David Farnor | On 15, Oct 2023

The celebrity documentary is a genre of two halves – either a candid, warts-and-all look at the person behind the headlines, or a congratulatory celebration that trades scrunity for access to friends, family and personal photographs. Netflix’s Beckham is a nice balance of the two, scoring win after win across a tight four episodes.

The series manages the same feat as Sunderland ‘Til I Die, Diego Maradona and Welcome to Wrexham, in appealing to audiences whether they’re football fans or not, and its secret is to tap into the human drama that’s accompanied David Beckham’s on-pitch legacy. Director Fisher Stevens hits the tone with the precision of his subject’s free kicks, keeping things light and playful so that the most mundane footage can feel entertaining while the most earnest moments can feel sincere.

Stevens takes us right back to Beckham’s teen days, when we learn he was quite a lonely kid and was focused firmly on football – directed by his dad to commit to the sport. That focus feeds into his natural relationship with Alex Ferguson, who brought the youngster into the Manchester United fold. The series’ best bits are when we’re getting both of their perspectives on their unique dynamic and how it shifted over the years – from stern and protective father to fractious and frustrated former boss, as Beckham departed the club. And yet, through their disagreements, there’s a clear mutual and lasting respect between the duo, which makes their bond all the more fascinating.

A number of other footballers also appear, from Cantona, Gary Neville and Paul Scholes to Roy Keane and Rio Ferdinand. Their comments on him personally and professionally are brilliantly frank, setting the bar for David’s own interviews. And he doesn’t disappoint, reflecting on the pressures of celebrity and the changing media landscpe in the UK as well as the public vitriol that came after that red card in the 1998 World Cup.

Victoria Beckham matches him without holding much back, and they discuss even topics you might expect them to avoid, from allegations of an affair to lurid chants targeted at her in the stands. But they’re also surprisingly self-deprecating and self-aware, whether that’s their heavily purple wedding or his overly exacting cleaning habits at home. Throughout, Stevens, DoP Tim Cragg and the editing team craft some gorgeous visuals that echo that honesty, including an evocative crossfade of talking heads with archive footage.

The concluding chapters take us into the latter years of Beckham’s career, including the bizarre move to the USA. While it ends on a note that could feel a bit too promotional, the result is a surprisingly riveting insight into the kind of person who becomes a football star – and the fandom that follows, right up to a documentary on Netflix.

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