It was supposed to be a coronation. When Amazon Prime Video announced they were taking their cameras to Turin for the 2020-21 season, the script seemed obvious. Juventus had won nine straight Serie A titles. They had Cristiano Ronaldo. They had just hired Andrea Pirlo—the "Maestro"—to lead a tactical revolution. It was meant to be a glossy, high-definition look at how a global powerhouse stays at the top.
Instead, All or Nothing Juventus became a documentary about a slow-motion car crash.
If you’ve watched the eight episodes, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It isn’t just a sports documentary; it’s a forensic analysis of a culture in transition that accidentally turned into a culture in crisis. Watching it back now, with the benefit of hindsight regarding the financial investigations and board resignations that followed years later, the series feels almost like a prophetic warning.
The Ronaldo Factor: More Than Just Goals
Everyone wants to talk about the locker room scene. You know the one.
Half-time against Porto in the Champions League. Juventus is struggling. Cristiano Ronaldo storms into the dressing room, swearing, fuming, telling his teammates they are playing like "sh*t." He’s pacing. He’s frantic. Juan Cuadrado, usually the most easy-going guy in the squad, has to stand up and tell the five-time Ballon d'Or winner to "set an example."
That moment is the beating heart of the series.
It showed the massive disconnect between the "Ronaldo Project" and the reality of the squad. Juventus bought Ronaldo to win the Champions League. Honestly, they thought his mere presence would be enough to bridge the gap. But All or Nothing Juventus reveals a team that was becoming overly dependent on an individual while losing its collective identity—the "Fino alla Fine" (Until the End) spirit that defined the Conte and Allegri years.
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Ronaldo scored plenty of goals that season. He always does. But the cameras caught the isolation. We see him in the training center, often focused on his own recovery, his own stats, his own standards. When the team fails, the frustration isn't just professional; it's existential. The documentary doesn't hide his tears after the Porto exit, and it shouldn't. It was the moment the dream died.
Pirlo’s Silence and the Tactical Void
Andrea Pirlo was a god as a player. As a manager? He was a gamble that didn't pay off.
The documentary portrays Pirlo exactly as he is: cool, detached, and remarkably quiet. While this worked when he was spraying 40-yard passes at the San Siro, it created a weird vacuum in the dugout. There are scenes where the tactical instructions seem... vague. Compared to the frantic energy of Mikel Arteta in the Arsenal version of the show or the obsessive detail of Pep Guardiola in the City version, Pirlo feels like a ghost in his own locker room.
You see the players looking for a spark that isn't there.
There’s a specific focus on the mid-season slump. Juventus dropped points against teams they should have brushed aside. The "Master" was trying to implement a fluid, high-pressing system with a squad built for pragmatic, defensive football. It was a square peg in a round hole situation. The show does a great job of capturing the tension between the front office—Pavel Nedved and Fabio Paratici—and the pitch. Nedved, in particular, comes across as a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown in every single game. He’s kicking seats, screaming at the air, and personifying the anxiety of a club losing its grip on Italy.
The Human Side: Chiesa and McKennie
If there’s a silver lining in the series, it’s Federico Chiesa.
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In a season of gloom, Chiesa was the lightning bolt. The cameras follow his integration into the team, and his energy is infectious. He’s one of the few players who seems genuinely thrilled to be there, unburdened by the weight of the previous nine titles. His performance against Porto was heroic, and the documentary gives you the "behind the curtain" look at his physical toll.
Then there’s Weston McKennie.
The American’s inclusion provided some much-needed levity. His discussions about putting ranch dressing on pizza (which, let’s be real, is a crime in Italy) highlighted the cultural clash of the modern Juve. He represented the "new" Juventus—marketable, young, global. But even his charisma couldn't mask the fact that the midfield was a mess. The documentary inadvertently highlights how far the standard had fallen from the days of Pirlo, Vidal, and Pogba.
What the Cameras Missed (and What They Didn't)
Critics often say these "All or Nothing" shows are just PR exercises. To an extent, they are. We don't see the deep financial discussions that were happening behind the scenes—the stuff that would later lead to points deductions and legal battles. We don't see the full extent of the "Salary Maneuver" controversy.
However, you can read between the lines.
The desperation in the boardroom is palpable. When Paratici and Agnelli talk, there’s an underlying sense that the floor is falling out from under them. They were betting everything on the European Super League (which collapsed during the filming of the show) and the Champions League. Without those revenue streams, the model was broken.
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The series captures the collapse of the Super League in real-time. Seeing the bewildered looks on the faces of the staff as the project crumbled in 48 hours is worth the subscription price alone. It was the ultimate "All or Nothing" gamble, and they got "Nothing."
Why It Still Matters Today
Looking back at All or Nothing Juventus isn't just a nostalgia trip for Bianconeri fans. It's a case study in how to—and how not to—manage a transition.
- Star power isn't a strategy. You can't just drop a superstar into a decaying structure and expect a miracle.
- Identity is fragile. Juve traded their "grinta" for a brand-heavy, "aesthetic" approach that they weren't ready for.
- Leadership requires volume. Whether it's the coach or the captain, someone has to fill the silence when things go wrong.
Juventus ended that season with a Coppa Italia and a Supercoppa Italiana. On paper, it wasn't a total disaster. They qualified for the Champions League on the final day only because Napoli choked against Verona. But the documentary shows the truth: it was a failure. It was the end of an era.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re diving into the series for the first time or rewatching it to spot the clues of their later downfall, keep your eyes on these specific details:
- The Nedved/Paratici interactions: Watch their body language in the stands. It tells you more about the club's stability than any press release ever could.
- The Gigi Buffon cameos: Even in his final years, Buffon was the soul of the locker room. When he speaks, the air changes. It makes you realize how much they missed that leadership once he (and Chiellini) moved on.
- The silence after the Porto game: The long, agonizing shots of the empty stadium and the silent locker room are haunting.
Ultimately, All or Nothing Juventus serves as a permanent record of the moment a dynasty ended. It wasn't a sudden explosion; it was a slow leak.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Analysts
If you want to truly understand the current state of Italian football, you have to start here. The series explains why Juventus had to hit the "reset" button so hard in the years following.
- Analyze the Wage Bill: Use the documentary to see how much gravity Ronaldo pulled away from the rest of the squad, both financially and tactically.
- Study the Managerial Shift: Compare Pirlo’s hands-off approach in the show to the subsequent return of Max Allegri. It explains why the club went back to a "result-first" mentality.
- Evaluate Scouting Failures: Notice how many players featured heavily in the doc who are no longer at the club or in top-flight European football. It’s a lesson in poor recruitment.
The "All or Nothing" curse might be a meme, but for Juventus, the cameras captured a reality they probably wish had stayed in the dark. It is a raw, sometimes uncomfortable, but necessary look at the fall of a giant.