Kylie, the new three-part documentary that launched on Netflix on Wednesday and has been making me verklempt ever since, is great in every way it’s possible for TV to be. But on the basis of the first two and a half episodes, a couple of things jump out: Kylie’s almost superhuman ability to stay cheerful in the face of intense provocation, and the extraordinary rudeness she had to tolerate from interviewers back in the day.

Here’s Michael Parkinson in 2004, grinning like an alligator and asking her a question considered totally fine at the time: “What about children? You’re 35 now, leaving it a bit late aren’t you?” And a few years later, Cat Deeley, asking roughly the same question, albeit slightly more diplomatically, right after Kylie had emerged from chemotherapy for breast cancer. Nice work, guys!

Anyway, never mind that. This gorgeous documentary is a correction to the recent slew of terrible hagiographies (Melania), weaselly half-measures (David Beckham) or empty vessels (Victoria Beckham) that skirt around their subjects, instead offering us a profile in fame that apparently took its maker, Michael Harte, two years to finish and features all the people you most want it to. At the heart of it is the enduring........

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