Joe Pearlman, director of Netflix’s Untold: The Liver King, didn’t need more than a moment to realize something was off.
“When I walked in for the first time… the top was off. I could basically see the smell that was coming off the man… and he was all liicking.”
Pearlman said in podcast appearance.
“From that moment on it was like, ‘Okay, how long is this going to take for the performance to crack?’”
It never did. Even after being exposed in a 2022 PED scandal, Brian Johnson — known as Liver King — stayed in character. Behind the raw liver and caveman routine was a man injecting hormones in front of a film crew and spinning made-up origin stories.
“He went to this little fridge that they had kind of carved out in the bathroom and picked out his human growth hormone and just took it in front of us and like kind of looked me in the eyes.”
That moment, captured on day one of filming, defined what followed — a circus of contradictions and a persona that didn’t slip even under pressure. Johnson built a character that was convincing enough to fool millions while quietly spending over $10,000 a month on hormone therapy. His image sold supplements, pushed a meat-based lifestyle, and made him millions — all while he lived on a sprawling Texas ranch.
During a three-day interview intended as a full confessional, Johnson still drifted in and out of character. Pearlman said it took days to finally get something real.
“You know what? F**k it. I’m just going to tell you everything.”
Johnson finally said.
What followed was a mess of confessions: stealing from GNC, selling banned products, lying about his background. He also admitted the story he told the world — that ancestral living cured his kids’ illness — might not be true. Pearlman wouldn’t say whether he believed the children were ever sick.
“I think you see my opinion in the footage.”
One scene showed the family deciding their freezer wasn’t full enough, then staging a bull slaughter. Pearlman described it as completely manufactured. It wasn’t real life. It was a content factory powered by sweat, fantasy and an algorithm.
The deeper Pearlman got, the more obvious it became: Johnson needed attention.
“I think he’s desperate for attention, desperate for friends and kind of desperate for some love.”
Pearlman said.
Even Johnson’s wife, according to Pearlman, accepted the lie because of the money. The house. The ranch. The success. The entire operation ran on pretending hard enough to get paid.
Pearlman argues the internet enabled it all.
“Because of the internet, there’s no traditional gatekeeping that happens when these people are allowed to become experts on things.”
Untold: The Liver King doesn’t ask the audience to believe or condemn. It just shows what happens when someone builds a brand so airtight, not even public exposure can puncture it — a man snorting his own nonsense while millions watch, buy and follow.
