Netflix’s Mike Tyson docuseries offers an incomplete portrait of a troubling figure | Andrew Lawrence

The once heroic boxer showcases a frankness in this compelling new series but also an unwillingness to take accountability for his darkest moments Mike Tyson never envisioned old age. And yet here he still is, having outlived his parents, Brooklynites of ill repute who died when he was a teenager, and the Brownsville tough guys who teased him for being scrawny and having a lisp. Here he is after doing hard time for rape in his prime, winning and losing great fortunes and battling addiction to drink, drugs and fame.

Here he still is, 60 years old and a grandfather now, mixing it up with Jake Paul in the ring , opening up to manosphere-adjacent podcasters , bobbing into an impromptu White House press briefing – Māori face-tattoo unmistakably in the frame – while on a DC visit to buck up his old pal as his party faces a bleak midterm forecast. “I don’t have to exist,” the champ says in Tyson, the latest four-part vanity project on his turbulent life and times. “Some reason, something allowed me to exist. ” In his heyday, Tyson was a mesmerizing sporting event unto himself – the ruthless knockout machine who struck fear into opponents at first sight, felled them in seconds and looked back on the carnage with cool…