Vince McMahon attends a press conference to announce that WWE Wrestlemania 29 will be held at MetLife Stadium in 2013 at MetLife Stadium on February 16, 2012 in East Rutherford, New Jersey. (Photo by Michael N. Todaro/Getty Images)
(Photo by Michael N. Todaro/Getty Images)

‘Deceptive, misleading’: Vince McMahon cannot deny his transgressions in the wake of Netflix’s ‘Mr. McMahon’ documentary

Former WWE CEO Vince McMahon is ready to complete the crash-out. In full wrestling kayfabe fashion against Netflix’s much-anticipated docuseries Mr. McMahon, the former WWE chairman called it “deceptive” and “misleading” based on an early cut he’d seen—just a day before its release.

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The six-part series premiered September 25, claiming to provide an “unflinching” look at McMahon’s life and career. But McMahon, ever the showman, appears as determined to control the series’ narrative as he would one of his summer pay-per-view events, even as it slips from his grasp.

McMahon’s statement, posted on X (formerly Twitter), reads like a bizzaro last-ditch effort to salvage his reputation. At first blush, it seems straightforward, with him claiming the documentary “falls short and takes the predictable path of conflating the ‘Mr. McMahon’ character with my true self, Vince.” Yet the conflation has been McMahon’s broad modus operandi for decades, blurring the lines between his on-screen persona and real-life actions.

The timing (the day before release) of McMahon’s outburst is suspect, at best. By decrying the documentary’s alleged inaccuracies, he’s knowingly drumming up publicity for a series exposing his misdeeds. Here, he will play one last character as wrestling’s ultimate supervillain. It’s a classic McMahon move: controversy creates attention, even when that controversy centers on allegations of sexual misconduct and abuse of power. Attention for a man showcasing narcissistic tendencies is like a warm shower.

McMahon’s wild attempt to dismiss a lawsuit accusing him of sexual assault and trafficking as “an affair I ended” is particularly nasty business. His unhinged attitude towards these serious allegations undermines whatever claims he has of misrepresentation.

Directed by Chris Smith of “Tiger King” fame, the docuseries features interviews with WWE legends like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, (the highly problematic) Hulk Hogan, and John Cena. Their inclusion suggests viewers will get a comprehensive look at McMahon’s impact on the wrestling industry, at least from the viewpoints of his superstars—which could be problematic, depending on their particular allegiances to McMahon. But it’s the darker aspects of his reign—the allegations of misconduct, the toxic workplace culture—that McMahon seems desperate to downplay.

McMahon’s statement that viewers should “keep an open mind” as if he is owed an iota of sympathy is particularly telling because it is clearly an attempt to throw whatever is shown into question without direct denial. It comes off as, “Oh, ok, sure, maybe I was (allegedly) a monster, but please, hear me out.” His well-documented track record as a real-life heel speaks for itself. His January exit from WWE, amid mounting allegations for years of alleged misconduct, was the culmination of a troubled and arrogant man facing some measure of actual consequence—rare for a man of his stature and wealth.

In his weak attempt at separating himself from the “Mr. McMahon” character, McMahon reveals just how fundamentally intertwined he and his profitable, spectral twin have become and that he has no intention of escaping the concocted duality, especially in his last moment in the sun. His use of charged language, with accusations of “editing tricks” and “deceptive narratives,” could easily be mistaken for one of his classic WWE in-ring promos in tweet form. The line between performance and reality has long since blurred, with McMahon incapable of stepping out of character. In fact, it appears that he will ensure he will have some say in how he is perceived, come hell or high water.

McMahon’s inability to gracefully fade from the spotlight, even in disgrace, is an unfortunate testament to a near-unmatched narcissism that made him a wrestling icon and a highly problematic figure outside the ring. As viewers tune in to Mr. McMahon, they’ll be left to figure out for themselves where the character ends and the man begins, which appears to be a distinction that even Vince McMahon himself seems unable to differentiate.


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Kahron Spearman
Kahron Spearman is an Austin-based writer and a contributing writer for The Mary Sue. Kahron brings experience from The Austin Chronicle, Texas Highways Magazine, and Texas Observer. Be sure to follow him on his existential substack (kahron.substack.com) or X (@kahronspearman) for more.