‘The Greatest’ (2026) Prime Video Series Review - A Biopic That Settles for the Bare Minimum

Your response to, or tolerance of, the new Prime Video series, The Greatest, would probably depend on how you respond to its opening sequence. Created by Ben Watkins, the show's first episode opens with Cassius Clay (Jaalen Best) in Rome, admiring the Colosseum as a voiceover talks about how gladiators would fight among themselves in the arena while being cheered on by thousands of spectators. This sightseeing image is intercut with images of Cassius fighting in the boxing ring, surrounded by cheering spectators, and the show's implications immediately become clear: boxers like Cassius are modern-day gladiators. It's an obvious statement, but The Greatest presents it as if it's making a grand, philosophical revelation. Your first instinct is to either roll your eyes or chuckle, but you do give the series a chance to prove itself—only to end up disappointed.

The Greatest carries that same self-satisfied flamboyance over to its narrative, which seems to believe that dramatizing just one aspect of Cassius's personality is more than enough: his inflated sense of self. His overconfidence. Most biopics are so blinded by the blazing shine of their subjects that they end up taking the form of hagiographies or PR projects. The Greatest tries to go in the opposite direction by exposing its subject's flaws and temper, but its needle is mostly stuck on this one matter. "It's not easy to deal with a star," says the show, and after a while, you find yourself replying, "Okay, what else?" You start itching for more insights and drama; you start itching for greater tonal variation. The Greatest, though, thinks it's more than enough to show its lead character beating his own drum. People constantly tell Cassius that he is the greatest. Cassius constantly tells himself that he is the greatest. Journalists publish articles that essentially say that Cassius is the greatest. And after a chance encounter with another self-important celebrity, Cassius, even more openly and arrogantly, begins to declare himself the greatest.

Watkins is so tickled by the prospect of presenting a young Muhammad Ali as a boastful individual that he neglects the other fascinating dramatic threads surrounding his subject. Cassius "Cash" Clay Sr. (Omari Hardwick), for instance, is initially shown as an alcoholic husband who, in one scene, slaps his wife, Odessa "Bird" Clay (Dana Gourrier), after making a scene at a bar and flirting with another woman. The Greatest, though, casually brushes Cash's violence and Odessa's suffering aside when the latter expresses sympathy for the former's struggles and acknowledges their shared emotional connection. The moment effectively softens Cash's image, but the show never bothers to explore the implications of this reconciliation. After this, we never see that ugly side of Cash again. No more drinking; no more seducing other women. Similarly, the white woman for whom Odessa works as a maid scoffs at her for supposedly spreading rumors that she lives in poverty because she isn't properly compensated. (It's a ridiculous suspicion that enters the woman's mind after one of her friends casually remarks that Cassius's talent will lift the whole family out of poverty.) Odessa obviously assures her that she is adequately paid, and that's that. We get no more scenes of Odessa working at the woman's house or facing any further complaints. What's more, Cash angrily scolds Rudy (Kai Parham), Cassius's brother, for living in Cassius's shadow and failing to achieve anything of his own. The Greatest, however, never follows through with this confrontation. What effect do these comments have on Rudy? Does he agree with them, even a little? Are there moments when he feels jealous of Cassius?

Watkins never dives into any of these suggestions. He simply presents them as items on a laundry list that need to be struck off one by one. This lip service reduces all these enticing details to shallow declarations, allowing Watkins to claim that he has addressed every aspect of his material. But he doesn't really deal with them. He tosses them in and out of the story like shiny objects. Instead of dramatization and emotional expansion, Watkins delivers the sense of someone completing a job quickly, with the mechanical efficiency of a 9-to-5 obligation. There is a reason why Sonny Liston's (Amin Joseph) affairs and his sexual assault on a woman are revealed through dialogue rather than uneasy, uncomfortable, or even disturbingly suggestive imagery: Watkins has no distinct style or aesthetic sensibility through which he could intensify and electrify his images. (The other directors, meanwhile, are forced to work within the designs laid out by this creator.) Hence, even the boxing matches are devoid of an adrenaline rush, an invigorating punch, or even simple excitement. The narrative's dutiful approach extends to these matches, making them look equally mechanical. The primary feeling that emanates from the screen is that of contentment with having the job done. It's the equivalent of a smile emoji—Watkins is happy with the bare minimum.

There is, however, a good subversion of a familiar training trope involving a teacher with an unconventional method. Generally, this master initially confuses the pupil with unusual training routines (cleaning bathrooms, doing daily chores, etc.), only to make the pupil realize the real reason behind these activities later. But in The Greatest, nothing of this sort happens. Cassius knows his worth, and he is unwilling to bend to the instructions of a teacher whose methods make little sense to him. Perhaps the lesson is that when you're a once-in-a-lifetime sportsman like Cassius/Ali, you can trust your instincts and make rash decisions. Those decisions, after all, land him at the doors of Angelo Dundee. It's an interesting inversion of the familiar trope and one of the few instances where the show allows its subject's personality to dictate the direction of the narrative rather than merely reiterating what we already know about him.

Odessa is a devout Christian. Cassius, though, becomes fascinated by Islam and converts to the faith. As you may have guessed, Odessa and Cash don't immediately embrace their son's newfound religion, an ideological disagreement that could have provided the show with several opportunities for heated debates and emotionally charged confrontations. The Greatest, alas, doesn't bother with those discussions. All we get are a few condemning lines that merely register the parents' disapproval. There are no intellectual conversations—nothing that could be seen as a heady collision between the believers of two different faiths. Like everything else, this incident, too, is reduced to a bland talking point, an indicator that something of this nature exists in the story without ever becoming a meaningful part of it.

Cassius (aka Ali) might deserve to be called "the greatest," but after finishing all eight episodes, one doesn't think the same about The Greatest. There was an opportunity here to create something incandescent and inspiring, provocative and personal, politically charged and emotionally fervent. Watkins and his team, unfortunately, settle for something safe, restrained, and monotonous, leaving all that promise frustratingly untapped. The show's instincts, after all, are as misguided as its approach to storytelling, and it crashes in the ring with a thud. You wanted this series to amount to something more because its subject is so substantial, so inspiring, so stupendous. Given what you ultimately get, however, I guess the more appropriate title of Watkins's sports drama could be The Poorest.

Final Score - [4/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times
Note: All 8 episodes are screened for this review.
Premiere Date: November 4, 2026, on Prime Video