Netflix released “aka Charlie Sheen” on Sept. 10, a two-part documentary that tracks the actor’s rise, many falls and a sober rebuild that he says now defines his life.
Director Andrew Renzi shapes the story through new interviews, archival footage and a look at fame under the bright lights. This brings a darker shadow to Sheen’s past issues and Renzi leans into that premise.
As someone who grew up loving “Two and a Half Men,” this documentary had a unique impact on me. I always saw Charlie Sheen as the ultimate sitcom star, the guy who made me laugh. Seeing him open up about his own personal demons changed that image in ways I did not expect.
Renzi assembles Sheens’s ex-wife Denise Richards, former partner Brooke Mueller, longtime friends Sean Penn and Chris Tucker and “Two and a Half Men” co-star Jon Cryer.
Renzi also sits down with Marco, a dealer who knew Sheen during the worst years. Sheen’s father Martin Sheen and brother, Emilio Estevez, do not appear by choice, a decision Renzi and Sheen both explain as support for Charlie’s wish to tell his own story without putting his family back through old pain.
Sheen speaks on camera with a level of detail that he once kept private.
“The stuff that I plan on sharing, I had made a sacred vow years ago to only reveal to a therapist,” Sheen said.
Renzi said he spent months building trust before the cameras rolled so the conversations could go deeper than headlines.
For years, I thought Sheen’s public meltdowns were just part of his wild persona. Now, it feels like those moments were cries for help that most of us, myself included, laughed off.
The documentary spends time on the cost of shame and the pull of spectacle, and Sheen does not dodge any of it.
“Shame is suffocating,” Sheen says, a moment where the film lets a simple idea sit without cutaways.
Early in the film, Sheen recalls a drunken honeymoon flight in the 1990s that ended with a starstruck cockpit inviting him forward.
“I am there drunk, with close to 300 people asleep behind me, an angry bride 20 feet behind me, and I start guiding this plane,” he says, before crediting a quick-thinking copilot with switching on autopilot.
This was a wild story to hear from Sheen, especially when paired with a clear admission that danger sat close by.
The film revisits a 1990 intervention that recalls a surprise call from actor Clint Eastwood that pushed him toward rehab.
“He said something to the effect of, ‘You gotta get the train back on the tracks. Kid, you are worth saving’,” Sheen recalled.
Family and friends, including Emilio Estevez and Rob Lowe, surround him, showing how far his circle went to reach him.
I never imagined Eastwood being the voice that helped pull Sheen back. It made me realize how many people cared about him when the rest of us were watching.
Renzi does not reduce the story to addiction alone. Sheen talks for the first time on camera about sex with men during drug-fueled years, and he frames it as liberation rather than scandal.
The film situates those chapters in a four-decade career. It tracks early breaks in Sheen’s films, such as “Platoon” and “Wall Street,” then jumps to record television paydays and the meltdown that led to his 2011 firing from “Two and a Half Men.”
It also notes a later reconciliation with creator Chuck Lorre and a 2023 appearance in Bookie, illustrating how relationships can mend when the work changes.
Seeing that reconciliation with Lorre gave me hope. As someone who loved the show, I always wished they could put their differences aside. Knowing they did makes me appreciate Sheen’s growth even more.
The documentary lands alongside “The Book of Sheen,” a memoir that arrived on Sept. 9 and extends several stories that the film introduces.
“My stories have been told for far too long through the eyes and pens of others,” Sheen says in the rollout. “I think you will agree, it is time to finally read these stories directly from the actual guy.”
The book and the film create a one-two punch that fuels a wider round of interviews and public reflection.
Early reactions focus on the tension between blunt testimony and Sheen’s willingness to open up about everything.
Variety highlights how the film lets Sheen push into taboo subjects with startling candor, while The Hollywood Reporter calls the viewing “both reflective and exhausting in a way that matches the subject.”
Audience chatter has centered on the film’s structure and on Cryer’s opening line about hoping the project does not go bad. That mix of empathy and caution defines the viewing experience.
Renzi and Sheen close on a quieter register. The camera returns to small rooms and direct language rather than victory laps.
Renzi says he entered the celebrity documentary space because a flawed subject can teach more than a tidy hero, and Sheen seems to agree.
The film does not offer forgiveness. It offers a record for a figure who once turned into a headline machine by choice and by chaos, that feels like the point.
In the end, it reminds us that redemption is not guaranteed, but honesty can still matter.
