Hulk Hogan: A Real American – A Critical Look

Right now, one of the most popular shows on Netflix is Hulk Hogan: A Real American. This four-part documentary sets out to explore the complicated and often troubling life of Terry Bollea, known as Hulk Hogan. It tries to provoke thoughts about how we view our heroes, reminding us they are, in fact, real, flawed individuals. Unfortunately, much like previous WWE-related projects, it doesn’t quite hit the mark.

Over nearly five hours, the documentary presents a version of Hogan that often portrays men as victims. Whether it’s his upbringing, the pressures of fame, or the passage of time, it conveniently stops just short of holding Hogan accountable for his past misdeeds—suggesting, perhaps, that he’s not quite the redeemable figure he wants us to believe he is.

Sure, Hogan has mentioned steroid use, saying “everyone was doing them.” But then there’s the idea that he exhibited racist behavior, framed as a product of his upbringing. It’s like every negative action is followed by an excuse—his actions against fellow wrestlers, dishonest court testimonies, and even threats made during a drunken conversation are all brushed over with justifications.

Time and again, the documentary allows Hogan to sidestep accountability. Each potentially damaging story comes close to touching the truth, yet just as quickly, he offers an excuse, leaving many of his controversial moments inadequately addressed. The film rarely invites others to challenge his narrative, and some glaring omissions leave significant chapters of his life untouched, ensuring only the most favorable version of Hogan is presented.

• It overlooks how Hogan’s rise in the 1980s was, in part, due to him gaining favor with Vince McMahon by opposing Jesse Ventura’s attempts to unionize WWE.
• Little mention is made of his jealousy and control issues in WCW, which contributed to its decline.
• His time in TNA is hardly discussed.
• The documentary fails to address the details surrounding his second marriage, which lasted for 11 years, largely suggesting he was single until remarrying in 2023.
• Notably, his eldest daughter, Brooke Hogan, is absent from the film, especially given her public distancing from him.
• There’s no acknowledgment that Hogan’s lawsuit against Gawker was financially supported by Peter Thiel, who aimed to bankrupt the company.

Interestingly, the film seems eager to criticize Linda Hogan for her relationship with a man 30 years younger than her, spending ample time mocking that choice, while framing Hogan’s much younger third wife as a redemptive figure. One could argue this inconsistency reflects a tendency to portray Hogan in a favorable light, even allowing him to misstate facts without any fact-checking to back it up.

It’s worth questioning WWE’s motives behind these Netflix-friendly documentaries, particularly the standards they adhere to. Hulk Hogan: A Real American aligns with previous WWE projects in that it presents a narrow, largely unverified look at wrestling history, filtered through WWE’s lens. Instead of delving into genuine narratives, these documentaries seem designed to mold history to fit WWE’s interests, especially with their lucrative $500 million broadcasting contract with Netflix looming large.

Ultimately, viewers must accept that these films are relatively interesting but heavily curated. They exist to maintain WWE’s polished image, featuring only carefully selected stories that avoid any real scrutiny. Just enough criticism is sprinkled in to create a veneer of impartiality, but it hardly scratches the surface of truth.

As long as Netflix continues to air this type of content, the authentic story of professional wrestling may remain elusive.