams who were reportedly paid $US20 million ($30 million) for a docuseries brought to you by their production company Studio 99.
And therein lies the problem: shows like this lack the credibility to be called “documentary”. The term is being co-opted to lend authenticity to promotional content that tops up the coffers of megarich celebs while projecting their personal brands to the market.
Should it be surprising that the pair recreated the scene for a doubtlessly lucrative UberEats Superbowl ad, and that Posh is also now selling “My dad had a Rolls Royce’ T-shirts at €130 a pop?
We’re living through a golden age of celebrity documentaries – or celebumentaries as I prefer to call them. You know the ones being churned out by the likes of Harry and Meghan, Robbie Williams, Taylor Swift, Jennifer Lopez, Arnold Schwarzenegger … and many others. When you look closely you may discern a common recipe: 1. Take one or two filthy rich celebrities; 2. Fry up a celebratory narrative; 3. Stir in a teary moment to humanise the subjects; 4. Garnish with some clickbaity minor revelations.
“I want my highlight reel to be like a movie,” proclaims controversial cage fighter Conor McGregor in one of his documentaries. Well… if you’re as rich as he is you can simply make it so.
Via his company Conor McGregor Sports and Entertainment, McGregor executive produced the Notorious documentary that portrays his rise to superstardom. As one might expect, there’s little to the film other than gratuitous training montages, blood-spattered highlights and fawning commentary from his entourage.
McGregor is a canny entrepreneur who understands he’s in showbiz and was clearly born for it. His loud suits, Irish wit and manic bravado are certainly watchable. Fans no doubt enjoyed revisiting his wild performances at weigh-ins and the notorious incident when a trolley became a missile that smashed the window of his rival’s team bus.
We’re in a golden age for celebrity documentaries. Pity we can’t trust them
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06.03.2024
Early in the Beckham docuseries David Beckham gatecrashes his wife Victoria’s interview to cast shade on her working-class roots by revealing she was driven to school in a Rolls Royce. On face value it’s a delightful unscripted moment.
But then I start to wonder. Is it possible that the moment when David pops out from behind the door to correct Victoria was contrived to humanise the Beckhams and get some traction on YouTube?
Documentaries about Victoria and David Beckham, Conor McGregor and Taylor Swift have been popular on Netflix in the past year. Credit: The Age
Of course, I have no way of proving this but nor is it an allegation that’s easily........
© The Sydney Morning Herald
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