It’s no secret that I’m torn on the work of Ryan Murphy. I haven’t finished a season of American Horror Story since Asylum, which captured the particular essence of that show in a way that hasn’t been duplicated. And Scream Queens was, well, Scream Queens. With Murphy it’s hard to separate the fanboy from the artist, because he never makes much of a distinction himself – why else would he cast Lady Gaga, who is not an actor, as the lead in the last season of AHS? The reason The People v. O.J. Simpson works so well – and it really, really does – is that Murphy has allowed himself to stop being “Ryan Murphy” for a second. Murphy directs the anthology series’ first installment “From the Ashes of Tragedy,” and makes a damn good showcase for himself, as well as the show’s terrific cast.
Casting is paramount in a story like this, one that dominated headlines for the better part of two years with its parade of outsized personalities. It’s safe to say that for the most part the cast of People is good-to-great, and it makes sense to start with the Juice himself, Cuba Gooding Jr. Gooding was a strange choice in the casting process, because he hasn’t been taken seriously since his cartoonish Oscar acceptance speech. But he tears into the role of Simpson, one of the more mysterious figures in American sports history: the man who threw it all away. Gooding’s performance is at turns charming, melancholy, and frequently with rage simmering under the surface. He lashes out at those in charge of “taking care” of him, whether they be his law team or his stoner houseguest Kato Kaelin.
The rest of the cast is no slouch, either. Sarah Paulson in particular is terrific, as Los Angeles DA Marcia Clark. Paulson never lets her wig – a veritable mound of curls – get in the way of her damn fine performance, her indignation and fury making her a stand-in for people nationwide who didn’t want to let Simpson get away with murder (“He got away with beating her,” Clark says, “he is not going to get away with killing her”). David Schwimmer excels at Robert Kardashian, personal friend and later lawyer of O.J., whose life is upended by the seemingly airtight case against his friend. Courtney B. Vance nails Johnnie Cochran, playing him as a masterful, theatrical manipulator. He and Paulson need to start thinking about where their Emmys are going to go.
There are only two real issues with the cast. The first is Ken Lerner’s over-the-top portrayal of Howard Weitzman, O.J.’s original lawyer, but thankfully he disappears early on. The same cannot be said of John Travolta’s portrayal of lawyer Robert Shapiro. I have no idea what Travolta is doing here – I don’t mean he’s miscast, I mean I’m totally unfamiliar with the kind of acting he’s doing. It’s not bad enough to derail the series, but it’s bizarre enough to make you wonder if Travolta has a few too many thetans in his body right now. His makeup and prosthetics are caked on so thick that it reminds me of Bart Simpson in “Marge Be Not Proud,” sporting chin putty and a fake nose.
The series takes a fascinating look at race, too. “From the Ashes of Tragedy” opens with montage footage of the riots following the Rodney King verdict, and it sets the tone and timbre of the series handily. It’s a different approach than, say, HBO’s stupendous Show Me a Hero, for one major reason: there is almost no doubt that O.J. Simpson is guilty of the crime he’s accused of. It’s arguable that O.J. and the four cops who beat King were all acquitted because of inverse perversions of the same system: the cops got off because they were white, and O.J. got off because he was famous.
More than race, though, The People v. O.J. Simpson wants to look at our often-destructive relationship with celebrity. Celebrities here are sometimes clueless (“I must be on the list,” Kardashian insists to a police officer, as if O.J.’s house were a club and not a crime scene; later Cochran laments that he has nothing to wear, while standing in front of a closet of suits organized by color), but more often they’re revered. There’s a wonderful, telling shot, as three detectives are stopped dead in their tracks by a statue in O.J.’s front yard: a statue of O.J. himself. Shapiro, too, is name-dropping in almost every scene, bragging about getting Marlon Brando and Johnny Carson out of trouble.
Then there’s the Kardashian aspect. This was my biggests concern going into The People, because Murphy is clearly such a Kardashian fanboy that I’m surprised he didn’t cast Kim as matriarch/soulless harpy/manager Kris Jenner (Selma Blair does a fine job with limited screen time). Do we need to see a young Khloe and Kourtney misbehaving at Nicole Brown’s funeral? Not necessarily, but even that didn’t feel as shoe-horned in as the scene where O.J. tries to kill himself in “Kimmy’s” bedroom (even though that apparently happened in real life). But the Kardashians are a good family to use as an examination of fame (let’s not forget that Caitlyn Jenner, like O.J., got away with killing a man on a national stage). Its few missteps notwithstanding (mainly Travolta), The People v. O.J. Simpson is off to a hell of a strong start.
A Few Thoughts
- Great use at the end of “I Shall Be Released,” Bob Dylan’s song that morphed into a civil rights anthem
- “I’m not an official, like, person” – this show, perfectly summing up Kato Kaelin
- Hats off to director of photography Nelson Cragg, who uses the same muted, anonymous color palette that made his work on Halt and Catch Fire so appealing
- I’m curious to see how The People will portray Detective Mark Furman, even though Dave Chappelle already gave the perfect description of the man: “Trust me, as someone who says ‘n—-r’ a lot, that ‘n—-r’ says ‘n—-r’ all the time.”
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