Real American is positioned as a coda, and as such, it relies heavily on Hogan\u2019s personal bravado. The first three episodes largely focus on the man\u2019s career in the ring, where disbelief is permanently suspended. As a longtime consumer of Hogan\u2019s many embellishments, I immediately identified a few classics. He gestures toward the specious idea that during WrestleMania III\u2019s main event between him and Andre the Giant\u2014perhaps the most iconic wrestling match of all time\u2014he feared that Andre would go off-script, beating him up for real, thus claiming the title for himself. (Hogan has spun this yarn on numerous occasions. It comes off as an attempt to inject belated drama into the soap opera of pro wrestling, now that the cat is out of the bag.) Hogan says something similar about his famous showdown with the Iron Sheik: He claims that, feeling a swell of patriotism, he swarmed the opposing performer as soon as the bell rang\u2014beating him down with rights and lefts, shattering the pantomime, as if Hogan himself transcended the choreographed contrivances of the art form. Nowhere does Real American cross-check these assertions, or even posit the idea that Hogan, immersed in the long tradition of kayfabe, has a penchant for stretching the truth. Instead, we\u2019re all witness to Hogan\u2019s legacy as he remembers\u2014or perhaps imagines\u2014it.<\/p>\n
This is pretty much unavoidable whenever anyone interfaces with the Hulkster. He has his story, and he\u2019s sticking to it. The man is never going to change\u2014he never did change\u2014and honestly, I do find it vaguely charming that Hogan held onto his carny bona fides to the bitter end. (Hogan\u2019s instinctive fabrications are so chronic that they\u2019ve become a meme in wrestling fandom. His most famous whoppers include his insistence that he almost joined Metallica<\/a>, that Elvis Presley\u2014who died in 1977, the same year as Hogan\u2019s first match\u2014was a fan of his<\/a>, and, of course, that he had a 10-inch penis<\/a>.) What is less charming, however, is the attention Real American pays to Hogan\u2019s foibles outside of the squared circle, which are cordoned off to the final episode and carry significantly higher stakes.<\/p>\n It is here where you feel the influence of the WWE\u2019s maneuvering most acutely. The Gawker trial gets a brief segment, starring an interview with Hogan\u2019s trial attorney. The basic facts are quickly summarized: Gawker published a sex tape featuring Hogan and a friend\u2019s wife, and the resulting defamation lawsuit earned him a $140 million verdict. Hogan is offered lots of sympathy: The documentary luxuriates in his agony that young Hulkamaniacs might have seen their hero in a compromising position with one Google search. Left unmentioned, however, is tech billionaire Peter Thiel, who bankrolled Hogan\u2019s litigation in an attempt to exact revenge on a media company he held a personal vendetta against. Thiel would later emerge as one of the nation\u2019s top right-wing political donors. That certainly feels relevant to the saga, especially considering how, minutes later, we\u2019re served footage of Hogan\u2019s address at the 2024 Republican National Convention, and an interview with Donald Trump. How, and why, did Hulk Hogan get conscripted into the culture war toward the end of his life? The documentary doesn\u2019t seem to care.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \n Luke Winkie <\/a><\/p>\n This isn\u2019t sour grapes. I don\u2019t relish recounting Hogan\u2019s sins. The problem, instead, is that, despite being positioned as a career-spanning capstone, Real American simply fails to flesh out the many things that make its subject fascinating. You might remember that another scandal surfaced in conjunction with Hogan\u2019s sex tape. After coitus, he repeatedly uttered a racial slur about the Black man that his daughter, Brooke, who is noticeably absent from Real American, was dating at the time. (Without beating around the bush: Hogan used the N-word multiple times, and reckoned that if Brooke was going to date a Black man, he\u2019d rather have her marry an \u201c8-foot-tall [redacted] worth a hundred million dollars. Like a basketball player.\u201d) The documentary doesn\u2019t quote those remarks, nor even make much of a gesture toward their content. Hogan offers a stiff, noticeably defensive apology (\u201cI got very mad about a personal situation, I used a word\u201d), and the documentary quickly moves on without seeking the perspective of any Black wrestlers in and around the WWE, including those who made their apprehension about Hogan\u2019s cultural rehabilitation abundantly clear<\/a>, and who could offer some valuable introspection on the duality of Hollywood Hogan. If Real American\u2019s stated mission is to explore the nether space that exists between the man\u2019s in-ring persona and his inner life, then beyond any questions of social justice, that\u2019s a straight-up dereliction of narrative duty.<\/p>\n I could go on. Hogan infamously helped Vince McMahon squash a burgeoning unionization effort in the WWE<\/a>, a chapter that is given no airtime in the documentary whatsoever. (This omission is especially flagrant when considering that Jesse Ventura\u2014the chief organizer behind the effort\u2014is liberally quoted throughout the series.) There are endless tales of behind-the-scenes politicking, in which Hogan has been accused of leveraging his position in the locker room to protect his top spot, that are glossed over. (Google \u201cNick Patrick\u201d if you\u2019re curious.) But even within Real American\u2019s accommodating laxness, Hogan\u2019s interiority\u2014a paranoid, vengeful, headstrong man\u2014manages to occasionally shine through. He eagerly buries any wrestler he perceives to be less resonant than him, particularly the technical wiz Bret Hart, whom Hogan once snookered out of a well-deserved title reign. (During one choice segment in the documentary\u2019s four-hour run time, Hart calls Hogan a \u201cbackstabbing, knife-wielding piece of shit.\u201d) The documentary spends some time on Hogan\u2019s gimmicky presidential campaign in 2000, with Hogan telling the cameras, with total earnestness, that he only dropped out because he was afraid he might have won. Relatedly, Hogan recalls his latter-day MAGA turn with satisfied, score-settling aplomb, a chance to claw his way back into the arena on the back of canceled-guy grievance. It might be the single most revealing moment in the documentary.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/il\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/09f3423f-8985-489f-b19c-1b23006c6b02.jpeg\")
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\n Everyone Hated Hulk Hogan When He Died. He Had One Person to Blame.
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