Peacock’s Diddy Documentary Isn’t Worth Your Time

I was just a few minutes into watching “Diddy: Making of a Bad Boy,” a hastily put-together documentary from Peacock about Sean “Diddy” Combs, when I wondered whether I should be doing something else with my life.

Some 90 minutes later, those suspicions had been confirmed a couple of times over. (You won, though, Peacock; for you, streaming numbers are all that matters.)

My criticism is not to denigrate any of the people who took the time to try to fill in the details about the upbringing and professional rise of Diddy. The 55-year-old hip-hop mogul is currently being held at Metropolitan Detention Center, a federal jail in Brooklyn, as he awaits trial in May on sex trafficking and racketeering charges.

In a statement to The Hollywood Reporter, a representative for Combs denied all allegations and said, “This documentary recycles and perpetuates the same lies and conspiracy theories that have been slung against Mr. Combs for months.”

It is evident that many of these interview subjects — some who appeared in the documentary in silhouette and with distorted voices — feel they have put their lives at great risk by speaking out. I wish their voices had been featured in a film more thoughtful than this documentary. The crew rushed to put this production together, the producers acknowledged on screen in the film’s opening moments, following Diddy’s arrest last September.

It shows.

The documentary sets itself up with the premise that “monsters are made,” and we hear from various people who have met Combs. One of his childhood friends, Tim Patterson, who apparently now lives “off the grid,” explains how Combs’ father was a “gangster, hustler, player” who allegedly once worked with drug kingpin Nicky Barnes and was later shot dead. Other tidbits include that Diddy was bullied and called bad names.

At that point, I wondered if “Making of a Bad Boy” is nothing more than a Wikipedia page with pictures and sound. (Seriously, did we need a rundown of his intern duties at Uptown Records in the ’90s?)

To be fair, there are some interesting parts in the film. Patterson shares later on that Combs’ mom, Janice Combs, hosted wild parties at her home, exposing him and Combs to sex, drugs and so on. He acknowledges that seeing such antics at a young age was desensitizing. Even if viewers might scream “Duh!” internally at that, the film did not focus on this point enough.

Similarly, it’s not often that we see R&B singer Al B. Sure! on our screens — much less get to hear him mention the years-long rumors about himself and Kim Porter, the ex he shares with Combs. However, the producers of this documentary should have waited until Mr. “Night and Day” could speak more freely.

“There’s legal proceedings going on right now,” said Al B. Sure!, born Albert Joseph Brown III. “I will speak on it someday.”

The same can be said of Ashley Parham, who was identified by first name only in the documentary. She filed suit against Diddy in October 2024 after he allegedly held a knife to her throat and gang-raped her. Her face may have been shielded and her voice cartoonishly distorted, but her fear while describing her alleged abuse was palpable.

The same can be said about Sara Rivers, a member of Da Band, a hip-hop group created on MTV’s “Making The Band.” She claimed that after Combs touched her inappropriately once while she wasalone in a room with him, she never wanted to be around him without the cameras on.

And for what it’s worth, she’s right to invite audiences to revisit the infamous “cheesecake scene” on “Making The Band” and see that as evidence of his controlling behavior.

It’s a shame that there weren’t enough examples like that in “Diddy: Making of a Bad Boy.”

These moments, haunting as they are, speak to the severity of Combs’ alleged crimes. Instead, we get mostly filler content and — near the end of the documentary — pure spectacle, by way of conspiracy theories.

It’s one thing for a bodyguard to share that Combsonce cussed out his mama; it’s another to blanket audiences with claimsthat he killed Tupac Shakur, The Notorious B.I.G., Andre Harrell and Heavy D. The documentary doesn’t provide any evidence to support those allegations.

The producers must’ve not considered the pain these rappers’respective families might feel learning that their loved ones had been invoked in such a way.

Lisa Bloom, a civil rights attorney who represents a plaintiff suing Combs, makes comparisons between Combs and Jeffrey Epstein, who was charged with sex trafficking and later died by suicide in jail. The contrast may not seem like much of a reach either, but — like the random murder accusations — they are too serious to be handled so tactlessly.

It’s as if the producers checked the comments section of The Shade Room and decided to fill the last portion of the film with the most salacious accusations.

To wit, when I saw the words of Jaguar Wright — a singer-songwriter who has lobbed several conspiracy theories online — being used to make a point, I accepted that not only is this documentary underwhelming, but it’s also not at all serious.

This is the problem with our content-crazed media climate: There is a rush to piece a film together around any trending topic for the sake of luring as many eyes as possible. I get it in some cases, but not this time.

There will be a documentary that properly tackles Combs and all the monstrosities he’s been accused of, but “Diddy: Making of a Bad Boy”suggests that will — and should — take time.

A four-part ID documentary, “The Fall of Diddy,” is slated to air later this month. In the meantime, find something else to stream.