The Female Filmmaker Who Made the Sean Combs Netflix Docuseries

For two decades, filmmaker Alexandria Stapleton has made documentary features that explore legacy, corruption, and power. With Sean Combs: The Reckoning, the fiercely discussed four-part Netflix docuseries about Sean “Diddy” Combs, she brings these themes into full focus, putting them at the center of cultural discourse.

Released on December 2, the series examines sexual misconduct allegations against the music executive while interrogating the broader dynamics of fame and accountability. Directed by Stapleton, alongside executive producer Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, the project quickly became one of the most talked-about documentaries of the year. “It took two years to make this whole thing happen from beginning to end,” Stapleton tells ELLE.

The Reckoning has not been without controversy. Combs’s legal team has alleged that some intimate footage was used without authorization—claims that Netflix and Stapleton have firmly rejected, maintaining the material was obtained legally and with the necessary rights. Regardless, the series has drawn millions of viewers and ignited a national conversation about how celebrity and systems of self-preservation can enable alleged abuse.

Stapleton is far from a newcomer. The Texas-based filmmaker has directed and produced documentaries spanning sports, music, and politics. Her penchant for pairing personal stories with urgent systemic questions helps anchor her body of work, which includes Reggie, a feature about baseball legend Reggie Jackson; How Music Got Free, which examines the rise of music piracy and the digital disruption of the recording business; and an episode of HBO’s God Save Texas exploring the oil industry’s impact on her family and communities in her home state.

One of her forthcoming documentaries is about Brittney Griner, which will debut at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival in January. The film traces the WNBA star’s wrongful detention in Russia and the fraught political and cultural response to her return.

“Sometimes people come to me with an idea, and sometimes it’s me wanting to put stories out there,” the veteran director says, speaking on Zoom from a room lined with books and a framed poster of Reggie hanging just behind her.

Ahead, Stapleton talks to ELLE about making The Reckoning, what viewers can expect from her Griner documentary, and the importance of Black women leading in storytelling.

What initially compelled you to take on The Reckoning?

My curiosity was definitely piqued with Cassie’s lawsuit. I was shocked—like I think the whole world was—in reading the allegations. It was so different than the public persona that Sean Combs projected for so long. But also, there were rumors that had been circulating throughout the decades about him. So that’s when the story struck me.

But then they settled 24 hours later, and we were all left scratching our heads. How does all of that information come out, and how do you put the genie back in the bottle? I thought this could be something interesting to look into, so I started working on it.

As a filmmaker, as a fan of hip-hop and as someone who grew up with Bad Boy [Records] and listening to everyone who was on that roster from the ’90s, I was definitely interested in what Bad Boy was back in the day. But I was also really curious about how a woman with these types of allegations would hold up in the public sphere. What would the commentary be like? It was all very interesting to me.

How did you approach exploring the themes of power, silence, and accountability?

As time went on, more lawsuits started to come to light, and all of the allegations seemed to have through lines. That spoke to me, and I thought perhaps Cassie’s public revelation of what she went through was going to be a watershed moment for more women to speak out.

At the same time, I was already in a working relationship with G-Unit and 50 [Cent]. I saw on his Instagram that he wanted to make a documentary, so we had a conversation, and I said I was interested in investigating this. We wanted to talk about how complicated these matters might be, which opened up a whole other world beyond the sexual assaults—what the real origin of Sean Combs and Bad Boy was, and who the players were that helped create that ecosystem.

The biggest question became: If all of this alleged behavior was going on, how was he able to contain it and hide it? To comprehend sexual violence connected to someone with that much power and fame, you have to give context to what allows that behavior to exist. There was a larger question of accountability.

But documentary filmmaking is limited by who is willing to talk and what can be legally backed up, and I honestly wish I’d had more time and that more people had come forward.

Capricorn Clark in Sean Combs: The Reckoning.

How did you earn people’s trust and get them to participate in the docuseries?

I reminded people that all of this work started before he was indicted and before anyone really realized that there was any type of criminal investigation underway. At that time, there was a very heightened sense of fear, a lot of paranoia, and a lot of messiness in the social media space. People were really afraid: “If I tell you my story, is this just gonna be chopped and screwed for the internet, or is this a really serious situation?”

The fact that I’ve been a filmmaker working in this space as a documentarian for over two decades helped, but it still took a lot of conversation about what my POV was going to be. The fact that 50 Cent was an executive producer on the series also gave people a stamp that this was a valid project that was going to see the light of day. Some people felt safe because 50’s name attached to it, and others felt safe based on my reputation and on the understanding that I was going to be very respectful of their stories.

There were a ton of conversations before the cameras turned on. With so much misinformation, we formed a cocoon and a safe place for people. I encouraged everyone to focus on the story they were telling, promising to give it context and shape so they were unfiltered and uninterrupted. People eventually trusted that, but it wasn’t easy.

What systems were you most intent on interrogating beyond the central story of Sean Combs?

That’s always a balance—how much do you focus on the macro, the system, and how much do you focus on the characters you’re choosing to talk about? In this case, the main story we’re following is Sean Combs and all of these people who were impacted or affected by him.

With only four episodes and four hours, I felt it was imperative to understand Uptown [Records] and Bad Boy and those worlds. I thought it was interesting that someone so young could shoot all the way to the top and be involved with really questionable things that would be career-ending today, like the CCNY tragedy. Somehow, Sean was able to keep his career going despite everything. Sometimes the film asks more questions than it answers, and that’s by design—to get people talking and doing more work to understand.

We do touch on the trial and the legal system. When it comes to sexual violence and assault, I’m asking if our legal system is really the best it can be at unpacking, prosecuting, and communicating what victims go through. I don’t feel like we’re there yet.

Ultimately, I chose to really focus more on Sean the person and his ecosystem, and beyond that, on what we allow people with fame and power to do, and what that reflects about us as a civilization.

Joi Dickerson Neal appears in The Reckoning.

It’s startling how much was known or suspected for years without any substantial consequences.

A lot of the commentary on social media has been: “This is nothing new. I already knew all of this.” I find that interesting and kind of the point: What does that say about you? What does that say about art and the American public? We knew all these things to be true, or thought these things might be true, but did nothing about them.

I’m not saying that those same people are big Sean Combs or Bad Boy fans—I’m saying things were swept under the rug for decades. That, to me, is the bigger question that I hope people can reflect on, versus trying to get a new piece of information to be enraged about, because that’s not the point of the story.

There’s been a lot of conversation about the personal footage from Diddy’s videographer and the legality of its use. Can you shed any light on that?

All I can tell you is that it was obtained legally and after his arrest. It was an organic situation. When I started this project, I did not know that it was going to happen. I didn’t even know if Sean Combs was ever gonna be indicted. The series was already in motion, and there was a ton of work and a ton of people who had already shared so much of their truth with us by the time that happened.

I’m very grateful that millions of people are watching the series. I just hope the conversation turns toward other things in the documentary. The people who sat down did so in great fear—fear of retaliation and fear for their lives in some instances. I really hope that we can sink our teeth into what they were talking about. With the footage, maybe instead of the focus being entirely on how it happened, we should be talking about what you actually saw.

Kalenna Harper.

You’re directing and producing a documentary about Brittney Griner. What parallels are there between her story and your other works?

I try to understand the big oppressive systems that hold people down. With Brittney, she was wrongfully detained in Russia, and a big part of the film is unpacking everything that the U.S. government, her wife, Cherelle, her agent, Lindsay Colas, her family, and everyone in her tight orbit had to go through to get her home. Her upbringing and life were uniquely shaped to equip her to survive it, endure it, and come back home to try to put her life back together.

There’s also an interesting story in how her situation was handled in the U.S. Instead of the country coming together, her detention and the fact that she came home before Paul Whelan were politicized. Some people say they don’t like her, that she’s un-American, which is fascinating and wrong. Part of what I’m doing with the film is showing how the We Are BG campaign was meant to unite people beyond her sexual identity, race, and gender, to understand that she’s a human being, an American, wrongfully imprisoned.

Through social media and misinformation, someone like Putin led the American public to think she wasn’t worthy of fighting for, which is absurd. The film shows how off-target that thinking is, and how protesting or speaking out is actually a very American act. Her father fought in Vietnam, and BG has represented the U.S. in the Olympics numerous times. It’s about questioning where we draw the line, especially for Black Americans and Black queer women, and giving that context to audiences.

Stapleton speaks during a screening of How Music Got Free in New York City in June 2024.

There are still relatively few Black women leading documentary projects, particularly at this scale. What has it taken for you to build and sustain your position, and what still needs to change?

So much. I’m not the only Black female making documentaries, thank God—and there are also other women and women of color—but there aren’t a lot of us working at a certain level. The business is really crazy right now because it’s constricted and gotten smaller. In times like these, it’s even more imperative for people to pay attention to [our] storytelling. What’s statistically true with any shift is that the first voices to go are often marginalized voices. We see this with DEI programs being wiped out and thrown away, and so many industries are impacted by that.

Within the film industry, there was so much work being done, and doors were open, and then as the business started to shrink, those voices started to disappear. I can only speak as a Black American female, but I think Black women have a very interesting way of storytelling because of our place in society. We’re often able to tell stories with a deep understanding of nuance. That’s not to say other genders and races can’t do that, but there’s something special about Black female directors, from the work Ava [DuVernay] does to the work of Dawn Porter.

That comes from what we’ve grown up understanding. Black female voices are crucial in journalism, documentary filmmaking, television, and scripted features. We exist, but there’s so much further to go.

Whose stories do you want to tell next?

I wish I could say, but some of them I’m actually developing. There are three people in particular who I’m working around the clock, behind the scenes, to capture. I’m excited for so much.

Hopefully, this spring, there’ll be new announcements. But right now I’m working around the clock to finish Brittney’s story for Sundance, which I am so honored to be part of. And then I’m wrapping up a film about Terrell Owens that talks about his story, legacy, and journey as a prolific Hall of Fame football player. So that’s what’s on the docket for now.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.