‘Skywalkers: A Love Story’ Is the Latest Netflix Documentary to Reward Stupid Behavior

Skywalkers: A Love Story—which began streaming on Netflix today—attempts to convince viewers that the act of dangling off the edge of an 118-story skyscraper for the sake of the ‘gram is inspiring, romantic, and admirable. Whether audiences will be fooled by this carefully-spun narrative remains to be seen. But I, for one, hope that viewers—especially young, impressionable viewers whose brains have not yet fully developed—will see the film’s influencer subjects for who they are really are: Narcissistic, reckless, and, quite frankly, stupid.

Written and directed by Jeff Zimbalist, and co-written by Maria Bukhonina, Skywalkers documents the life of Angela Nikolau and Ivan “Vanya” Beerkus, two twenty-something Russian social media influencers who gained a massive following thanks to the viral trend known as “rooftopping.”

Rooftopping is exactly what it sounds like: Young, dumb kids who break into buildings and climb to the roof, simply for the sake of saying they’ve done it. And, of course, they have to get the selfie-stick money shot to post on Instagram.

Nikolau and Beerkus consider themselves the best of the best rooftoppers. Nikolau, a trained gymnast, is the daughter of failed circus performers, and she wants to achieve the dream they gave up on. Beerkus just seems to like climbing stuff. But more than anything, both clearly want fame, money, and clout. The best way to do that, they quickly learn, is together.

After circling each other on Instagram for a while, Beerkus invites Nikolau to join him on a climb in China, sponsored by a travel booking website. (Nikolau tells her friend that, apparently, the client wants Beerkus to do this climb “with a girl.”) They get the shot. The client is thrilled. More sponsorship offers start pouring in. Rooftopping is no longer just a hobby—it’s a career.

For a while, things are great. With Beerkus there to steady her, Nikolau feels emboldened to strike more daring poses atop riskier locations. Their romance feels inevitable, if only for the influencer-relationship content. Then COVID hits. Their travel sponsors drop them. Nikolau is reduced to non-daredevil-based influencer content, in order to pay their bills. They fight. They even break up, though this is quickly glossed over by the doc’s director, Zimbalist. Then Russia invades Ukraine in early 2022. While civilians are fleeing their homes and dying in air raids, Zimbalist asks his audience to sympathize with Nikolau and Beerkus, because the Russian government banned Instagram. Won’t someone please think of the influencers?

Nikolau and Beerkus leave the country to pursue a new, illegal, money-making scheme: Climbing the 118-story Merdeka building, with a 160-meter spire, and selling their resulting photo as an NFT. It’s a new “super” skyscraper being built in Malaysia, and the target of many rooftoppers, who know that once the building is finished, security will make it impenetrable. The latter half of the documentary is dedicated to the Merdeka climb. Zimbalist presents this as a noble quest; two daredevil knights admirably pursuing a lifelong dream. Pay no attention to the NFTs and cryptocurrency behind the curtain.

Perhaps the most heinous moment in the documentary, though, comes when Nikolau and Beerkus hear that one of their old friends was injured in a fall while rooftopping. In a phone call with him, that friend tells Nikolau that nearly all of her old pals have died in the pursuit of this extremely dangerous hobby. Zimbalist includes this moment only to raise the stakes of the big climb for his so-called heroes. The director shows absolutely no interest in exploring the dubious ethics of further glorifying a trend that has killed dozens of young people.

This isn’t the first time Netflix has rewarded ethically dubious and definitely illegal behavior with a fame-making documentary. Tiger King, of course, comes to mind; the series that turned former zookeeper and convicted felon Joe Exotic into a star. More recently, Bitconned gave Miami-based scammer Ray Trapani a platform to brag about his fraud. (His business partner got jail time, and he got a Netflix documentary.) And, much like Skywalker, Netflix’s Longest Third Date presented the annoying, ill-advised antics of an aspiring influencer as a swoon-worthy romance.

A warning at the beginning of Skywalkers to “not attempt to imitate” feels half-hearted at best, in the face of the celebratory end of the documentary. It’s easy to imagine young viewers watching this, taking notes, and plotting their own reckless rooftopping excursions. After all, they just might get a Netflix documentary for their trouble.