Storyline: I felt joy. I felt rage. I felt disgust. I felt sick. I felt pain. I felt all of those things while watching, OJ: Made in America. It’s a story about fame gone wrong, a celebrity turned into a killer, and how that fame and a city’s brutal history allowed him to go free.
I had zero interest when the documentary O.J.: Made in America debuted earlier this month. As a college student I had followed the spectacle pretty closely over twenty years ago. There was no need to revisit the Ford Bronco chase during the 1994 NBA Finals. I had no time for “the gloves don’t fit so you must acquit” rhetoric of Johnnie Cochran. I already knew about the inconceivable ‘Not Guilty verdict despite overwhelming evidence.
The Juice was now in jail for a 2007 robbery, so karmic justice had finally been served. What was the point of revisiting this horrible story?
Courtesy: insider.com
Who had the time? The documentary was also split into five parts at two hours a piece … and I just didn’t want to make that type of commitment. Then my mistake—or what turned out to be my viewing pleasure—was watching ESPN when Part One of the documentary was replayed one evening.
I was only partly watching in the beginning when the USC highlights grabbed my full attention and immediately. O.J. gliding through would-be tacklers would catch any football fan’s eye. I couldn’t help but put down my iPhone. Then the documentary really got interesting.
The documentary cut away from anything O.J. related and started going into the history of the African-American migration into California. The story documented the start of the contentious (and mostly brutal) relationship between the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) and the black community. These violent encounters eventually led to the Watts Riots of 1965. The nation as a whole moved into the Civil Rights era of the late ‘60s. The era of Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, and Jim Brown was now, but Simpson wanted no part of it.
“I’m not black, I’m O.J.”
That was Simpson’s response to Dr. Harry Edwards, a sociologist, who was trying to get major sports stars of the ‘60’s to join the black power movement. O.J. wanted nothing to do with race and his African-American heritage. He wanted fame, money, and recognition. Being black stood in the way of material pursuits.
That’s the major juxtaposition of the documentary, directed by Ezra Edelman. It makes sense, too. The eventual verdict has everything to do with race, the history of the L.A.P.D., and the city’s black citizens.
Courtesy: inverse.com
The documentary continues with Simpson’s career with the Buffalo Bills as he breaks Jim Brown’s single season rushing record. His popularity grew even more in Hollywood as the face of Hertz rental cars and as an eventual movie star. He was a shining example of a “the black man” in white America as opposed to the raised black fists of Olympians Tommie Smith and John Carlos.
O.J. eventually left his former wife, a lovely black woman from his high school days, to begin a tumultuous relationship with the beautiful Nicole Brown. Brown, as we all know, was young, blonde, and white. O.J. continued to erase any “blackness” he had left.
Simpson lived in Brentwood, CA and was ‘straight’ Hollywood. The police brutality that existed in other parts of L.A.—just down the expressway—had no impact on the former football, and now, movie star.
The documentary dives into several cases that increased the boiling point of race relations in in L.A., including the shooting of Eula Love in front of her own children over a $20 dollar utility bill. No charges were filed against the officers. The murder of 15-year old Latasha Harlins by a Korean store owner, Soon Ja Du, was caught on tape. Du was fined $500 and sentenced to a five-year probation. Then the Rodney King beating and L.A. riots of 1992 happened. All of these events (and more) helps paint a picture why O.J. was declared innocent in the 1994 murder case.
Courtesy: TVGuide
Fame was already helping O.J. evade any prosecution of wrongdoing before the murders. Several times police were called out to the Simpson estate in Brentwood due to calls of domestic violence. Several photos of Nicole show an obvious pattern of abuse, but O.J.’s friends—also known as the L.A.P.D.—never took action besides verbal warnings. Simpson was finally convicted of assault, but the only price he paid was community service. Most of those hours were spent organizing a celebrity golf tournament.
All of these details set the stage for what may be the most famous murder case in America. It helps us understand what really happened 20 years ago and why it happened the way it did. The verdict was not something anyone could understand because all the evidence was there to convict O.J.
No, this verdict was based on emotion and the result was because the defendant happened to be rich and famous. No one wanted to believe ‘The Juice’ could murder anyone.
I’ve laid out some details that got me hooked on the documentary. But, just like the case, this movie is so much more than the details. It’s about the emotions of watching history unfold.
I felt joy watching O.J. highlights as a Buffalo Bill, slipping through defenders gracefully as one of the best running backs ever. You can see the elation of his teammates as he includes them in his record-breaking performance.
Courtesy: blackhistorycollection.org
I felt rage as I watched the police continue their onslaught against the black community. No one is ever held accountable. The officers never face charges, even though their violent actions are right there on tape to be witnessed. How many black men were sent to prison for less evidence then video? You can almost understand why the jurors ignored obvious evidence and voted with emotion in the Simpson case.
I felt disgust seeing these same L.A. cops let Simpson off the hook, time and time again, even though there’s a clear pattern of abuse. It was ignored because of his fame and celebrity.
I felt sick after seeing the ghastly photos of the murder scene with the bodies of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman covered in blood.
I felt pain for their family members, having to endure this atrocity forever.
That is where the documentary truly succeeds in my opinion. The emotions it elicits through the interviews, music, and historical footage is remarkable. I even found myself feeling a slight amount of pity for O.J. at the end, after he was convicted of the 2007 armed robbery.
It’s a story of fame gone wrong, a celebrity turned into a killer, and how that fame and a city’s brutal history allowed him to go free.
It’s a true American story–a complete tragedy–that’s worth the time to watch.
