Shortly after Netflix announced Jeen-Yuhs, they released a clip of Rhymefest asking Kanye West, “Who are you to call yourself a genius?” In response, dozens of Instagram rap accounts posted a two-part slideshow. The first slide highlighted Rhymefest’s question, and the second slide showed Kanye giving a hilarious glance at the camera, encapsulating the fierce self-belief that’s been a core part of his personality.

The exchange originally went viral as a “Kanye moment,” but in the full scene, Rhymefest provides the epigraph of the trilogy’s conclusion by expressing that “genius is developed through experience and through hardship.” Part three of Jeen-Yuhs is the first time that co-directors Coodie and Chike chronicle Kanye West out of his depth, as the timeline zooms from 2005 to Kanye running a 2020 presidential campaign that he clearly didn’t have the experience or peace of mind for. 

In the first two parts of the documentary trilogy, we watched Kanye will himself to the top of the music industry through a steely ambition and musical genius. Then we’re abruptly time portaled to his overzealous push to enter the political sphere—while going through a mental health crisis. This grappling between Kanye’s ceaseless longings for more and his mental health trials define part three of Jeen-Yuhs. Coodie tries to put a neat, present-day bow on the documentary at various points of the 2010s, but his plan falters due to Kanye’s continuous controversies.

‘Jeen-Yuhs’ is a cautionary tale about how fame, wealth, and power can corrupt someone. It asks us if fame is healthy for anyone involved.

“The old Kanye,” a bright-eyed aspirant, is juxtaposed against a modern depiction of an easily agitated superstar, speaking heavily to the needlessness of modern celebrity. In part three, Kanye seems disenchanted with fame, but willing to use the limitless resources he’s afforded by it. The cultural power he’s gained through music and fashion fandom has seemingly ensconced him inside his own reverie, where anything is possible. And, of course, his battle with bi-polar disorder keeps everyone around him (and viewers) wondering his motivations at any given moment. 

Jeen-Yuhs’ fly-on-the-wall format is light on external commentary (sans Coodie’s narration), leaving the scenes to speak for themselves. They collectively reinforce Kanye’s infamous edict: no one man should have all that power. We loved watching Kanye’s relentless drive in the first two parts of Jeen-Yuhs, but it’s difficult not to feel like the wringer of celebrity frayed his perspective in the latter portions of his career. This film trilogy is a cautionary tale about how fame, wealth, and power can corrupt someone. It asks us if fame is healthy for anyone involved.