'Clipped' review: an intelligently written saga about Donald Sterling


I love a good sports story as much as the next TV critic, but when it comes to actual professional sports, my lack of interest is surpassed only by my ignorance. All I could have told you about the Clippers the day before yesterday is that they are a Los Angeles-based basketball team known for losing; I had missed the 2014 scandal at the center of “Clipped,” a new FX miniseries on Hulu based on the ESPN podcast “The Sterling Affairs,” and knew nothing about any of the players represented here, other than Elgin Baylor. , but that's basic. Cultural knowledge of Los Angeles.

I am now educated to the point of having listened to the podcast, a work of journalism by Ramona Shelburne, and watched the series, a work of recreation and a work of imagination by Gina Welch. When a recording of racist comments from Clippers owner Donald Sterling (Ed O'Neill) becomes public, it creates a media storm that he somehow missed, wreaking havoc on Sterling's home, the Clippers front office and the NBA.

Regardless of the setting, this is not a sports story in the usual sense, that the question of winning or losing is settled history, and the Clippers, to give Wikipedia credit, remain confident in their reputation as “arguably the least successful franchise in America.” from North”. Professional sports.” On the other hand, it has a lot to do with the business of basketball; the question of what or who the owner of a team actually owns, current issues of racial equality; and doing the right thing when there is nothing obvious about it. Right. There's certainly a lot of cunning involved in this story, off the court and off the arena, between larger-than-life characters who turn out to be better and worse competitors and good or bad losers and winners (Although there aren't that many winners).

Cleopatra Coleman plays V. Stiviano, Donald Sterling's lover, in “Clipped.”

(Kelsey McNeal/FX)

The series consists of two interconnected stories. One, focused on white people with money, involves Sterling, a volatile 80-year-old billionaire whose poor racial record, as the city's largest residential landlord, long predates the scandal; his wife and high school sweetheart, Shelly (Jacki Weaver), who has adapted to her husband's infidelities and business strategies for decades; and V. Stiviano (Cleopatra Coleman), Donald's current not-secret lover, five decades his junior, who calls herself “personal assistant,” “right arm,” and “dumb rabbit.” Despite the duplex, Ferraris, Bentleys and various expensive trinkets she has given him, she seems too delusional and naïve to be called a gold digger. She imagines that she will be the next Mrs. Sterling and, like many in the social media-driven business economy, that she will be famous for something, something other than what she is famous for.

V. has a habit of recording her conversations with Donald, do whatever she wants, in one of which she surprises him by berating her for posting a photo of her with Magic Johnson on Instagram and asking her not to “broadcast that they are hooking up.” with black people “or bring them to my games.” (She is black and Latina). When their relationship begins to break down, that tape finds its way to TMZ and then to the world at large, where all hell breaks loose.

As love triangle stories go, “Shelley and V.” It's not “Jules and Jim.” As nuanced as Welch and the actors try to create these larger-than-life dramatic and comedic characters (and the performances are as engaging, if not more so, than the story), the Sterlings and Stiviano, as seen here, are morally superficial people. (O'Neill's Bundy, who is not a million miles but many millions of dollars away from Donald, is more interesting and sympathetic.) Why one should care what happens to any of them is a question that viewers will have to answer for themselves; As studies in self-deceived disorientation, they are well plotted, but not worth worrying about.

A coach with his hands on his hips looking at the basketball court.

Laurence Fishburne also plays Doc Rivers, the head coach of the Clippers at the time of the Donald Sterling scandal.

(Kelsey McNeal)

The other story focuses on new head coach Doc Rivers (Laurence Fishburne), a Clipper 20 years earlier and the most sympathetic character in the series, who tries to guide the team to its first championship while managing his relationship with Sterling, for a side, mainly. through the obsequious team president, Andy Roeser (Kelly AuCoin), and the players, on the other. Unlike his bosses, who need to be constantly reminded, Doc understands that they are in a crisis.

While Sterling's story focuses on people who live in a bubble, this thread focuses on those who, like black men and public figures, can't afford it. (Yes, everyone has money). The drama is not in how the team will fare, but in what it will do in light of Sterling's tape. Socratic discussion is the mode here, both with Rivers, who works out his thoughts in a steam room with LeVar Burton (as himself), and among the players, with Chris Paul (J. Alphonse Nicholson) the pensive voice and DeAndre Jordan (Sheldon). Bailey) everyone excited. (Overall, they are a group whose harmonious spirit Ted Lasso would envy.) The political points are made clearly: we get a flashback to Rivers as a player at the time of the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, questioning his own status, but staying well short of becoming didactic.

Welch also brings in Baylor (Clifton Davis), the Clippers' general manager for 22 years who ended up suing Sterling, the club and the NBA for employment discrimination; In 1959, as a rookie star of the then-Minneapolis Lakers, he boycotted a game for accommodations in a segregated hotel, an incident that turns “Clipped” into documentary mode for a minute, complete with archival photographs of the real Baylor.

“Clipped” is smartly written and worth a watch for the performers, who also include Rich Sommer as Clippers PR man Seth Burton; a dryly funny Corbin Bernsen as Shelly's lawyer in her various negotiations with Donald; Yvonna Pearson as Deja, the devil on V.'s shoulder; and Harriet Sansom Harris as Justine, Shelly's designated best friend. I found it more amusing than convincing, but these events caused a scandal in their time, and there are always those who will want to see the actors bring to life things they remember reading in the newspaper.

I say “paper,” although internet memes and TV clips are the Greek chorus here. But we all have to support our team.

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