“OJ: Made in America,” despite a running time of just under eight hours, is actually the more minimalist of recent OJ Simpson portrayals. The series — the latest entry in ESPN’s “30 for 30” documentary programming — was directed by Ezra Edelman and premieres on June 11, with its first episode appearing on ABC and subsequent ones shifting to ESPNs. (The series was screened in full at the Sundance Film Festival and opened a few weeks ago in two theaters in New York and Los Angeles in order to qualify for an Oscar nomination.) It stands in stark contrast to “The People vs. OJ Simpson,” the well-received fictionalized account of Simpson’s murder trial, painted in broad, garish strokes, that recently aired on FX. Where the latter is a dramatized reenactment, a form of ventriloquism mock-celebrating a period seen as suggestive of our celebrity-obsessed present, the former is a sort of pointillism within a larger canvas — presenting small details instead of generalizations — posing questions not just about what happened but how and why.The answers to those questions are extremely complex and extend far beyond the series’ ostensible subject. What Edelman’s project does extremely well is make connections between disparate moments, with long sequences about the often sickening history of the Los Angeles Police Department. Tensions between the blatantly racist force and the population boiled over in two key events: the 1965 Watts riots and the 1992 riots over the acquittal of four LAPD officers caught on videotape beating Rodney King. These coincided with Simpson’s upward trajectory as a football player and celebrity. In 1965, he was just about to become a star running back for the University of Southern California. In 1992, the unrest was happening not far from his home in the gilded community of Brentwood, where he had spent most of his time since retiring from football while trying, and mostly failing, to make it in Hollywood. In the years between, he had become a hero and a bit of a joke, the man who defied defenses on the playing field and was now running interference for Hertz.In 1994, he became a villain. The story is well known. Simpson’s ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend Ronald Goldman were found murdered outside her home. Simpson was the main suspect, and he was tried on two counts of murder. The trial became a media sensation, with news outlets poring over every grisly detail of the crime, along with the contentious back-and-forth between the defense and the prosecution. Lawyers, judges, and people called to the stand became overnight celebrities, while outside the courthouse the crowd of people cheering for Simpson’s freedom grew ever larger.Edelman’s project presents the crime’s horrific details, while also giving ample time to jury members and Simpson supporters. These saw the trial as an extension of what had been happening between the police and the black population for decades. The specifics didn’t matter. Members of the LAPD had been found innocent by a court of law for crimes that could be seen on videotape. So why shouldn’t the Juice, a guy once considered a hero, be afforded the same privilege?Complicating the story is Simpson’s thorny relationship with his own race. He had made clear over the years his discomfort with being identified as black and would often stumble over questions about race during interviews. His move to Brentwood, surrounded by rich white people, was the ultimate act of assimilation. He was so rich that the color of his skin didn’t matter anymore. Then he found himself in the middle of a murder trial where the color of his skin was used a strategy. He needed to embrace what he had once tried to shed, play a role he had once disdained playing.Simpson eventually got lost in that role. The final part of Edelman’s series, about what happened after the murder trial, is the most tragic. With his freedom, Simpson spins out of control. He drifts away from the people in his life, starts to hang out with a younger crowd and think of himself as an outlaw. He smokes cigars, goes to strip clubs, and gets involves with drugs. People take advantage of him, and he begins to lose everything. There is a desperate need for attention. He becomes a twisted combination of self-absorbed hero and media pariah, a man who has beat the system and revels in his status as an enemy of the people.We love someone who overcomes the odds, but we don’t like when they gloat about it. This is an American story: the rise and fall of a hero. More specifically, this is a modern American story, the arc of the narrative propelled by issues of race and class, illuminated by the spotlight of the media’s obsession with fame and scandal. If Simpson had gone into hiding after the trail, holed up in his Brentwood estate, people would have forgotten about him, moved on to the next transgression splashed across the front page. Who knows — there could have even been room for a comeback. Stranger things have happened. But instead Simpson took what we made of him and ran with it, and because of that he had to pay.
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