Netflix's 'Untold: The Liver King' Is So Gross, So Stupid, and So Revealing

You learn pretty much everything you need to know about Brian Johnson, the self-styled Liver King, in the first two minutes of this Netflix documentary. Johnson, with his long beard and hyper-muscular physique that looks uncomfortable to inhabit, is filming a skit involving his goons dressed as various forms of food. After interrogating them all, he forces the one in a soda can outfit to run, then he fires his exceedingly large gun at him and causes an explosion. One hanger-on then quotes the ‘never go full r*****’ scene from Tropic Thunder. It’s so precise a portrayal of the cult of alpha manhood that has poisoned our culture that I’m tempted to end the film there and go about my day. But, of course, Untold: The Liver King is here to tell us what everyone knew: this dude is a scammer.

Johnson was a fitness influencer who claimed that he only ate raw meat and animal organs. If you wanted to get his body, then, as he bellowed down the camera of his phone, you had to adopt an ‘ancestral lifestyle.’ That largely means hating women and eating an absurd amount of testicles. And penises. Not vaginas though. If you ever thought that Andrew Tate would be improved by wearing fur and munching on bull d*ck, the Liver King was your man. And it was all 100% natural. No steroids here. Well, we all know where this is going, right?

Untold: The Liver King is the portrait of an influencer as an abject moron. And hoo boy is this man stupid. He offers quotes of Spinal Tap-esque hilarity. One of his sons is called Rad Ical. He brags about how he orgasmed for the first time while bench-pressing. There’s a genuine sense of wonder in his voice when he realizes that playing an Instagram video over and over means you get more views. And it never stops looking ridiculous, watching this jerk rip off chunks of liver with his teeth and brag about how it’s made him the healthiest man alive.

It’s tempting to watch this and compare to Bryan Johnson (do they all have to have this name?), the clammy-faced tech bro who is determined to live forever and is eagerly selling his snake oil to the masses. That Johnson was the subject of his own Netflix documentary, Don’t Die, which showed the tedium of his futile endeavour. He is trying to position himself as being in on the joke but also serious about his project to not die. Both men are figures of subterfuge and delusion, but the liver Johnson is so astonishingly dumb that you can’t help but wonder if he’s an extended Nathan Fielder bit. Where sweaty Johnson cloaks his obsession in data and experimentation, liver Johnson is just screaming pure bullsh*t into the camera and steamrolling through reason. And it’s gross. So damn gross. If you can get through this documentary without gagging or panicking about salmonella, then you’re a stronger person than I am.

What both men also have in common is a savvy understanding of the power of influencer culture and self-promotion. The social media marketing company he hired talks about making his daft message palatable in bite-sized chunks for the attention economy. That largely means lots of footage of him shooting things, screaming about estrogen in perfume, and munching on testicles like they’re apples. Of course he went viral. It’s a circus sideshow with a supplements shop attached. And, yes, Logan Paul is somehow involved in all of this. ‘Polarizing stories win,’ says the marketing guru.

How much of it is fake? All of it. Everyone who wasn’t swallowing his nonsense wholesale thought he was on steroids. ‘I’m surprised by how many people believe this bullsh*t,’ says one YouTube skeptic. Even Joe f*cking Rogan thinks he’s a liar about being steroid-free. Imagine being dunked on by that dude! It’s not primal to be on ‘roids, dude. So, how much gear was the liver king on? Try close to $12,000 a month worth of it. That’s more than most bodybuilders. None of this should have been shocking to anyone with a shred of knowledge on how biology works. But people were shocked, including members of his own team whom he’d lied to personally.

What makes it sad is how he’s roped his kids into the scam. Johnson’s sons, whom he describes as ‘weak’, eat 15 raw eggs a day and do intense workouts that seem ill-suited to young men their age. When one of them broke his leg, he didn’t tell his parents, something his mother spins as a positive because he was ‘tough’ enough to not ask for pain medication. When Rad Ical and Stryker ‘the barbarian’ repeat their parents’ propaganda, you can’t ignore how the light has gone from their eyes. In one scene, after they kill a bull, Johnson instructs his kids to eat its still-warm organs on the spot. He gets sad about his own daddy issues and insecurities with no self-awareness of the vicious cycle he’s keeping alive through his own children.

Untold: The Liver King is a tight 70 minutes, a rarity for a Netflix original. There is room to go further on the topics of toxic masculinity, however. I wish there had been more on the ways in which Johnson’s ilk preyed upon the insecurities many men and boys feel about their bodies. Johnson looks awful, so overloaded with bulk but with a distinct lack of dedication to leg day, and abs that look like they were sculpted by putty. But this is the ideal male physique for so many, a parody of manhood with a high price tag attached to it. Exploiting the oft-overlooked struggles of boys and men and pushing them into the pipeline of hard-right radicalisation is a topic that needs way more time than is available here. As such, this film keeps most of Johnson’s actions —a blend of quackery, toxic gym culture, and fake spirituality— separate from the ecosystem he contributed to.

The thing about scammers is that, even at their most blatant, it’s easy for many to be sucked into the dream and invest so much belief in something that can never work. Scams are most effective when they latch onto the struggles and self-doubt of others. You’re dealing with health issues? You’re uncomfortable in your body? You feel like the world is passing you by? You could accept that there are no easy solutions to these feelings and deal with a long-term change to your life, or you could buy the snake oil because the shiny lie is so dreamy that perhaps you could absorb some of that glow if you put enough money down. Say something with enough conviction and someone will believe it.

Johnson is now googling the definition of ‘atonement’ and figuring out his future. He still wants to sell the fake lifestyle he’s been shilling to the masses (and his own kids.) ‘I love the man that I am now,’ he says, admitting that he’s finally introduced vegetables to his diet. There’s not much space in his addled brain for reflection. Scammers don’t care much for truth. Sure, he was wrong about the carnivore diet, but he’s totally right now about the magic of strawberries and it’s all for sale! At least the E. coli risk is lower.

Untold: The Liver King is available to watch now on Netflix.