There's been an intriguing trend cropping up in television and film lately, one embedded in the desire to backtrack to some of the most notorious celebrity scandals within the last several decades and examine them with a more distanced perspective. These revisits do more than provide a second look; they offer up a deeper consideration to those involved, many of them women, who were harshly lambasted in the public eye for perceived transgressions — and in many instances, the treatment they received was far from warranted. From Ryan Murphy's unevenly successful effort to tackle the most well-known White House affair in last year's Impeachment: American Crime Story (an attempt that certainly benefited from Monica Lewinsky's input during the production) to The New York Times Presents' documentary Finding Britney Spears (which bared the truth of the beloved pop star's mental health struggles playing out in the limelight and the media's culpability in the process), said retrospectives infuse their famous subjects with more humanity, afford them with the complexity they initially deserved, and don't necessarily cast judgment on them in the process.
On the heels of his 2017 film I, Tonya, Craig Gillespie is tackling yet another notorious blonde who wound up making headlines in the upcoming Hulu limited series Pam & Tommy. While the marketing leading up to its release would have you believe that this is more of the same from the director, a dark comedy laden with irreverence, energizing needle drops, and lots of middle fingers, the show performs an impressive turn around the halfway mark, reeling us into the personal lives of the people at the center of the scandal and telling an even stronger story about celebrity, the paper-thin divide between publicity and privacy, and what happens when human intimacy is swallowed up by glossy headlines.
Since the first images of them in character were released last year, it remained to be seen whether Lily James and Sebastian Stan would be able to do more than bear an impressive resemblance to the celebrities they're inhabiting — and while their performances could have very easily veered into caricature, there's enough complexity in both actors' portrayals to not just anchor the miniseries but the relationship we need to believe in for this narrative to hit hardest. As Tommy Lee, Stan is brash, loud, wild, a rocker-meets-himbo with a possible case of Peter Pan syndrome. He's struggling to maintain a grasp on his own fame even while his band Mötley Crüe finds itself losing listeners and album sales to the Nirvanas and Third Eye Blinds of the world. Simultaneously, Pamela Anderson's (James) star couldn't be hotter, her ascent in popularity courtesy of her role on Baywatch leaving her in hot demand (and on the receiving end of a lot of wagging male tongues) while she's got her eye on making the leap from television acting to starring in a major feature film.
The two lock eyes from across a crowded nightclub, and although it might not be textbook love at first sight, there's no denying their connection. From there, the show spotlights their whirlwind romance, with Tommy swooping in to whisk Pam away from wooing network affiliates in Mexico for a booze and drug-fueled series of nights that culminates in them being married on the beach (and yes, this sequence includes the widely-publicized scene — adapted from the real Lee's very memoir, actually — in which he and his penis, voiced by Jason Mantzoukas, have a debate over whether what he's feeling for Pam is actually more than fleeting lust). What proves equally hilarious and heartbreaking is the flight home, where these two people, now very sobered-up, realize they've just gotten hitched while knowing next to nothing about each other.
This leads us to the infamous sex tape — but what Pam & Tommy wants to make clear at almost every turn is that this isn't a story about portraying or recreating the more personal moments on said tape, not really. It all kicks off when handyman Rand Gauthier (Seth Rogen), who feels he's been screwed over by the Mötley Crüe drummer after he's fired in the middle of a construction job, orchestrates an excessively complex break-in to steal what he believes he's owed. Instead of taking back his carpentry tools or petty cash, he makes off with Tommy's safe, inside which contains a small tape among other pawnable items, and when Rand turns it over to porno director-producer Uncle Miltie (Nick Offerman), they decide they've got a potential gold mine on their hands after less than one viewing.
But what would seemingly be the most salacious aspect of the story — the tape itself — is never ours to see, only shown in brief early snippets or played with audio only in the background of Pamela's increasingly uncomfortable legal deposition later on — and given that the context of the recording is rooted in a moment of genuine intimacy, it's as if the show is trying to retroactively afford the right of privacy to the ones who originally featured on it. It's a subtle gesture that, for some viewers, might seem like too little too late considering the ubiquitous reach of the actual footage, but also feels handled with significantly more care in the hands of series directors Lake Bell, Gwyneth Horder-Payton, and Hannah Fidell, who take over duties from Gillespie for the second (and most pivotal) half of the series.
This half, unquestionably, is where James is also given the biggest chance to shine, and shine she does in rendering Pamela Anderson as more than an effigy crafted out of fantasy and silicone, portraying her as a woman with insecurities and vulnerabilities who should still get to possess the rights to her own body even though the rest of the world is convinced otherwise. The show emphasizes that Pamela is in an impossible position after the tape is leaked, thanks to the growing popularity and anonymity of the World Wide Web — a recipient of misogyny written under the guise of late-night jokes, as well as a subject of thinly-veiled condemnation for wanting autonomy and privacy in this particular situation. Previously baring it all for Playboy centerfolds, or running on the beach in a bright red one-piece carefully adjusted to emphasize certain assets without being flagged by the network censors, tragically gives her less of a leg to stand on when it comes to pleading her case for why images from the tape shouldn't be published in Penthouse.
Even Tommy doesn't seem to fully grasp that his wife is inordinately getting scrutinized, at one point saying, "I'm on that tape, same as you." "Not like me, you're not," she quietly responds, in a voice that barely registers above a whisper. Something that once served as an avatar of their affection and unbridled passion for one another becomes a major point of division in their marriage, especially as Tommy swerves wildly between reaping guffawed praise for his performance in the tape and drunkenly getting into bar fights at exactly the right moment to become another PR nightmare while Pam is on the promotion circuit for her latest movie Barb Wire. By the time the two are standing on opposing sides about how to control the tape's spread, it's obvious that this is the beginning of the end for them too.
Anyone hoping for a sense of justice served is in for a healthy helping of reality instead. After watching Rand narrowly escape any firm consequences time and time again, it becomes increasingly apparent that Pam & Tommy isn't interested in rewriting history — it really just wants to shine an unfaltering spotlight on true events, to the benefit of the series as a whole. These larger-than-life celebrities who wound up catapulted into notoriety for all the worst reasons were by no means perfect people, but how much did they actually deserve what happened to them? Surrounded by unsympathetic figures, the two who are afforded the most understanding in the whole chain of events are Pam and Tommy themselves — and the final product leans more on acute commentary than satisfying resolution, illustrating what the spectacle around this couple's private life damaged for and between them in the long run while the rest of the world eventually moved on to the next big story making headlines. It's a series that is both consigned to a very specific then (the scene in which Rand has to explain the concept of the internet to Uncle Miltie being one shining example) and distressingly apropos for the now we're in. What captivates the public's attention and dominates conversation today can easily become yesterday's news — maybe just as quickly as it takes all of us to press play on the next video.
Rating: A
The first three episodes of Pam & Tommy premiere February 2 on Hulu, with new episodes airing weekly each Wednesday until the finale.