Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy 2025 Movie Review
It’s been a few years since the catastrophic events at Travis Scott’s Astroworld Festival on November 5, 2021, where 10 attendees lost their lives and countless others were injured in a crowd crush. The negative impact of the event hasn’t dissipated—but you wouldn’t know it from the even more astronomical success Scott has had since, or from the continued lucrative partnership between concert promoter Live Nation and the rap superstar.
This event kicks off Netflix’s eight-episode documentary series, Trainwreck, beginning with Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy. Each installment runs feature-length, and The Astroworld Tragedy is the only music-focused episode. Dropping weekly on Tuesdays, it’s followed by “Mayor of Mayhem,” “Poop Cruise,” “The Cult of American Apparel,” “The Real Project X,” “P.I. Moms” and “Storm Area 51.” What they share is a headline-making disaster at their core. You may the streamer’s popular Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 from 2022.
The Astroworld episode blends investigation with first-person storytelling from concertgoers, balanced by input from a Billboard journalist, a festival safety expert, EMTs, and security personnel. Extensive footage from fans’ phones, festival cameras, and professional photographers provides a comprehensive firsthand view. As visceral as the footage is, the shaky, chaotic camera angles are difficult to watch—yet they help convey what it was like to be in that crowd. Between the visuals and the commentary from participants, the film gives a strong sense of presence, including a palpable claustrophobia made worse by the screams for help and a harrowing 911 call.
Nothing feels staged in the film’s accounts. The subjects are honest, even when it doesn’t reflect well on them. As the documentary progresses, it becomes harder for concertgoers to recount their experiences as they relive the trauma. A female photographer whose livelihood depends on Live Nation risks her career by speaking out. One attendee who climbed onto the camera platform to plead for the show to stop—joined by another concertgoer—was ignored. His friend Bri was among those who died. Rudy, seen early in the film dancing with friends in anticipation of the show, also lost his life. When his mother and friends speak, the heartbreak is unmistakable.
One of the few uplifting moments comes when a concertgoer who suffered cardiac arrest reunites with the nurse who saved him at the scene.
But any relief is short-lived. A computer simulation showing how the crowd surged toward Scott’s stage makes the tragedy all the more horrifying. The documentary notes Scott’s history of hyping up crowds, and how easily that can cross the line into incitement. Still, the cause of the crush wasn’t what Scott did—it was what he didn’t do. His lack of awareness and inaction played a role. Post-event, social media did an effective job deflecting blame from Live Nation. One prevailing narrative is that Scott became a scapegoat, helping Live Nation avoid scrutiny.
So who was responsible? No authorities involved in Astroworld appear in the documentary. The wrongful death lawsuits have been settled, but not all injury claims have. Scott and Live Nation face no criminal charges. Yet when the security expert walks through what happened—backed by hard numbers, logistical breakdowns, and textual evidence from the day—it’s hard not to assign blame.
In the end, the courts concluded, “No individual was criminally responsible.” Live Nation and Scott declined to participate in the film. In a way, their absence is a relief. Viewers are spared more hollow apologies, like the one Scott posted to social media the day after the event. A brief clip from his interview with Charlamagne Tha God, aired a month later, shows a lack of contrition and a refusal to take responsibility.
The documentary concludes with stark title cards: In 2024, Scott had the highest-grossing solo rap tour of all time, produced by Live Nation. Live Nation issued a written statement defending the festival’s safety.
