In Whose Name? 2025 Movie Review
In Whose Name? unfolds over six years of access to Kanye West (aka “Ye”) through the eyes of Nico Ballesteros, who starts filming when he is just eighteen. What Ballesteros captures is not a polished, mediated celebrity portrait but something much more raw: the intersections of ambition, creation, identity, collapse, and faith as they swirl in Ye’s life.
From the outset, the film impresses with its commitment to unflinching documentation. Over 3,000 hours of footage were gathered, which gives the director an opportunity to let scenes breathe in ways that usual celebrity bios simply cannot. There are long, uncomfortable silences. There are moments of charisma, of inspiration, of studio sessions and high energy. But also of strain: the tensions within Ye’s mind, his personal relationships, his mounting public criticism, challenges with bipolar disorder, and the ways in which fame and creative expectations become a kind of crucible.
One of the documentary’s greatest strengths is its honesty. For instance, there are scenes in which Ye admits to being off his medication, conversations with family (including Kim Kardashian), and moments in which his personality seems to shift in ways that are hard to reconcile with the public persona. These give the film emotional weight, and make it more than just another “celebrity expose.” The portrayal of mental illness—its unpredictability, its effect on relationships, creative output, and self-perception—is among the more moving and empathetic in recent documentary work.
Visually and stylistically, the film leans into a vérité style. There is little gloss here. The editing does not always camouflage the awkwardness of life—nor should it. You can see the fissures, the contradictions: a visionary artist striving for godlike influence and empire-building, yet deeply vulnerable; confident in public, fragile in private; embracing religious themes while also navigating fame’s temptations and follies. These contrasts are what make the film engaging. The pacing is uneven, as is to be expected given how sprawling the material is, but that unevenness often works in favor of showing Ye’s volatility.
However, the documentary is not without its flaws, and some viewers may find certain elements frustrating. First, while there is tremendous access, the film sometimes feels overloaded. Because it aims to cover so much—career, controversies, creative projects, mental health, politics, family life—there are moments where depth is sacrificed for breadth. Some arcs feel less resolved than you might expect: for example, the transitions between different public controversies or interpersonal conflicts sometimes lack explanatory bridges; you are dropped into a moment without always enough context, or perhaps without enough follow-up. This can leave viewers—especially those less familiar with Ye’s biography—in a bit of disorientation.
Another issue is external framing: the film centers almost entirely on Ye’s perspective and those close to him. Critics, observers, and those he has clashed with are less present. This is not necessarily a problem—Ballesteros is making a personal chronicle—but the lack of more critical distance means that certain controversial statements or actions are shown, but not always interrogated from multiple angles. This choice gives the film intimacy, but possibly at the cost of full accountability. Some choices feel like they lean into Ye’s self-justifications rather than fully challenging them. Viewers who expect a hard-hitting journalistic exposé might feel that the documentary is sometimes too close, too sympathetic.
On the other hand, that closeness is also its purpose and its power. By being so embedded, the film allows one to feel the tension of making art under enormous pressure, the contradictions between private life and public persona, the cost of being seen. For example, scenes in Ye’s childhood home in Chicago are used to reflect on memory, identity, loss, and the gap between where someone came from and where they are—physically and emotionally far removed, but still haunted by roots.
The thematic core of In Whose Name? revolves around questions of identity, faith, power, mental health, and the struggle to maintain authenticity in the face of fame. The title itself suggests inquiry: in whose name do we worship? Whose name does Ye live by—his own, God’s, the marketplace’s? The documentary doesn’t try to answer firmly; it prefers tension to resolution. And for many viewers this is satisfying, because real lives rarely come with neat tidy endings. The film invites empathy even where disagreement is inevitable.
But sometimes the ambiguity can feel like evasion. Because there is so much Ye does publicly—sometimes provocative, conflicting, divisive—the choice to show and document rather than analyze can feel like tacit acceptance or avoidance. The moral and social implications of certain statements or actions are sometimes left in the air. Whether that is intentional humility or a directorial weakness depends on what you expect from documentaries. If you want a film that also holds its subject accountable, this may leave you wanting.
Ultimately, In Whose Name? is neither perfect nor casual. It is a documentary that dares to be messy because its subject is messy. For viewers willing to engage with complexity, it offers a lot: rare behind-the-scenes looks, emotional highs and lows, creative fervor, personal struggles, and a portrait of a man who is at once larger than life and entirely human. It is especially strong for people interested in the intersection of art and mental health, or in how enormous creative pressure shapes identity.
For some though, its very strengths will also be its frustrations: its uneven pacing, its occasional lack of framing, its reluctance to critique. Yet, shaping all of that together, the film succeeds in giving a wake-up call: fame is not just light and glory—it is shadow as well. It asks: To what extent can the audience claim to “know” someone whose public image is mediated, curated, and yet so deeply flawed? And perhaps it asks more importantly: when we say someone is ours—our icon, our inspiration—whose story are we really telling?
Final Verdict: In Whose Name? is a compelling, absorbing documentary with rare access and emotional resonance. It doesn’t answer all the questions, and it’s not always easy or comfortable to watch, but it’s important. It offers a view into Kanye West that is more vulnerable, more fraught, more real than much of what has come before. If you are interested in music, celebrity, mental health, or the costs of vision, this is a film worth seeing—even if it leaves you with more questions than certainties.
