A new series does justice to the O.J. Simpson trial

By R.L.

HOW do you dramatise the “Trial of the Century”? Some 150m people worldwide watched Orenthal James (“O.J.”) Simpson be acquitted of murder on live television. In a nation enthralled by the fall of an American-football superstar, $480m was lost in economic productivity as people remained glued to blanket media coverage for over a year. Few remain unaware of the grisly details of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman’s murders on June 13^th1994—and the epigrammatic closing argument of Johnnie Cochrane, Mr Simpson's defense lawyer, has a place deep in America's consciousness: “If the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” You could be forgiven for being sceptical of anyone promising anything new about the case.

The fame of the trial makes it a bold choice for the inaugural season of “American Crime Story”, a proposed anthology of “true crime” re-enactments. There is the dual challenge of telling a familiar tale in a new way while remaining faithful to the facts. Visual and factual accuracy was clearly a primary concern for producers—the recreation of the crime scene in the show’s opening minutes is particularly striking—and the screenwriters have carefully woven together their source material. But there is also striking detail included in the show that came to light years after the trial's end. These bits and pieces lack the place in the popular memory that the well-known details of the trial itself have. “American Crime Story” has Simpson failing a lie-detector test shortly after the murders, a fact revealed in 2000 by defence lawyer F. Lee Bailey; and threatening suicide in Kardashian’s home, as later disclosed by Kardashian himself. Any creative licence used is unobtrusive—the drama can be enjoyed without constant googling of the facts. Viewers get a comprehensive, multi-perspective account of what unfolded.

Overlaying it with such memorable faces as John Travolta (who plays Robert Shapiro, Mr Simpson’s legal counsel), David Schwimmer (Robert Kardashian, a friend, lawyer, and part of Mr Simpson’s legal team), and Cuba Gooding, Jr. in the title role is another bold choice. So far (Prospero was granted access to the first three episodes), these decisions have been vindicated. Mr Gooding is threatening and emotionally nuanced as Mr Simpson, at times even eliciting sympathy. Mr Travolta’s bullish Shapiro punctuates the drama with humour, and throws Mr Schwimmer’s perennially-forlorn Kardashian into relief.

“American Crime Story” challenges viewers’ allegiances throughout, repeatedly toying with the question of Mr Simpson’s guilt. Flitting between fits of rage and ominous glares and weeping declarations of love for his dead ex-wife, it is hard to pin down Mr Gooding’s character. Where the prosecution is presented as obstinate, naïve and arrogant (lead prosecutor Marcia Clark, played by Sarah Paulson, calls the case a “slam dunk” and remarks coolly that Simpson “practically did [her] job for [her]”), Mr Simpson’s legal counsel introduces intrigue into the narrative and propels it forward. They must unpick an enormous amount of evidence, and it is exciting to watch them do so. They understand, and prey on, public sentiment—introducing the Los Angeles Police Department’s systemic racism as the backbone of their defence—while the prosecution barely considers its importance, blindly believing that evidence alone will convict Mr Simpson. Even viewers that approach this series rooting for the prosecution, convinced of the former star’s guilt, will relish the moments that Mr Travolta and Mr Gooding are on screen.

Also impressive is the way in which the show handles the racial maelstrom surrounding the trial, which was informed by the Los Angeles race riots two years earlier—footage of which opens the first episode. It explores the allegiance of black communities to Mr Simpson on an “emotional…not rational” level (in the rueful words of a black member of the prosecuting team, Christopher Darden), whereby Simpson’s arrest falls into a familiar story of black persecution at the hands of the police. But perhaps the most intriguing statement on race comes from Mr Gooding’s Simpson himself. Visited by his lawyers in prison, he vehemently objects to the introduction of race into his defence: “I’m not black, I’m O.J.!” His treatment by the police—who allow him to talk to his mother for an hour before finally turning himself in—contrasts bluntly to that of Rodney King, a black driver whose savage police beating set off the 1992 riots. Simpson's treatment suggests that the cops also think of him in non-racial terms, not merely a retired football player but a “Greek god” or “idol”. He is referred to mostly by his moniker “Juice”, even by himself, his family and his friends.

Whether “American Crime Story” can maintain the suspense going into the courtroom is yet to be seen. Avoiding a simple replay of the trial will be difficult—but exploring the numerous sidebars that took place among the legal counsels and the frictions within both the prosecution and defence teams should offer viewers something they haven’t seen before. Aside from some superfluous contemporary references—having the Kardashian children chant their own name, and endure a lecture on how “being a good person is more important than being famous” from their father—“American Crime Story” looks poised to be one of the year’s television highlights. Everyone knows how it will end. But that won’t make it any less compelling.

The People v OJ Simpson is currently showing on FX in America and will premiere in Britain on February 15th, BBC Two