2016 - 2016
American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson aired on FX across ten episodes from February to April 2016. It is the first chapter of Ryan Murphy's American Crime Story anthology, and it arrived a full generation after the trial it dramatises. That twenty-year gap is the whole reason the show works. A country that watched the Bronco chase live in 1994 had very different questions by 2016 about the LAPD and about celebrity. Different questions about race, and about what the Simpson verdict actually meant.
Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Nina Jacobson produced. Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski wrote the scripts, adapting Jeffrey Toobin's 1996 book The Run of His Life: The People v. O.J. Simpson. Murphy directed several episodes himself. John Singleton, director of Boyz n the Hood, directed the ones that lean hardest into the LAPD and the 1992 riots, which is the kind of casting decision behind the camera that tells you what the show is trying to do.
I came to this expecting a true-crime procedural. It is not really that. It is closer to a ten-hour argument about why the verdict came out the way it did, told through the people who stood closest to it.
Cuba Gooding Jr. plays O.J. Simpson. The role is not written as a mystery. The show takes no position on factual guilt in its first episode and then does not raise the question again, because the verdict was never really about that. What you watch instead is a man who has spent thirty years being "The Juice" slowly realising the machinery that used to protect him is about to eat him, and then hiring the people who might save him anyway.
Those people are the defence. Johnnie Cochran, played by Courtney B. Vance in a performance that won him an Emmy and deserved it. Robert Shapiro, played by John Travolta in a bold, stylised, slightly alien reading that divided critics and that I find works on rewatch. Robert Kardashian, played by David Schwimmer in the best dramatic work of his career. F. Lee Bailey (Nathan Lane) and Barry Scheck (Rob Morrow) round out the dream team. Schwimmer's "the Juice is loose" scene with his kids is a small, clever beat about where the Kardashian name came from and where it was about to go.
Opposite them, the prosecution is losing the case in slow motion and cannot see it. Sarah Paulson's Marcia Clark is the centre of the show. Her Emmy for the role is one of the least arguable wins of that decade. The performance lets Clark be competent, exhausted, tabloid-hounded, and unfashionably certain all at once, and the writing lets the viewer feel how thoroughly the system was never built for a woman prosecuting this case. Sterling K. Brown as Christopher Darden is the show's quiet devastation. This was his breakthrough, and you can see exactly why. Bruce Greenwood plays DA Gil Garcetti as a man who does not understand the fight he is in. Christian Clemenson brings a rumpled dignity to Bill Hodgman.
Nathan Lane
F. Lee Bailey
Sterling K. Brown
Christopher Darden
Sarah Paulson
Marcia Clark
David Schwimmer
Robert Kardashian
Kenneth Choi
Judge Lance Ito
Selma Blair
Kris Jenner
John Travolta
Robert Shapiro
Cuba Gooding Jr.
O.J. Simpson
Around the edges: Kenneth Choi as Judge Lance Ito, gradually flattened by the spotlight. Evan Handler as Alan Dershowitz. Connie Britton as Faye Resnick, whose tell-all book turns grief into celebrity in real time. Selma Blair, in a recast part, as a young Kris Jenner, and every scene she is in quietly sketches the pop culture the trial will leave behind.
The show's thesis is that the Simpson verdict cannot be understood outside the LAPD, Rodney King, and the 1992 Los Angeles riots. That is not a flourish. It is the spine. Two and a half years before Simpson's jury was seated, that same city had watched a beaten Rodney King on tape. Watched four officers walk free for doing it. Watched a neighbourhood burn in response. Mark Fuhrman did not arrive as a neutral witness for anyone who lived in south Los Angeles in 1992. Johnnie Cochran did not have to invent a context. He walked into a courtroom that was already sitting inside one.
The writing refuses to pretend that celebrity and race were somehow separate questions from the trial itself. They were the trial. The show gives Cochran his famous "if it doesn't fit, you must acquit" moment without turning it into a stunt, because the glove demonstration is not the point. The point is a legal team telling a jury what the city of Los Angeles had already told them for years about how policing in their neighbourhoods worked.
A jury does not arrive empty. It arrives with a city's memory already inside it.
That reading is controversial. It is also correct. The show earns it.
Visually the show does a clever thing. The 1994 scenes look like 1994, all grain and VHS tape and low-res news chyrons, but the filmmaking inside that look is modern and muscular. The Bronco chase recreation in the second episode is the best piece of direction Ryan Murphy has put his name on, cross-cutting helicopter footage, Al Cowlings in the driver's seat, the freeways shutting down, Kardashian reading the note on live television. It is more tense than the real thing. I watched that episode twice in a row the first time I saw it, and it holds up better than the news coverage I actually remember from the day.
Signature choices you remember:
The show swept the 2016 Emmys. Outstanding Limited Series. Paulson for lead actress. Vance for supporting actor. Writing for Alexander and Karaszewski. Sterling K. Brown for supporting actor. Five wins in the top limited series categories in a single year is the kind of run a show only gets when the work genuinely is that much better than the field.
Critics treated it as the most serious prestige drama FX had aired since The Shield. It revived Ryan Murphy's standing with critics who had cooled on late American Horror Story and gave American Crime Story a future. Subsequent seasons covered the murder of Gianni Versace and the Clinton-Lewinsky impeachment with mixed results. Neither matched the first.
Culturally the show did something rarer. It made a generation who had not lived through the trial care about it, and it forced a generation who had lived through it to look at it again with fresh eyes. The Kardashian footnote, played straight, lands as a sly editorial on the pop culture the verdict helped invent.
Two reasons. First, it treats the trial as the legal and social event it actually was, not as a whodunit it was never going to solve. Second, it found Sarah Paulson, Courtney B. Vance, and Sterling K. Brown at the exact moment all three could deliver the performances of their careers, and it wrote them the parts to do it.
Ten episodes, no padding. The show knows what it is arguing, and it treats a national wound with more honesty than the 1995 cameras ever did.
Woke Rating: {{show:american-crime-story-oj:woke}}/5 ยท Ranked: {{show:american-crime-story-oj:rank_full}}
If you want legal drama done as character study, The Night Of is the closest peer on the site. Waco is another Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski anthology chapter about a notorious American event. Mare of Easttown shares the prosecutorial exhaustion and the rot-at-the-edges small-system feel. And Dopesick, Inventing Anna, and The Dropout sit alongside it as the other prestige limited series that treated recent American history as serious adult drama.
Connie Britton
Faye Resnick
Bruce Greenwood
DA Gil Garcetti
Rob Morrow
Barry Scheck
Courtney B. Vance
Johnnie Cochran
Christian Clemenson
Bill Hodgman