By Jason Martin @GuyNamedJason
You know, you’ve got to have tragedy in your life to really write an interesting biography. – O.J. Simpson
Never before in the United States had such a universally recognized, nationally famous man been on trial for murder. In 1994, two years after the riots that left Los Angeles in smoldering ruins, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend, and her male companion, an aspiring restaurateur and former model, were savagely slain outside a house on Bundy Drive in Brentwood, California. Violence was unthinkable here. This kind of event simply didn’t happen in this place, where the wealthiest of the wealthy, the most powerful people in the state, made their residence. What ensued following the crime was the largest media circus in American history, focused around a 267-day trial where the victims were forgotten and a larger issue was returning to the surface yet again. Old wounds that were never allowed to heal, and in some cases, were never treated to begin with, left the citizenry in an emotional frenzy.
And at the center of all of it, a 46-year-old celebrity, who also happened to be one of the finest athletes of the 20th century, Orenthal James Simpson.
In the seven-plus hours of ESPN’s O.J.: Made in America, Ezra Edelman weaves a story that leaves no angle untouched, no mistake unmagnified, and no detail forgotten. To call this documentary series good would be an insult, for it serves as the new bar for the acclaimed 30 for 30 series, for the network, and sits as arguably the finest piece of television – of any type – to arrive in 2016.
Presented in five parts, Edelman takes his audience on a journey from San Francisco to a courtroom in downtown L.A., and he brings forth so much content, so many stories and so enormous a cast of characters, that somehow when the final credits roll, it feels like an accomplishment just to have taken the trip. Whether it’s discussing the blocking mistake that led to Simpson’s famous 64-yard run against UCLA, the play that defined his USC college career, or breaking down every wound on the bodies of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman in gut-wrenching fashion, nothing is omitted.
At times during the miniseries, you’ll find yourself infuriated; regardless of what side you align yourself with on that particular concern. Ezra gives you every side, as ridiculous as those opinions might be, because it all plays into the larger narrative. In the first 30 minutes of Part Five, I was incensed and ready to break the television as I listened to the reaction to the verdict, just as I was angry at the police, the prosecution, and O.J.’s friends, who to this day refuse to believe he could possibly have committed the murders. I was irate at F. Lee Bailey, who comes across as a repulsive human being as he revels in the destruction of Mark Fuhrman, which even if it was justified to some extent, misses any compassion for the families of the victims. I was disgusted as Barry Scheck and Carl Douglas seemed impervious to the evidence in front of their faces.
The facts presented in the documentary are both vast and well researched. Edelman spends an incredible amount of time depicting and attempting to understand the race relations that fell apart due to Daryl Gates and several historic incidents in Los Angeles, including the murder of Latasha Harlins by Korean grocer Soon Ja Du, and the largest catalyst of them all, the beating of Rodney King in 1992. Community leaders like Danny Bakewell, religious leaders like Reverend Cecil Murray, local government officials, family and personal friends, most of the police officials you’d want to hear from, everyone important on the prosecution (outside of Chris Darden), are all a part of the story, in their own words.
How Edelman obtained all these interviews, how he found all the astonishing footage used in Made in America, it had to take forever. There are scenes of O.J. in college, endless interview segments he did through the years, live video from his wedding day, the reception and his speech to Nicole, off camera moments with Gil Garcetti as the Bronco chase was live, and so many other pieces of tape that will blow your mind. When you’ve seen all five parts, just sitting back and pondering the labor involved in putting together such a massive project might give you a headache. As it moved along, I found myself transfixed by it. When each part ended, I immediately began the next, because it was that good.
While the O.J. story is the primary objective, a bigger idea churns its way throughout the series, a question of who was to blame for this man’s rise and subsequent downfall, and what societal conditions made it possible for him to achieve the success he did and then gave him the slim out he needed to avoid a murder conviction. You’ll meet his childhood acquaintances and his closest friends; some that stuck with him through it all and others who couldn’t remain on board as the evidence piled up against him. I could spend hours just sharing quotes that remained with me from O.J.: Made in America, but you’ll get to absorb them yourselves soon enough.
One thing I regret for the vast majority of those who will watch this series, beginning tomorrow night on ABC, is that they’ll be watching a censored version. In the media screener, nothing is edited out, including the sit-down interviews, the 911 tapes, and the spontaneous reactions from onlookers. Expect quite a few bleeps as you view O.J.: Made in America, which will detract from the proceedings just a bit. I found it so integral to hear all the nastiness in an unvarnished manner. It’s such an ugly story, filled with rage and hatred, and it begs to be seen with all the spikes intact.
Television helicopter pilot and narrator Bob Tur, famous for his voice during various car chases in Los Angeles, including the O.J. Simpson Bronco chase, spoke to the surreal nature of what he called a “motorcade,” something he’d never seen before. He also revealed himself to be a transvestite, and then dropped this quote about his feelings from that afternoon, which I simply have to put in here for you.
“Fuck NBC. Fuck ABC. I hope they shoot the son of a bitch, and I hope they do it before the competitors get here.”
If I had to pick a single time frame in the miniseries that resonated with me the most, it would undeniably be prosecution attorney Phil Hodgman’s retelling of how he believed the murders were carried out. Not only was this impossibly difficult to listen to, photos splashed across the screen that turned my stomach. As carefully as I followed the trial in 1994 and 1995, I had never seen the shot of Nicole’s throat or the side of Ronald’s neck, and I never want to see it again. It’s such a jarring few minutes that I almost had to pause the video to walk out of the room for a bit. We’ve heard stories since day one about how Nicole’s head was nearly severed from her body. Now, there are pictures placed directly in your face to fully comprehend just how vicious, just how ungodly, how depraved these murders were.
Nearly as unsettling were photos taken of Nicole after some of the previous domestic incidents, both before and after she left O.J. the first time. This woman was terrorized, tortured, beaten unmercifully, all while being cheated on and controlled in ways that stripped all of her humanity away. Even those who might still hold any inkling of doubt as to Simpson’s innocence in the killings, there’s no defense for any of this, and when Marcia Clark and the prosecutors talk about how they could see that the jury simply didn’t care at all about the domestic violence in the marriage, it breaks your heart and makes you cringe for human decency.
Early in the documentary, Ezra Edelman tells the story of O.J. Simpson, the man who ran from race at every turn, who was “seduced by white culture,” according to his friend Joe Bell, and who was the opposite of Jim Brown, Muhammad Ali, and those who boycotted the 1968 Olympics. The shift in Simpson from the guy who never saw himself as a black man to the one who, in his own words, was forced to count the blacks and Hispanics in the courtroom, was illuminating. What increasingly comes across through O.J.: Made in America, is the reality of two Orenthal James Simpson’s, the one who smiles in Hertz commercials, ABC telecasts, and Naked Gun movies, and the one who talks of Nicole “sucking dick” in the living room as he attempts to break into her home to beat her to a pulp, or worse.
The trial is explained in painstaking clarity from all sides, including two jurors, one of whom admits on camera that in her mind, her verdict was always payback for Rodney King. There’s a sense of resentfulness between races during the course of the documentary, echoing the sentiments that controlled and then completely altered the case. Danny Bakewell talks of how he used O.J. as a vessel to advance the black cause and that it was always about something bigger. Much of what he said was a bit tough to digest, because it was clear nothing matters at all to this guy other than his skin color. We hear that black women on the jury hated Nicole because she was a white woman who took one of their own, but never penalized O.J. for cheating on his black wife with her. The vitriol spread to Marcia Clark, but once Johnnie Cochran found his perceived villain in the LAPD, the murders and basically everything else were meaningless to jurors and to the general populous.
Everyone interviewed is candid in a way you won’t believe, saying things that will shock you, upset you, and sometimes find your deepest vulnerabilities. There’s no filter, from Mark Fuhrman telling Edelman, “For you it’s a documentary. For me it’s the end of my life,” to Jeffrey Toobin describing Cochran’s subtext during a key moment of the trial as trying to portray Christopher Darden as an “Uncle Tom,” the intensity never breaks, not for a second.
Ron Shipp is a standout contributor, as he knew O.J. and loved the man, even helping him through one of the Nicole assaults during his 14-year career in the LAPD, but testified against him after seeing crime scene photos in Darden’s office. Watching him go from the fun anecdotes about this hero he nearly idolized to one who couldn’t fight back tears as he described the first homicide he ever saw in person and then the Bundy pictures is riveting beyond all belief. Because of his conscience, the defense attempted to destroy him, painting him as an alcoholic who always wanted Nicole for himself. His story will hook you from the first time he arrives in the documentary, and you feel such sympathy for what he went through.
The tormented relationship with Nicole (including the entire Marcus Allen complication), the murders, the trial, and the aftermath encompass most of the series, but the entire first episode delves into O.J.’s upbringing, including the discovery that his father was gay, something that Nicole at one time thought might have led to him beating her, because he couldn’t deal with homosexuality and raged because of his dad. That opening 95 minutes of O.J.: Made in America, shows a charming man with confidence to match his million dollar smile, but even at USC, the entitlement and the inflated sense of self were already visible.
When Edelman’s series takes its final bow, you understand just how fictitious the Simpson persona actually was. He hated Buffalo, couldn’t wait to get into movies, flaunted his adultery in front of his wife, stalked her and watched her engage in intercourse with other men after the separation, went out of his way to never take any political stance, and was selfish, jealous, and dangerous. In the very first shot, you see Simpson speaking to a review board about the jobs he’s held while in prison for memorabilia theft in Las Vegas, and by the end, you’re just glad he’s an inmate.
And, once you see his “Up Close” interview with Roy Firestone, you may never be the same. Roy, incredulous at what he deemed outlandish accusations of this obvious superhero, while Ezra provides the context, the evidence, and the facts that everyone ignored until it was too late.
This is a landmark documentary, a staggering masterwork, and here’s the kicker. O.J.: Made in America is so well done, it closes the book on O.J. Simpson’s story. You never need to watch anything on the man, the case, or the history again, because it simply won’t measure up, and there’s virtually nothing that isn’t part of the package. Echoing other critical sentiments, as enjoyable as most of FX’s The People v. O.J. Simpson was, this is in an entirely different league. It’s a 96-yard scamper into the end zone, exposing the worst of society’s past and present, and an unimaginable tragedy that changed our country forever.
Captivating, infuriating, haunting, unflinching, and game changing, O.J.: Made in America achieves my highest recommendation. There is absolutely no excuse to even consider missing it, and you’ll be thinking about it long after its over. Even Gary Lionelli’s score is fabulous. There are just no negatives to be found here. I like to try and find balance, but we’re in the penthouse here and we’re not paying to stay there.
Ezra Edelman has set the bar, and I can’t even imagine what creation might be out there that could surpass his latest vision. Whatever awards he wants, even if he’s not eligible, just hand them to him. If he wants Best Animated Feature at the Tony’s (which doesn’t exist), he’s the winner. Create it.
In the middle of the series, there’s a shot of the USC band on the field in a formation that spells out “OJ.” The members then dissolve as the song ends, and watching the name disintegrate from sight feels like the perfect shot, the one that says it all, even if unintentionally.
(O.J.: Made in America begins Saturday night on ABC at 9 PM ET, with parts 2-5 airing next Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night, also at 9 ET, on ESPN.)
I’m @GuyNamedJason on Twitter. Follow me and let’s talk TV. It’s what I do.
