The “Trial of The Century” is beginning—but to put on the show, you need an audience. That’s the role of jury selection—a process of making logical decisions about illogical things. It’s a racist, sexist, and biased part of the trial because the lawyers have to anticipate the racism, sexism, and biases of potential jurors. As a lawyer, you want to include jurors who are sympathetic to your narrative, considering factors like their sex, race, and marital status. Episode four of “American Crime Story” fills the 12 front-row seats for the nationwide event.

Jury Selection

The jury analysts contacted in O. J. Simpson’s case give simple advice: listen to the data rather than your own ethics. For someone like Marcia Clark, who strives to be racially fair and unprejudiced in the workplace, this advice may be hard to take to heart. Ordinarily, a woman being told to soften her appearance by dressing more femininely and changing her haircut would reek of workplace sexism. But in this case, it may be the only way Clark can get the jury on her side. As long as sexism and racism exist, the law will have to react to these very real prejudices.

“American Crime Story” paints Marcia Clark’s underestimation of race and its influence on the trail as her biggest mistake. She ignores what the focus group tells her about her poor rapport with black women because she has had great experiences with black-majority juries before. She’s content to allow the defense’s selection of black jurors because she sees them as logical and reasonable individuals. When her colleague accuses defense lawyers of playing the race card, our attention shifts its focus. At that point, the episode’s other central theme comes to a head—just who is in charge of O.J. Simpson’s defense team?

A Dream Team Divided

The dream team that we watched assemble in the previous episode is turning out to be a bit of a nightmare. They’re still a supergroup a famous and successful lawyers, but there’s only room for so many big personalities at the defense table. There are many rational reasons to debate whether Johnny Cochran or Robert Shapiro should be the lead attorney. Shapiro started with the case, knows O.J. personally, and has invested significant effort, time, and money into his strategy. He’s also known as a settler, and at one point proposes that O.J. adjust his charges to manslaughter and hope for a lighter sentence.

On the other hand, we have Johnnie Cochran who is the total opposite of a settler. He comes alive in the courtroom, persuading juries and presenting the facts like no one else can. He’s a showboat, but prosecutors are right to be scared of his dedication and savvy. The decision between these two attorneys didn’t exclusively come down consideration of their talent. In large part, Cochran was chosen because he is black and will be able to relate better to the jury.

The police department begins to bend to the same pressure when District Attorney Garcetti suggest that they spice up their lineup with a black attorney as well. Marcia Clark shows both heart and cunning when she chooses this as the opportunity to recognize Christopher Darden, who had previously been overlooked for his effort.

Showing Some Heart

Because so much of this episode, and the show in general, is centered on Marcia Clark’s humanity working against her, it’s easy to miss that the show has some heart. In Murphy’s previous work, such as the early seasons of “Glee,” the show excelled when exploring an emotion plainly and honestly with no sense of bombast or pandering. These moments were rare but touching. In this episode of “American Crime Story,” we explore the tragedy of a double homicide without the lens of irony. Meeting the father of Ronald Lyle Goldman and seeing how completely torn apart he is by the death of his son affects us. It shows us how the media obsession with the case’s drama and intrigue can cause real damage to the people affected. This show of unrestrained emotion helps to counterbalance the show’s habit of indulging the pulpy and fun aspect of the case.

Ronald Lyle Goldman’s father at his funeral and seeing how completely torn apart he is by the death of his son affects us. It shows us how the media obsession with the case’s drama and intrigue can cause real damage to the people affected. This show of unrestrained emotion helps to counterbalance the show’s habit of indulging the pulpy and fun aspect of the case.

The good news is the Kardashian children did not make an appearance in Tuesday’s episode. The bad news is that the material that replaced it was still over-steeped in irony and cheekiness. Episode four chronicles Faye Resnick’s “authorship” of a tell-all Nichole Brown Simpson biography in pure Ryan Murphy fashion. Actress Connie Britton hamming up her chance to play the “bad girl” so much that the scene can’t be deemed kosher. Resnick’s book did play a part in the voir dire process, but there are dense sections of the episode in which Britton’s monologs about Nicole and O. J.’s intimate past. Murphy can’t resist giving you the saucy details and then reminding you over and over how saucy they are.

Episode four of “American Crime Story” walks the fine line between what is ethical and what is effective. Clark’s team of prosecutors are focused on doing what is right while Simpson’s defense team is focused on whatever method will actually work. I suspect we’ll see the prosecutors fall further and further from their position on the moral high ground, as they find themselves unable to compete with their opposition’s cutthroat willingness to do whatever it takes to win. We already know how this ends—the ‘bad guys’ win. And we’re beginning to see the prosecution’s confidence chipping away.

Sean Simon

Sean Simon is an Editorial News Senior Fellow at Law Street, and a senior at The George Washington University, studying Communications and Psychology. In his spare time, he loves exploring D.C. restaurants, solving crossword puzzles, and watching sad foreign films. Contact Sean at SSimon@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post “American Crime Story” Wants A Good Jury, Not A Fair One appeared first on Law Street.

If they introduce the attorneys in a case like they announce an NFL team’s lineup before the game, it would look a lot like episode three of “American Crime Story: The People v. O. J. Simpson.” One by one, John Travolta’s plastic-faced Robert Shapiro assembles the behemoth legal team behind O. J. Simpson. We’re given the sense that the show is done revving its engine now, and it’s ready to speed along into familiar territory. The key here, building further on the earlier background episodes, is the word “familiar.” Is this where fatigue sets in?

When you’re telling people a story they already know, there is additional pressure to make your telling fresh. Since the show was announced, it has lived under the shadow of the public’s own knowledge of the case. It’s like watching a movie after reading the plot summary online. Or catching up on a TV show after your friend has spoiled the plot twists for you. As dramatic and intense the production becomes, it can’t escape the fact that it is by nature a surprise-less story. Therein lies the trouble for high-profile true crime: getting an audience to care again. “Serial’s”  first season, and “Making A Murderer” both focus on relatively low-profile cases—viewers don’t know what to expect and are surprised by each new witness or piece of evidence. That’s the trouble faced by “Serial’s” second season, in which they took on the high-profile case of Bowe Bergdahl.

The Challenge of Familiarity

With “American Crime Story,” audiences can’t be shocked. This alone doesn’t devalue the show, in fact, it makes the show better. That’s because the Clark’s team of prosecutors faces the same problem. Their witnesses are gabbing on television about what they saw, and the 911 tape is playing day in and day out on national television. Their jury will have already heard the story, already seen the evidence. By the time they’re in trial, it’ll be double exposure.

Ryan Murphy, the show’s producer, is Marcia Clark, and we are his jury. That might be why Clark is given a much more empathetic position, as penance for the “dowdy,” “bitchy,” and “shrill” comments hurled at her at the time. So how do Murphy and his team liven up an over-exposed story?

Much like the lawyers in O. J.’s case, “American Crime Story” needs to decide on a fresh narrative angle and make it stick. In its third episode, the show does just that, cementing several through lines. We’ve got the race angle, which builds as scheming lawyers construct a defense; the failure-of-justice angle, as we follow a cocky prosecutor losing her confidence; and the repercussions of fame angle, demonstrated most clearly through the Kardashian family’s rise to notoriety. And there’s a glimmer of themes to come, as the focus on Marcia Clark’s home life suggests the show will address sexism in upcoming episodes.

The race angle is “American Crime Story’s” most evident effort to make Simpson’s case relevant. The vignettes and quotes in episode three continue the pattern of looking at Simpson as both an example of and an exception to racial biases. For every TIME magazine cover darkening Simpson’s appearance, there’s a barb from Clark saying, “Doesn’t Simpson deserve a jury of his peers, you know, rich middle-aged white men?” That’s the balance struck by the show: when Shapiro tells Simpson “We get one black juror, we get a hung jury, you’re going home,” Simpson responds, “I’m not black, I’m O.J.” We see Shapiro dance around the word “black” as he explains why he wants Johnnie Cochran to join Simpson’s team.

Making it Resonate

As the titular dream team drums up sympathy for a ‘racist police’ defense, they’re riding on the coattails of earlier tragedies such as Rodney King and the Christopher Commission. This begs a valuable question: does it cheapen or invalidate the true injustices they’re referencing? To compare the sham of a racist cop defense with actual atrocities might lump those events together, in a disservice to the truly innocent victims of police violence. “American Crime Story” stays fresh because it makes us ask these questions about a decades-old case.

As for the miscarriage of justice, Clark’s confidence has been steeled even further since Simpson’s arrest. “A star is born” we hear her say. “He practically did my job for me” she boasts to co-workers as she delivers high-fives. A hyper-confident Clark at the beginning of the series builds tension in the viewer, who knows that failure is looming for her. We know she’ll fall, but just how and when remains to be seen.

While it makes for gripping television, the actual Marcia Clark clarified in an interview with Vulture that she was nowhere near as confident as her character on the series:

I’m sorry, the truth is, we were not [confident]. We’ve got to look confident, though. I’m not going to go out to the press and say, Oh, we’re going to lose! I have to present a confident case.

And finally, fame. Fame has long been a favorite topic of Murphy’s, ranging from “Nip/Tuck” to “Glee” to “Scream Queens.” An obsession with celebrity, along with its perils, has always been on the forefront of his productions. As for “American Crime Story,” the show deals best with fame when it discusses its intersection with race and gender and justice. It falters when it delivers us scenes that feel like prequels to “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.” Like David Schwimmer’s professorial delivery of a diatribe to his children about the trap of fame exemplifies this issue. Saying, “We are Kardashians, and in this family being a good person and a loyal friend is more important than being famous” is so egregiously ironic that viewers may need to visit an optometrist to address eye-rolling-related strain.

As for additions to the already star-studded cast, some new faces get screen time in this episode. Nathan Lane provides a delightful and nuanced F. Lee Bailey, Evan Handler gives us Alan Dershowitz–the most lawyerly lawyer I’ve yet seen on television–and Selma Blair is handed a few lines, with which she plays Kris Jenner better than Kris Jenner could.

And now that the show has found its footing, confidently asserting exactly the story it’s telling and why you should be watching, we’ll be able to see the ensemble cast flourish in the part of the rich trial drama that America knows so well.

Sean Simon

Sean Simon is an Editorial News Senior Fellow at Law Street, and a senior at The George Washington University, studying Communications and Psychology. In his spare time, he loves exploring D.C. restaurants, solving crossword puzzles, and watching sad foreign films. Contact Sean at SSimon@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post “American Crime Story” Hits its Stride as the Dream Team Assembles appeared first on Law Street.

On Sunday, 167 million people watched a white Bronco carry his team to victory. Then on Tuesday, a few million people watched a white Bronco carry a fugitive along Interstate 405.

If you had asked me yesterday about O. J. Simpson’s breaking-news car chase in 1994, I could have probably told you that he drove down a Los Angeles highway in a white Ford Bronco, with officers in hot pursuit. I bet if you asked my parents to describe the same event, they’d paint a picture much closer to the events in episode two of “American Crime Story: The People v. O. J. Simpson.”

They’d mention how everyone was glued to their televisions, that the news networks all broke away from their scheduled programming for the live chase. They’d know that the chase was more of a motorcade, as the LAPD kowtowed to the demands of Simpson, who had a gun to his own head in the backseat of the car. They’d add that for six hours, the question of life or death for the actor and athlete was up in the air. Before watching “American Crime Story,” I knew none of these details, as many people my age fall into an O. J. knowledge gap that I mentioned when I covered the first episode of the series.

I was very skeptical when I heard that “American Crime Story” would weave real footage from the news into its dramatization. It could’ve been exploitative, dragging unsuspecting bystanders back into the fray, and might lend undue credibility to the drama’s version of the events. After watching two episodes, I’ll admit I was wrong. The footage is seamlessly integrated with the fiction, and I think it was the only way to give me some understanding of how it must have felt to watch the chase live.

Seeing Tom Brokaw and Bob Costas announcing the chase and read the news as their younger selves was also momentarily off-putting. It’s like seeing a young photo of Maggie Smith or Joe Biden–we understand that all older people were once young, but it’s still bracing to actually see their younger self. Being able to recognize the newscasters makes the viewing experience more immersive.

As for the part where we see the tiny Kardashian kids watching their father read an apparent suicide note on television; to me, the children chanting “Kar-da-shi-an!” breached the limits of the narrative–winking a bit too strongly at the modern audience, who might feel as though the television is constantly chanting “Kardashian” at them today.

Still, the Kardashian connection may become more meaningful if the show bridges their fame with the rise of 24-hour media and the dawn of reality TV. For months, The O. J. arrest, trial, and verdict dominated newspapers, magazines, and especially television. One character in “American Crime Story,” a television producer, said it best when he demanded that ABC’s feed change to the Bronco chase: “O. J. is news, entertainment, and sports.” This perfect storm of America’s obsessions: celebrity, race, crime, and politics set the fuse for the explosion of constantly breaking news and national television moments. Remember, this is well before “American Idol” capitalized on the unifying nature of live television.

And of course, the topic of race is discussed further in this second episode, as we meet Christopher Darden’s family and friends. They’ve got their television out by the pool, and they’re discussing the favorable treatment Simpson receives. “When he got rich, he became white” one character added. “The police are chasing him—he’s Black now!” another retorts. It’s curious to see the intersection of wealth and race in Simpson’s case, especially considering that most of the victims Black Lives Matter focuses on belong to a lower socioeconomic class.

Johnnie Cochran wastes no time in excusing Simpson’s actions by placing them in the context of race relations between the black community and the LAPD. Cochran evokes the story of Leonard Deadwyler, a black man who was shot while speeding his pregnant wife to the hospital. The series walks a fine line, as the defense’s claim of police racism is weakened by the fact that most Americans believe O. J. Simpson committed the 1994 murders. As the show moves into new territory, especially the specifics of the trial, we’ll see whether “American Crime Story” treats the defense’s case as a smokescreen or a real social injustice.

Sean Simon

Sean Simon is an Editorial News Senior Fellow at Law Street, and a senior at The George Washington University, studying Communications and Psychology. In his spare time, he loves exploring D.C. restaurants, solving crossword puzzles, and watching sad foreign films. Contact Sean at SSimon@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post “American Crime Story” Episode Two: The Bronco Chase appeared first on Law Street.

On October 3, 1995, seven jurors announced to the world that they found Orenthal James Simpson not guilty of two counts of murder. The very next day, as the widely televised news was printed in the daily newspapers, I was born.

Being a newborn infant, I was painfully unaware of the media spectacle, racial tensions, cultural effects, and legal quagmires presented by this all-consuming trial. Even as I grew up, I barely knew that it had happened. Later in my life, I was able to experience my own equivalents of “the trial of the century,” when Michael Jackson went to court for child molestation, and later again when Casey Anthony was acquitted of the first-degree murder of her daughter. The fact remains that when it comes to the O.J. Simpson trial, I knew next to nothing. Up until I watched the first episode of “American Crime Story,” which aired on Tuesday night, I probably would have said that the most influential result of the trial was the rise of the Kardashians. That just might be the case for many people my age.

Creator Ryan Murphy, showing much-welcomed restraint in his handling of the material, knows very well that in addition to a public who was saturated with O.J. melodrama twenty years ago, he is courting a millennial audience. Along with his large production team, Murphy needed to make 1994 feel relatable to a host of young viewers. In a way, seeing the ’90s on screen is like watching another world. It’s almost unrecognizable for me to see a waiter approach Rob Shapiro, played by John Travolta, to let him know someone had called the restaurant to ask for him. I’m reminded of the Seinfeld generation gap, in which cultural touchstones once considered universal are lost on the next generation of consumers.

Still, the odd experience of watching a “period piece” set in the very recent past is offset by the themes inherent to the story–race, privilege, and fame–will never be relegated to a specific generation. The narrative is framed smartly around these issues, chock full of quips about institutional racism in the police department and the preferential treatment of the rich and famous. In the hands of the man behind “Glee,” these lines could have easily felt glib, but in today’s social atmosphere they only seem prescient.

The show opens with real footage of the Rodney King beating, verdict, and ensuing L.A. riots. I recognized the event after piecing together the soundbites playing alongside the footage. During this opening montage, I realized, embarrassed, that I had never seen the video before. I wouldn’t be surprised if that held true for many people my age, even those following the progress of Black Lives Matter and other movements.

I’m led to believe that there’s a gap in your understanding of history during the period right before you’re born. You’re able to take stock of what’s happening in the world around you, feeling the aftershocks of a cultural phenomenon, but everything you’re taught in school is from well before. The phenomenon of textbooks and teachers waiting for the dust to settle before teaching about something that happened only a few years ago leaves many students unaware of the immediate past. Although I never thought I’d say this about yet another true crime drama, it’s refreshing for people my age to take our time understanding this case. In a world as rapidly-paced as ours has become, we rarely take the time to look back on the past, in fear that we might miss something that’s happening now.

So I’ll continue tuning in, assuming the show won’t fall prey to Murphy’s tendency to overblow plot arcs and schmaltz-soak finales (advance reviews seem to paint a positive picture of the direction of the show). I’m interested in watching the modern-day parallels develop, reading about what the dramatization gets wrong, and maybe, finally have a sense of what I missed out on just before I was born.

Sean Simon

Sean Simon is an Editorial News Senior Fellow at Law Street, and a senior at The George Washington University, studying Communications and Psychology. In his spare time, he loves exploring D.C. restaurants, solving crossword puzzles, and watching sad foreign films. Contact Sean at SSimon@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post “American Crime Story” Teaches Millennials A Much-Needed Lesson appeared first on Law Street.