Spoiler Alert: This review discusses significant plot points and reveals from the documentary.
***/*****
Cast: Yo Yo Honey Singh, Salman Khan (Guest appearance)
Director: Mozez Singh
Platform: Available on Netflix now
Chasing dreams amidst the heights of unprecedented fame, yet battling personal demons and unrelenting media trials, Yo Yo Honey Singh’s life offers a deeply engrossing story for a documentary.
The 80-minute Netflix feature, Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous, produced by Sikhya Entertainment and directed by Mozez Singh, captures the whirlwind journey of the rapper and music producer with the flair, drama, and emotional depth of a cinematic spectacle, but, while the documentary capitalises on the sheer richness of Singh’s life story, it occasionally misses opportunities for deeper exploration, especially when tackling his most contentious moments.
From his humble beginnings as an underground music producer, fuelled by a desire to escape the monotony of middle-class frugality, to his meteoric rise and tumultuous fall, the film captures the two-decade journey of a man navigating fame’s punishing highs and lows. The opening scene sets the tone with an intimate glimpse into Singh’s youth, showing him in casual conversation with his family. Later, he revisits a neighbourhood dhaba, nostalgically recalling how he used to arrive first on foot, then by cycle, later on a scooter, and finally in his car—an evocative metaphor for his rise to fame.
With unfiltered access to Singh’s family, friends, and collaborators, the documentary endeavours to unravel the mind and music of the West Delhi lad who became a global sensation. Deepa Bhatia’s editing lends the narrative a frenetic energy, mirroring the topsy-turvy trajectory of Singh’s life. However, the film falters when addressing the darker, more controversial aspects of his career, often skating over issues that demand more profound interrogation.
Singh’s controversies take centre stage at key moments, but the treatment is uneven. For instance, the documentary touches on the backlash his music received following the 2012 Nirbhaya incident, with critics accusing him of perpetuating misogyny. In interviews, Singh dismisses responsibility for the lyrics, claiming he didn’t write them, and shrugs off the idea of regret, citing audience preference for his style. Such deflections leave a void where introspection or accountability might have offered richer insight. Similarly, the legal restrictions surrounding his divorce and domestic violence allegations render those revelations limited to public knowledge, teasing depth but ultimately retreating.
Yet, the film doesn’t shy away from exposing Singh’s struggles with bipolar disorder and the impact of his breakdown during the infamous 2014 SLAM tour, where he withdrew midway through. His candour about the seven-year hiatus that followed, marked by mental health battles and shifting industry landscapes, offers glimpses of vulnerability and resilience. These raw moments stand out, such as when Singh reflects on the allure of death during his darkest times or shares his apprehensions about his “comeback.”
However, the film’s authenticity stumbles in subtle but telling ways. Singh’s real name, Hirdesh Singh, is conspicuously absent, reducing his story to the persona of Yo Yo Honey Singh. The narrative, while vibrant, leans heavily on his triumphant return to the mainstream, often glossing over the self-adulation that complicates his legacy.
The documentary’s most poignant scenes, however, are where it allows viewers to be unobtrusive observers: witnessing the unconditional love of his family, the vulnerable look on Singh’s face when critiquing a lacklustre Bollywood track, and the unfiltered emotion as he describes his mental health struggles. “I went to hell and back,” he says, recounting the debilitating effects of bipolar disorder with harrowing detail. These moments are as enlightening as they are disconcerting, showing the human side of an artist often hidden behind his star persona.
The whirlwind pace of Singh’s life is reflected in the film’s high-energy momentum, echoing the relentless demands of his career—three to four shows a day, minimal breaks, and the unyielding pressure of fame. Yet, amid the chaos, themes of family, fame, and identity emerge with clarity.
The documentary concludes with Singh expressing his drive to continue creating for the fans who never forgot him, despite his absence from the limelight. Yet, his ambition of working alongside Dr Dre—an artist similarly accused of violence against women—raises questions about the inclusivity of his “comeback.” Does his dedication to his fans extend beyond his male audience, or is it reflective of a narrow perspective shaped by the very controversies the film skirts around?
Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous is as dizzying as it is entertaining, a sensory overload that mirrors the artist’s tumultuous life. While it doesn’t answer every question it raises, it offers a compelling, albeit imperfect, look at a man whose journey is as controversial as it is extraordinary.
