Untold Raygun: Breaking Badly is now streaming on Netflix after its September 1, 2026 OTT release. The documentary turns the most mocked routine of the Paris Olympics into a warm, uncomfortable story about what happens when the internet flattens a person into a punchline. Rachael Gunn is open, funny and painfully self-aware; the film is strongest when it lets that humanity challenge the meme. Our rating: 3.5/5.
The film finds a person inside the viral clip
Everybody saw the kangaroo move. Far fewer people had to endure what followed. Breaking Badly understands that gap, and it makes the documentary less a defence of Gunn’s Olympic score than an account of sudden, global humiliation.
The Paris 2024 routine is still the unavoidable centre of the story. Gunn finished the group stage without a point, while her creative approach looked startlingly out of place beside the power and precision of the elite field. The film does not need to pretend otherwise. Gunn herself can acknowledge how badly the competitive moment went, which gives the documentary room to ask a more interesting question: did a poor performance justify the scale and cruelty of what followed?
That is where Gunn becomes such a compelling subject. She does not arrive as a polished victim delivering perfectly measured lines. She can be awkward, delighted, embarrassed and sharp within the same stretch of conversation. Her husband, Sam, gives the story a second emotional viewpoint, helping the film move beyond the public footage into the private shock of watching a strange Olympic day become a permanent identity.
Breaking Badly is at its best when the joke stops being funny
The documentary’s most effective material tracks the backlash as it grows from sporting ridicule into something uglier. Memes become conspiracy claims. Criticism of the routine becomes hostility toward Gunn as a person. The volume matters because it explains why this was not simply an athlete learning to accept defeat. It was a woman discovering that strangers across the world had made her face shorthand for failure.
Breaking Badly wisely keeps some humour. A film about Raygun that treated every strange detail with grave solemnity would feel dishonest. Gunn and Sam are charismatic together, and their willingness to laugh gives the documentary lift without erasing the mental-health toll. The tonal balance is the film’s real victory: it can admit that the routine looked bizarre on the Olympic stage and still insist that the human response to it became wildly disproportionate.
This makes the documentary a useful companion to Netflix’s broader Untold catalogue. Like our review of Untold UK: Vinnie Jones, it is interested in the collision between sport and public persona. Raygun’s case is more immediate and more internet-shaped. Her celebrity was not built gradually; it arrived like an ambush.
Where the documentary pulls its punches
The film includes Australian breakers Tinylocks and Flix, whose comments bring some friction to Gunn’s version of events. That tension is important. Raygun’s ordeal cannot be understood only as an innocent individual versus a cruel internet. Her Olympic selection also landed on a young sport trying to introduce itself to a global audience, and other breakers had strong feelings about the performance and the attention it attracted.
Breaking Badly acknowledges that conflict, but its emotional destination is always Gunn’s recovery. That focus produces a generous portrait, not a complete audit of how Australian breaking handled qualification, representation and the aftermath. Viewers looking for a forensic investigation of the selection system or a wide history of the scene may find the film too narrow.
It is a defensible choice because Gunn’s experience is already large enough for one documentary. Still, a little more space for the community around her would have sharpened the film’s central contradiction: she was both the target of grotesque online abuse and the accidental face of an Olympic debut that many breakers felt misrepresented their art.
Should you watch Untold Raygun: Breaking Badly?
Yes, especially if you remember the meme but never considered what came after it. The documentary is accessible even if you know little about competitive breaking. Its real subject is not judging technique; it is the speed with which online spectators can turn one vulnerable moment into a person’s entire public identity.
Sports-documentary fans will find a familiar underdog shape, but Gunn’s warmth keeps it from feeling generic. The film does not prove that her Olympic routine was secretly brilliant. It does something more credible by showing that competitive failure and personal dignity can exist at the same time. For the rest of this week’s India streaming slate, see our OTT releases guide for August 31 to September 6.
Final verdict
Untold Raygun: Breaking Badly is a lively, compassionate reclamation of a story the internet thought it already understood. Its empathy sometimes comes at the expense of a wider examination of Australian breaking, but Gunn’s candour and the film’s control of tone make it an affecting watch. It cannot take the meme back. It can, however, put a recognisable human being where the punchline used to be.