"UNTOLD: Raygun — Breaking Badly" Humanizes the Woman Behind the Memes.

Before watching Netflix’s UNTOLD: Raygun — Breaking Badly, I had already formed a negative opinion about Rachael Gunn. Like millions of others, I had seen clips from the 2024 Paris Olympics — the kangaroo hops, the unusual movements, the facial expressions, and all the accompanying memes. Without ever hearing Gunn explain herself, I dismissed her as a culture vulture who somehow made it to the biggest athletic stage in the world.

However, Breaking Badly forced me to reconsider that assessment. Nobody, not even Gunn, expected her Olympic appearance to become an international punchline. Once her performance went viral, the internet did what it does best: memes turned into misinformation, and misinformation evolved into conspiracy theories. Suddenly, people weren’t just questioning her performance; they were scrutinizing how she qualified, whether the process was legitimate, and in some cases, if Gunn had somehow manipulated the entire system.

The documentary succeeds by finally letting Gunn speak for herself instead of reducing her to a fifteen-second clip on someone’s social media timeline. This doesn’t mean we should ignore the broader conversation surrounding breakdancing, however. Breaking originated in Black and Latino communities in the Bronx during the 1970s, and that cultural history is significant.

My own introduction to breakdancing came through films; I first remember seeing it in the 1984 classic “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo”. Over time, I learned more about the culture, the music, and the athleticism involved. Breaking is an art form, so when I first watched Gunn’s Olympic routine, something felt off. It seemed less like someone genuinely participating in the culture and more like someone parodying it. Fair or unfair, that was my impression.

What “Breaking Badly” does particularly well is provide the context that those viral clips could never convey. Gunn wasn’t just a random person who woke up one day and decided to breakdance. The documentary reveals her academic background, her involvement in Australia’s breaking community, and the qualification process that led her to Paris.

More importantly, it highlights the emotional cost of becoming globally famous for all the wrong reasons. Netflix’s UNTOLD series continues to excel at presenting stories where the headline people remember is just a fraction of what truly occurred. Breaking Badly is another strong entry in this series; however, I believe it missed an opportunity to broaden the cultural conversation.

Hearing perspectives from legendary breakers like Crazy Legs or Michael “Boogaloo Shrimp” Chambers, or even a newer-generation dance figure like Adam G. Sevani, could have added another layer to the discussion about what Breaking represents and why Gunn’s performance resonated so deeply with so many people.

The documentary doesn’t necessarily convince me that Gunn’s Olympic performance was good; it wasn’t. Nor does it dismiss valid discussions about cultural ownership, representation, or whether Breaking’s Olympic debut received the recognition it deserved.

However, “UNTOLD: Raygun — Breaking Badly” reminded me of something much more important: sometimes the person being roasted online deserves the chance to share their side of the story. After hearing Rachael Gunn tell hers, I may still question her performance, but I no longer question the person herself nearly as much.

Final Grade: B+

"UNTOLD: Raygun — Breaking Badly" is streaming today on Netflix.