The Unauthorized Biopic Dilemma: When Art Collides with Autonomy
There’s something inherently provocative about biopics, especially when they’re made without the subject’s blessing. The latest case in point? The upcoming film Billy & Me, a project chronicling the early life of Billy Joel—a man who has explicitly stated he wants nothing to do with it. Personally, I think this situation is a fascinating intersection of art, autonomy, and the ethics of storytelling. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it forces us to grapple with the question: Who owns a person’s story?
From my perspective, the core issue here isn’t just legal—though Billy Joel’s team has made it clear the filmmakers don’t have his life or music rights—but philosophical. Biopics are often marketed as ‘true stories,’ yet they’re inherently interpretations. In this case, the filmmakers claim they’re focusing on Joel’s formative years, before his rise to fame, and are using the perspectives of his former manager and lifelong friend. But here’s the rub: even if they’re not using his music or his direct narrative, they’re still profiting from his identity. What this really suggests is that the line between tribute and exploitation is blurrier than we often admit.
One thing that immediately stands out is the filmmakers’ defense. Adam Ripp, the screenwriter, insists the film is an ‘intimate origin story’ and not a traditional biopic. He emphasizes their respect for Joel’s legacy and their focus on the people around him. But if you take a step back and think about it, this feels like a workaround—a way to tell Joel’s story without his involvement. What many people don’t realize is that even when a biopic avoids legal pitfalls, it can still feel like a violation of trust. After all, who gets to decide how someone’s early struggles and triumphs are portrayed?
This raises a deeper question: Are biopics ever truly ethical? In my opinion, the answer depends on intent and execution. When done with care and collaboration, they can honor a person’s legacy. But when they’re pursued without consent, they risk becoming glorified fan fiction—or worse, a cash grab. What’s especially interesting here is the involvement of Jon Small, Joel’s lifelong friend and original drummer. His endorsement adds a layer of legitimacy, but it doesn’t negate Joel’s discomfort. This dynamic highlights the messy reality of relationships and how they’re weaponized in storytelling.
If we zoom out, this controversy is part of a larger trend in Hollywood. Unauthorized biopics are nothing new—think The Disaster Artist or I, Tonya—but they’re becoming more contentious as celebrities push back. Billy Joel’s stance is a reminder that fame doesn’t erase the right to privacy or control over one’s narrative. From a cultural standpoint, this reflects a growing tension between public fascination and individual autonomy. We want to know the stories behind the icons, but at what cost?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the filmmakers’ reliance on Joel’s former manager, Irwin Mazur, whose life rights they secured. It’s a clever legal maneuver, but it also feels like a loophole. By centering the story on Mazur’s perspective, they’re technically telling his story—but let’s be honest, the draw is still Billy Joel. This tactic underscores the lengths people will go to to tell a story, even when the subject isn’t on board.
Looking ahead, this controversy could set a precedent for how biopics are handled in the future. Will filmmakers become more cautious, or will they double down on creative liberties? Personally, I think the industry needs to rethink its approach. Collaboration should be the default, not the exception. After all, a story told with the subject’s input is almost always richer and more authentic.
In the end, Billy & Me isn’t just a film—it’s a case study in the ethics of storytelling. It forces us to ask: Whose story is it, anyway? And more importantly, who gets to tell it? As someone who loves both art and autonomy, I’m left with a bittersweet takeaway: Sometimes, the most compelling stories are the ones left untold.
