May 6, 2026

I must confess that I'd never heard of this man when I sat down to watch this. "Iron Maiden" had hitherto always been Bruce Dickinson and "Run to the Hills". This introduces us to a most unlikely rock-star. A gent who must certainly be obese; is confined to a wheelchair and openly admits that many of his preceding fifty-nine years were lived in a way that he now regrets. The NHS in the UK know that he needs to have his knees replaced but daren't … read the rest.

I must confess that I'd never heard of this man when I sat down to watch this. "Iron Maiden" had hitherto always been Bruce Dickinson and "Run to the Hills". This introduces us to a most unlikely rock-star. A gent who must certainly be obese; is confined to a wheelchair and openly admits that many of his preceding fifty-nine years were lived in a way that he now regrets. The NHS in the UK know that he needs to have his knees replaced but daren't operate for fear of subsequent problems that may cause, so thanks to some dedicated crowd funding he is to be shipped (quite literally) to Zagreb where he can hopefully have these surgeries - and at a fraction of the cost too. With those medical and physiotheraputic activities as a backdrop, he proceeds to rather candidly tell us of his time with the "Maiden"; of his fallings out with the other band members and of a drinking and cocaine habit that began to render him unreliable - but all without rancour. He's not an angry man nor does he wallow in any self-pitious mire of feeling hard done by. He's been an addict for many things from which he now wants to wean himself, but not to the most important. He loves to tour. The adrenlin rushes as he takes to the stage and belts out, with a voice that any town crier would envy, his lyrics over a cocophany of guitars and drums that would drown out just about anyone else - though perhaps not Gene Simmonds who at just shy of seventy years old, hardly seems to have changed at all over the years. On the health front, we see palpable improvements and those seep through, positively, into his mental health too. He appears to be an anxious and temperamental man; he suffers fools not at all - yet he also comes across as immensely grafteful for an opportunity that he was unlikely to get in an UK where he was nobody's priority, and where his family could only offer limited support. This documentary also shines quite a bit of light on the costs of healthcare. Not so much in terms of pounds or kuna, but in terms of time and devotion. Those helping him heal are honest up front that his recovery, should it happen at all, will takes months of patience and none of it will happen if he continues to drink and smoke. In many ways it reminds us of just how time-consuming and resource-intensive long term care can be, and serves as a timely reminder that with an ever-ageing population in Britain, these services are only going to become more essential against a background of limited funding. Di'Anno is a bit rough round the edges and he has allowed this film to be made with a refreshing candour that is revealing, sometimes embarassing and frequently quite entertaining - in a stroppy and cantankerous sort of fashion. Forty years after he left the band, might there be hope for some reconciliation? He certainly hasn't lost any of his zest for performing to an army of fans of all generations who readily treat him as if he were royalty - only with just a few more rings on his fingers. This is well worth a watch, even if - like me - you're not an heavy metal fan. It's the kind of frank exposure we very rarely see.

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