The extraordinary five-part ESPN documentary, O.J.: Made in America, concluded over the weekend. In the aftermath, many have wondered, "Why, after all these years, are we still so interested in Simpson's sordid saga?" Of course, many reply that his case encompassed myriad social structures--race, class, sexuality--that were not only at the forefront of our consciousness in the 1990s, but are still relevant today. Others may say that Simpson's celebrity is why we are so intrigued--as the film states, there is perhaps no more famous person in American history to stand trial for murder. But I contend that our fascination with Simpson the man, his life, and his tragic legacy is rooted in literature. The Greeks have already told us a similar story many times over.
Even 2,500 years ago, the key themes of literature (and life) were already being explored. A fundamental facet of Greek literature was a character wrestling with identity. In the opening lines of Sophocles's Oedipus the King, Oedipus says, "I, Oedipus, whom all men call the Great." (In other versions, the line reads, "I, Oedipus, who bear the famous name.") But right from the start, we aren't quite sure of his greatness, and we wonder who this guy is really. Sophocles's drama takes place during the transition between traditional law and natural law (reason of the self). Therefore, how do I know who I am? By which law—by institutions or the self? Also, Oedipus becomes king not through hereditary claims, but through his own virtues—he is a success story, a self-made man, a fixer, a leader. Sound like Simpson?
Simpson's entire life was a wrestling match with identity. He grew up black and poor, but became accepted by whites and wealth, much to the dismay of many. He was constantly trying to present himself in the best possible light to whichever group he needed to accept him. There is, of course, nothing necessarily wrong with that (as we all do this), but as the film shows us, a confusion of self can lead to conflict with the very groups to which one wishes to be ingratiated. An unclear identity can be a foundational element in literary and real world drama.
Aristotle said that the dramatic protagonist should be renowned and prosperous, so his change of fortune can be from good to bad. This change should come about as the result, not of vice, but of some great error or frailty in a character. This is often called hamartia. Oedipus's downfall is his personal pride that he can solve any problem, along with his refusal to listen to anyone else's advice. Simpson was much the same in his own life, as his character flaw was also over-confidence. He knew he could get away with anything. His belief in his own ability, charisma, and connections blinded him to the dangers that surrounded him. He could talk his way into endorsement deals. And he could talk his way out of domestic abuse charges. Simpson was the ultimate charmer, which is why the public loved him--and also why they enabled him.
The documentary does a great job of showing archival footage of Simpson's entire life, from the hero we thought he was in the 1960s and 1970s to the disaster he became in the 1990s and 2000s. The film is distractingly heavy-handed in its racial positions, but such ideas are interesting nonetheless. The analysis of the criminal trial is so intricate and insightful, it's almost cringe-inducing to hear the evidence and arguments presented with such depth. And to see jurors make their decisions based not on facts but on personal preferences borders on sickening. Simpson's demise culminates with him in prison, after being charged with armed robbery in Las Vegas. His last words of the film encapsulate the man's entire life: he just wanted to be remembered. How Greek indeed.
Take a closer look at Greek drama, and you'll see that what tends to draw our attention in society is deeply rooted in classic literature. And one more eerie reminder from Greek drama: Sophocles's play is often known by two titles, Oedipus Rex (which in Latin means the king), and Oedipus Tyrannus (which in Greek means the tyrant). Yikes.
Even 2,500 years ago, the key themes of literature (and life) were already being explored. A fundamental facet of Greek literature was a character wrestling with identity. In the opening lines of Sophocles's Oedipus the King, Oedipus says, "I, Oedipus, whom all men call the Great." (In other versions, the line reads, "I, Oedipus, who bear the famous name.") But right from the start, we aren't quite sure of his greatness, and we wonder who this guy is really. Sophocles's drama takes place during the transition between traditional law and natural law (reason of the self). Therefore, how do I know who I am? By which law—by institutions or the self? Also, Oedipus becomes king not through hereditary claims, but through his own virtues—he is a success story, a self-made man, a fixer, a leader. Sound like Simpson?
Simpson's entire life was a wrestling match with identity. He grew up black and poor, but became accepted by whites and wealth, much to the dismay of many. He was constantly trying to present himself in the best possible light to whichever group he needed to accept him. There is, of course, nothing necessarily wrong with that (as we all do this), but as the film shows us, a confusion of self can lead to conflict with the very groups to which one wishes to be ingratiated. An unclear identity can be a foundational element in literary and real world drama.
Aristotle said that the dramatic protagonist should be renowned and prosperous, so his change of fortune can be from good to bad. This change should come about as the result, not of vice, but of some great error or frailty in a character. This is often called hamartia. Oedipus's downfall is his personal pride that he can solve any problem, along with his refusal to listen to anyone else's advice. Simpson was much the same in his own life, as his character flaw was also over-confidence. He knew he could get away with anything. His belief in his own ability, charisma, and connections blinded him to the dangers that surrounded him. He could talk his way into endorsement deals. And he could talk his way out of domestic abuse charges. Simpson was the ultimate charmer, which is why the public loved him--and also why they enabled him.
The documentary does a great job of showing archival footage of Simpson's entire life, from the hero we thought he was in the 1960s and 1970s to the disaster he became in the 1990s and 2000s. The film is distractingly heavy-handed in its racial positions, but such ideas are interesting nonetheless. The analysis of the criminal trial is so intricate and insightful, it's almost cringe-inducing to hear the evidence and arguments presented with such depth. And to see jurors make their decisions based not on facts but on personal preferences borders on sickening. Simpson's demise culminates with him in prison, after being charged with armed robbery in Las Vegas. His last words of the film encapsulate the man's entire life: he just wanted to be remembered. How Greek indeed.
Take a closer look at Greek drama, and you'll see that what tends to draw our attention in society is deeply rooted in classic literature. And one more eerie reminder from Greek drama: Sophocles's play is often known by two titles, Oedipus Rex (which in Latin means the king), and Oedipus Tyrannus (which in Greek means the tyrant). Yikes.