Netflix documentary review: Arnold Schwarzeneggers story as a bodybuilder, Hollywood movie st

While there are not many new revelations for fans of this 188cm (6ft 2in) embodiment of the American dream, Schwarzenegger’s story, propelled by his drive, charisma and candour, makes Arnold enthralling viewing.

Most people will be aware of the broad strokes of Schwarzenegger’s career. He first achieved international recognition as Mr Universe, winning 13 world bodybuilding championships before transitioning into acting.

He had a bumpy start because of his thick, unshakeable accent and huge physique, but became one of the biggest action stars of the 1980s. By the early ’90s he was the most successful star on the planet thanks to hits like Twins, Terminator 2: Judgment Day and True Lies.

After undergoing life-saving heart surgery in 1997, he was forced to step away from acting. True to form, Schwarzenegger quickly bounced back, shifting gears once more to US politics.

Without any prior experience, he was elected Governor of California in 2003 where, over two terms, he secured the passage of significant education, transport and environmental legislation that transformed the state.

Each episode – titled “Athlete”, “Actor” and “American” respectively – focuses on one of these different iterations.

In addition to Schwarzenegger’s own recollections, recorded at his vast mountainous retreat, where he surrounds himself with farm animals, there are interviews with his chief of staff Susan Kennedy, James Cameron, Jamie Lee Curtis, long-time rival Sylvester Stallone, and even former British prime minister David Cameron.

Notably absent, however, are his own family, not least Maria Shriver, Schwarzenegger’s wife of 35 years and a member of the prominent Kennedy family.

It would appear no topic was off-limits during these interviews. Schwarzenegger addresses claims of sexual harassment that surfaced when he was campaigning for governor, as well as the revelation that he sired an illegitimate son in secret with his long-time housekeeper.

He is quick to admit to these faults, displaying remorse while also vowing to learn from his mistakes.

No doubt his answers have been carefully prepared and sculpted during production, but they nevertheless play into the same singular narrative that has propelled him to such extraordinary heights: that nothing is out of reach.

“Be useful” was seemingly the only advice passed down by his father, a World War II veteran who fought for the Nazis and returned a broken man, prone to violent, drunken outbursts.

On more than one occasion Schwarzenegger claims that his mind works differently to those of most people, and that his hunger to succeed and prove his naysayers wrong was what saw him turn his attention to bodybuilding – perhaps the most literal interpretation of self-improvement – and on to America and ultimately the world stage.

There is no denying that Arnold is an idealising biography. The ageing Schwarzenegger, sitting in his hot tub, sucking on a cheap cigar, is still the same poser and performer who stripped down to a Speedo, smeared himself in baby oil and flexed before fawning crowds.

He remains as gregarious and active as ever, and the show makes it difficult for us not to fall for his charms. Regardless of his personal failings, Schwarzenegger is an immigrant who came to America and transformed it, excelling at every industry he engaged with and paving the way for future generations.

This is the version of Schwarzenegger the documentary wants us to remember, an individual who may be only human but remains a truly remarkable specimen.

Arnold will start streaming on Netflix on June 7.

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