Despite selling 85 million records as one-fifth of pop’s biggest ever girlband, reinventing herself as an Anna Wintour-approved fashion designer, and, for better or worse, essentially changing the face of celebrity culture, Victoria Beckham’s talents are often deemed a distant second to her much-worshipped sporting hero husband’s. Unfortunately, her eponymous Netflix documentary, a no-brainer after the five-time Emmy-nominated success of David’s, is unlikely to change this narrative.
Indeed, while Beckham offered a candid deep dive into the ups and downs of Goldenballs’ rollercoaster career, also contextualizing the zeitgeist it journeyed through, Victoria Beckham disappointingly plays out like an exercise in brand management. “I always call myself a control freak in a nice way,” the artist formerly known as Posh Spice notes, a telling remark no doubt explaining why its three episodes feel as micro-managed as the Parisian fashion show they center around.
Any gossip hounds hoping for revelations about the ongoing family feud with Brooklyn—who only appears here via a few old home videos and never mentioned by name—would be better sticking to the supermarket tabloids. That’s fair enough, obviously. For all their media ubiquity since the height of Girl Power, the Beckhams have never been the kind to air their dirty laundry in public. However, the show also stays tight-lipped about the subjects from which you’d expect a little more frankness.
Talk of the Spice Girls—also notable by their absence—is restricted to archival clips we’ve seen countless times before and the odd passing comment, most notably how she was guilt-tripped by David into signing up for their 2007 comeback. There’s nothing about their Olympics closing ceremony triumph or how she felt watching them reunite as a foursome.
Likewise, the solo career which although brief still spawned one of the fiercest ever chart battles and a shelved hip-hop album with the co-founder of Jay-Z‘s Roc-A-Fella. Victoria acknowledges she wouldn’t be in such an illustrious position today without her music exploits (“I have never forgotten where I came from”), but appears determined to bury them under the carpet as quickly as possible.
Victoria does elaborate a little more on her life prior to platform boots and zig-a-zig-ahs. She reminisces about her early love of the theater (clarifying why she auditioned for the Spice Girls singing Cabaret’s “Mein Herr”) and how her ambition often outweighed her perceived abilities.
“On one occasion where we thought she was doing really well… she was put right at the back,” remembers dad Tony, the man she credits with inspiring her strong work ethic, about the local stage school productions shown in grainy camcorder footage. Mum Janet also gets credit for instilling a sense of pride in her appearance, especially when trying to bag a flight upgrade. “The truth is that there is no first class on budget airlines,” Victoria quips, proving the wry sense of humor showcased in her string of ‘00s documentaries remains intact. It’s not long, though, before the show once again prematurely hits fast forward.
While her other half’s doc also fleshed out his life story with contributions from his mentor to his former teammates to even the man who instigated his infamous World Cup red card, Victoria’s largely relies on her present inner circle. Instead of Emma, Geri, and the two Mels, therefore, talking head duties fall to showbiz pal Eva Longoria (admittedly so charismatic you hope she gets her own Netflix biopic) and a parade of major fashion world players falling over themselves to sing the star’s sartorial praises.
Even the notoriously difficult-to-please Wintour admits she was wrong to dismiss Victoria’s career pivot as a glorified hobby. It’s hard to shake the feeling, even more so as the end credits roll amid Victoria accepting an award for Entrepreneur of the Year, that we’re essentially watching a self-congratulatory puff piece.
Victoria Beckham does try to inject some tension into proceedings, capturing the stresses of staging a 600-strong fashion show at a dilapidated castle upon which the heavens inconveniently open. Still, it’s hardly the stuff of high drama. Will the hoi-polloi have to suffer the hardship of brandishing an umbrella? The third episode, in particular, drops the facade of a celebrity profile altogether, turning into an A-list Project Runway final in which there’s only one contestant. Victoria repeatedly claims that a disastrous show would cause her empire to instantly crumble. But the rapturous response is never really in doubt.
Victoria’s achievement in penetrating a field renowned for its gatekeeping remains impressive, for sure, and her obvious passion for clothes shines throughout. With a mixture of embarrassment and pride, she recalls modifying her first Versace freebie at the peak of SpiceMania—cue a perfectly placed eye roll from an otherwise gushing Donatella. And there are further interesting tidbits about her unlikely rise from industry laughing stock to Vogue darling, from the early Marc Jacobs shoot so mocking it left her recoiling in horror to the admission she once spent £70,000 a year on office plants. You just have to wade through an awful lot of fabric-cutting and inspiration boards to hear them.
Much more compelling is when Victoria allows cameras to peek behind the curtains of her own family life. Daughter Harper is of great value, scolding her mom for struggling to nail a TikTok dance routine and innocently wondering why her name is emblazoned across a bash for Harper’s Bazaar. And say what you like about Posh and Becks. 27 years after famously holding court on their own wedding thrones, the pair are still the definition of power couple goals. You could quite happily watch them bantering over terrible dad gags and cheese sandwiches for two- and a-bit hours instead. “When I met Victoria, I couldn’t find one thing about her I didn’t like,” remarks David before joking, “I can find a few now.”
The pair aren’t afraid to get serious though, with both referencing the financial problems that threatened to derail Victoria’s business and the overwhelming press scrutiny—often highly misogynistic—that left her a former shell of herself. In one of several shocking TV clips lifted from the turn of the century, pompous art critic Brian Sewell viciously derides her as “just a common little b—h.” Even more jaw-dropping is the laddish TV presenter who gleefully wishes for her to “starve to death.” “People thought I was a miserable cow that never smiled and they’re not wrong,” she admits about the impact of such mercilessly cruel rhetoric. Even her biggest detractors would find it difficult not to feel at least a pang of sympathy.
Yet as with her Michelle Obama doc Becoming, director Nadia Hallgren seems reluctant to prod when some additional prodding is desperately required. Yes, it’s admirable that unlike Fisher Stevens, who never missed an opportunity to grab some camera time in his chummier portrait of David, Hallgren recognizes the stars of the show. Yet by allowing the Beckhams to do all the talking, she never truly gets under their skin. Victoria briefly mentions battling an eating disorder without providing any further details, for example. And confessions which should have packed a punch—“I suppose there was an element of attention seeking,” she remarks about her mid-’00s phase as a WAG. “It’s how I stayed in the conversation”—are glossed over all too quickly.
In fact, it’s David who turns out to be the most useful inquisitor, a closing lakeside chat in which he turns armchair psychologist prompting Victoria to assess her true motivations. “I’ve spent so many years fighting and building that I feel now I really have an opportunity, and I don’t want to let that slip,” she declares with defiance. It’s an approach which has clearly worked wonders in her profession, but sadly not one particularly conducive to a supposed tell-all doc. Although this intermittently entertaining but ultimately fluffy affair provides a deeper understanding of Victoria Beckham the fashion label, Victoria Beckham the person remains something of an enigma.
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