As a semi-regular Netflix documentary watcher and chronically online teenager, advertisements for “Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy” continue to catch my eye.
For those who aren’t aware, Netflix released the documentary this Summer, examining the heartbreaking crowd surge during rapper Travis Scott’s Astroworld Festival, which left hundreds injured and ten dead.
Dense crowds may pose dangers, but what was unique about the Astroworld incident was that Travis Scott, who was on the stage at the time, seemed to ignore reports of the emergency in the moment and keep playing, worsening the crisis according to some witnesses.
Hundreds of lawsuits were filed against Scott and festival organizer Live Nation, alleging negligence in planning and in emergency response. In 2024, Scott and Live Nation settled the lawsuits, paying out to families of the victims and injured concertgoers alike.
The documentary was not an easy watch. By the end of the 80-minute run time, I was angry, teary-eyed, and thoroughly impressed. Its mix of horrifying sadness in collaboration with precise organization leaves viewers not just aware of the event, but of who should further be held accountable for the victims of this festival.
Despite the settlements, it’s Live Nation that still has work to do. The company has yet to tighten their safety procedures, and they still leave too much power to artists instead of venue staff when an emergency occurs. With years of settlements seemingly closing the case for Live Nation, it’s up to Washington to force their hand.
Live Nation has a troubled history tied to over 200 deaths and at least 750 injuries since 2006 — yet lawmakers’ most significant legislation affecting concert safety procedures only addresses whether planes can fly over outdoor festivals, a protection that confronts the possibility of a terror attack from above.
Legislators need look no further than their living rooms to determine which problems on the ground also need to be addressed. In the Astroworld documentary, a diverse range of perspectives presented in the interviews was one of the more impactful elements in evoking the emotional rollercoaster that makes this documentary — and Live Nation and Scott’s half-hearted follow-up to the tragedy — so gut-wrenching. It was vulnerable, personal, and raw, allowing even jaded politicians and company officials to experience feelings of remorse and sadness over the unregulated industry.
The wide range of viewpoints displayed in the documentary does more than tug at viewers’ heartstrings; it helps viewers understand the timeline, the exact moments that went wrong and need reappraisal. Testimonials include a Live Nation photographer, EMTs, and security workers, most of whom emphasized the disorganization and chaos of this planned festival. We witness excited guests turn into terrified escapees through videos of attendees; viewers can recognize the mishaps, and oversights, of how these factors became deterrents of a predictable catastrophe.
The use of videos from audience members makes everything still feel real. Seeing the panic and fear in their faces, voices, and body language helps viewers feel what thousands experienced that day. Like many others, I initially found it difficult to understand how a crowd surge can even happen, or how it can kill. However, as footage unfolded, I felt a sense of gratitude that the numbers weren’t higher. The first-hand videos of people, many around my age or younger, pleading for help or screaming to stop the show further emphasized the utter lack of safety this show entailed.
So what might legislators address? With an awkward stage set-up, the crowd crushed itself on one side and not the other. One minor criticism I do have of the documentary is its near-complete analysis of Astroworld’s staging and floor plan. Even an additional five minutes dedicated to comparisons of other, less dangerous productions would strengthen this part of the film greatly. There are terrifying scientific predictions for how dense crowds move. Those studies are worth exploring and may provide insight for lawmakers looking to act.
The convergence of all concertgoers at once to the main stage was another significant problem that regulation could solve. When side stages abruptly go quiet, everyone is drawn to the same place, rapidly affecting safety. Drafting a law that requires other festival activities and acts to continue until the end of each festival could calm the rushes enough to keep fans safe.
Scott reportedly ignored event staff — a safety concern that lawmakers may also address, ensuring there are stiff penalties for that kind of ego.
It’s not all sad, though; the documentary’s message is that “we can do better.” In the weeks after watching this documentary, I found myself feeling unexpected ambition, maybe even hope for live music, an important cultural industry.
While people of all ages are tuning into Netflix’s new documentary, Gen Z and young Millennials — those who attended the concert and remain Travis Scott’s primary audience — are the ones taking it the most seriously. After the film’s release, I began to notice shifts among peers online. My daily TikTok scrolls were slowly peppered with conversations and footage of the Astroworld concert from audience members we didn’t see in the documentary. Videos appeared with captions like, “now that ‘Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy’ documentaries have been released, I wanted to share my story” and “I also fell that night into the crowd, and I’m thankful for the person who pulled me up and saved my life.” We began to speak up, given a renewed platform for our voice and making others who remain concerned or victimized feel less alone. The connections online between survivors of that night underscore how detrimental it is to prioritize profits over lives.
Unfortunately, our government continues to pass bills, laws, and executive orders that prioritize revenue generation over the safety of millions. No matter your political beliefs, there is no denying that the lack of accountability for those who hold the wealth is prominent in the U.S. In both action and inaction, we choose the wealthy over the poor time and time again. Astroworld is simply history repeating itself. More recently, the Big Beautiful Bill and threats to Medicare and Medicaid continue to put the needs of poor Americans last. This film is another opportunity for us to reflect, and confront these truths rather than accept them.
The priority of “Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy” is honoring the lives lost that night, through exposure and justice — but the filmmakers need help. The intent of the film seems pure. It may not be surrounded by an entertaining or occupational approach, and there’s no dramatic music or strange filters. But it will be a sobering reality for so many in Washington and nationwide.