In a world where rock music has often been declared dead and revived in cycles, few bands have shaken the modern scene quite like Måneskin. The Italian quartet — consisting of Damiano David, Victoria De Angelis, Thomas Raggi, and Ethan Torchio — have rewritten what it means to be a rock band in the twenty-first century. Their rise from Roman street performers to global icons is nothing short of cinematic, so it feels only fitting that Netflix has captured their story in its latest documentary. The film, simply titled Måneskin: This Is Us, is more than a behind-the-scenes look; it’s an electrifying exploration of fame, rebellion, love, and the price of artistic freedom. Released this week, the documentary has already sent fans and critics into a frenzy, solidifying Måneskin’s place not just as chart-toppers but as cultural disruptors.
From the very first frame, the documentary grips viewers with raw energy — the same energy that defines every Måneskin performance. There’s no glossy PR filter here, no attempt to sanitize the chaos that comes with being one of the world’s biggest rock bands. Instead, the camera follows the group through hotel corridors, backstage halls, recording studios, and sleepless nights in tour buses, giving fans an unfiltered look at the highs and lows of their journey. The documentary opens with archival footage from their early days in Rome, where four ambitious teenagers busked on Via del Corso, performing covers to small crowds and dreaming of something bigger. That footage alone feels surreal when juxtaposed with shots of them playing stadiums packed with tens of thousands of screaming fans.
The beauty of the Netflix film lies in its honesty. Måneskin are not portrayed as perfect rock gods; they’re seen as young people navigating sudden fame, creative tension, and the weight of being labeled “the saviors of rock.” Damiano, the magnetic frontman known for his fierce stage presence and unapologetic style, speaks candidly about how fame reshaped his sense of self. “It’s strange,” he says in one emotional interview. “You want to live your dream, but once you’re inside it, you realize it comes with shadows you never imagined.” That quote sets the tone for much of the documentary — an exploration of identity and authenticity in a world that constantly demands spectacle.
Victoria De Angelis, the band’s bassist and co-founder, emerges as the heart of the story. Her determination, defiance, and artistic vision are palpable in every scene. Viewers see her leading creative discussions, challenging producers, and pushing the band to stay true to their sound. She reflects on her role as a woman in rock — a space that has historically been dominated by men — and how Måneskin’s success has allowed her to break barriers for others. Her friendship with Damiano is also given special focus, portrayed as both powerful and fragile, built on years of mutual trust and artistic connection. Thomas Raggi and Ethan Torchio, though quieter personalities, provide emotional grounding and musical backbone, revealing moments of introspection that deepen the group dynamic. It’s a reminder that Måneskin’s power lies not just in individual charisma but in the unbreakable bond they share as a unit.
The documentary traces their meteoric rise from the moment they stunned audiences at the 2021 Eurovision Song Contest with their explosive performance of “Zitti e buoni.” That night changed everything. The win wasn’t just a victory for Italy — it was a cultural shockwave. Suddenly, Måneskin were thrust into the global spotlight, their music streaming in dozens of countries, their faces appearing on magazine covers, and their unapologetic aesthetic sparking conversations about gender fluidity, rock revivalism, and self-expression. The Netflix cameras follow the whirlwind that came after — the record deals, the sold-out tours, the award shows, and the unrelenting pressure to live up to the myth they had created.
But what makes the film powerful is how it refuses to glorify fame. For every glittering moment of success, there’s a counterpoint of exhaustion, doubt, or loneliness. We see Damiano breaking down after a show, overwhelmed by the constant scrutiny. We watch Victoria navigating burnout, trying to find balance between her private life and the endless demands of touring. Ethan speaks about the mental toll of being away from home for months, while Thomas struggles with the fear of creative stagnation. These confessions give the documentary a rare intimacy that few music films achieve. The glamour fades, but what remains is something deeper — a portrait of artists who, despite everything, still believe in the transformative power of rock and roll.
Director Chiara Moretti, who helmed the project, deserves immense credit for the authenticity of her approach. She doesn’t rely on overproduced montages or voiceovers. Instead, she lets the band tell their own story through unfiltered conversations, candid footage, and moments of silence that speak volumes. The cinematography mirrors Måneskin’s duality — gritty handheld shots of backstage chaos contrast beautifully with sweeping visuals of their performances, drenched in light, sweat, and adrenaline. The editing is rhythmic, almost musical, moving between moments of chaos and calm with the precision of a live concert setlist.
One particularly memorable segment captures the making of their hit album Rush!, showing the creative tension that fueled their growth. The scenes are charged with artistic friction — arguments over lyrics, debates about sound direction, moments of frustration when ideas clash. Yet through it all, there’s an underlying current of respect and shared vision. The band’s mantra, “Be yourself, but louder,” echoes through the documentary as both a creative philosophy and a personal creed. It’s what has made Måneskin so magnetic — their refusal to conform, their insistence on pushing boundaries, and their unapologetic celebration of individuality.
