The Rise of the
Red Hot Chili Peppers:
Our Brother, Hillel

Michael Venn, contributor
 

As a documentary filmmaker, musician, and longtime fan of the band, I went into The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother, Hillel with high expectations and a fair amount of skepticism. Hillel Slovak’s role in shaping the band is foundational, yet often overshadowed by the antics of Anthony Kiedis and Flea, and what the Chili Peppers would later become. This film sets out to correct that, and for the most part, it succeeds.
 

From the outset, what stands out is how essential Hillel was, not just as a guitarist, but as the emotional and creative nucleus of the band’s early identity. His angular, funk-infused playing, combined with a deep musical intuition, was revolutionary on guitar in the 1980’s. Mix that in with Anthony’s rap-influenced vocals, Flea’s punk/funk bass, and Jack’s solid grooves, and you get a sound and energy that didn’t exist before. But even more so, it was the bond between Hillel, Anthony Kiedis, Flea, and Jack Irons that gave the band its initial spark. This wasn’t just a band; it was a brotherhood.
 

There’s a great moment early in the film where Flea reflects on their first show: they only had one song, one rehearsal, and performed it almost as a joke, or maybe a dare; But something happened on that stage. That raw, chaotic energy, the chemistry, the electricity, it felt undeniable, and the audience could feel it and wanted more. It’s easy to see how that moment became the blueprint for everything that followed. When Flea says, “That night was the greatest musical event of my life”, you not only believe it, but you can tell they had captured lightning in a bottle.
 

Ben Feldman’s documentary for Netflix also explores the uncertainty of those early years, particularly when Hillel and Jack Irons leave to pursue their other band, What Is This. Both bands were signed at the same time, and Hillel and Jack made the decision to stay with their main band and left the Chili Peppers, who were forced to find replacements.  The magic of The Red Hot Chili Peppers was lost with that defining decision. There’s a telling interview with Hillel from that period, he says he made the right decision, but his body language and tone suggest otherwise. It’s a subtle but powerful moment, revealing the internal conflict between artistic ambition and the pull of something more meaningful: the connection he had with his bandmates, and the new sound and musical styling that they created together in one song, one rehearsal, and one live performance.
 

What elevates the film beyond a standard music doc is its use of Hillel’s own artwork and journal entries. These elements offer a deeply personal lens into his mindset, his creativity, his vulnerability, and ultimately, his struggles with heroin. The integration of archival footage with these materials is effective, grounding the story in authenticity. That said, the use of AI to recreate Hillel’s voice, even when reading his own words, feels like a creative choice that may divide viewers. It works in moments, but it also raises questions about where documentary storytelling should draw the line.
 

The film doesn’t shy away from the darker side of the band’s history. The contrast between their performances when they were focused and connected versus when addiction took hold is stark. Nowhere is that more evident than in the later tour footage, where Hillel’s presence begins to fade. The energy that once defined him gives way to something more fragile, more distant. It’s difficult to watch, but it’s also essential to understanding the full scope of his story.
 

When Hillel’s death from a heroin overdose arrives, it lands with emotional weight, even for those who know it’s coming. The film captures the aftermath through the perspectives of those closest to him, particularly Anthony and Flea, whose responses couldn’t be more different. That divide speaks volumes about where they were at the time, both personally and as a band. Hillel wasn’t just a collaborator; he was family. And his absence left a palpable void. 
 

In many ways, the documentary positions Hillel’s passing as both an ending and a beginning. It set the stage for the band’s next chapter, including the arrival of John Frusciante, whose early approach was deeply influenced by Hillel’s style. That lineage, musical and emotional, becomes one of the film’s most compelling throughlines, tying in John’s attempt to honor Hillel while trying to become himself and embrace his own musical infusion in the band.
 

Ultimately, Our Brother, Hillel, is less about mythologizing the Red Hot Chili Peppers and more about grounding their story in something human. It’s about friendship, creativity, loss, and the fragile line between inspiration and self-destruction. For longtime fans, it adds depth to a familiar story. For newcomers, it offers a powerful introduction to the spirit that started it all.

Nearly four decades later, that spirit still lingers and embodies the unique sound that is the Red Hot Chili Peppers.