As a sports enthusiast and someone who has followed the tragic story of Aaron Hernandez, I must admit that “American Sports Story” left me with mixed feelings. On one hand, the series does an excellent job of portraying the complexities of its characters, with Rivera delivering a powerful performance as Hernandez. The cast is indeed impressive, and it’s heart-wrenching to see the struggles of those close to Aaron, particularly his fiancée Shayanna and his brother DJ.
In the eighth episode of FX’s American Sports Story, Aaron Hernandez (Josh Rivera), as he aims a gun at Odin Lloyd (J. Alex Brinson), we are given a clear picture of how he arrived at this point. An act that appeared to be senseless and unexpected when Hernandez was first arrested for murdering his friend in 2013, now feels like the tragic climax of a series of unfortunate events and poor decisions, meticulously depicted over seven episodes. Although it doesn’t make it any less horrifying or unjustifiable, it does provide a better understanding of why this happened.
Although the reason behind revisiting this entire scenario is still uncertain, the Ryan Murphy-produced series, American Sports Story: Aaron Hernandez, intended as the inaugural season of a serial anthology similar to American Crime Story or American Horror Story, boasts strong casting and meticulous research. It also steers clear of exploiting the already sensational nature of this case. However, without offering a unique perspective or novel ideas about the narrative, the show seems to merely rehash an infamous tragedy, leaving viewers with the feeling that they’re observing a repetition of a past catastrophe.
Interestingly enough, one potential issue could stem from the fact that the original content is exceptionally well-crafted. The series creator Stuart Zicherman has based his work on the 2018 podcast “Gladiator: Aaron Hernandez and Football Inc.” which did an impressive job of presenting facts and background related to Aaron Hernandez’s case. If you are already acquainted with this podcast, the accompanying six-part Boston Globe feature, or even the unrelated 2020 Netflix documentary “The Killer Inside: The Mind of Aaron Hernandez,” you might not find much new information in the dramatized version of the story. In contrast, if you are not familiar with these resources, investigating them first could offer a more efficient way to absorb similar details within a shorter timeframe than the 10 episodes, each about 44 minutes long.
However, for those who’ve opted for this perspective, Zicherman meticulously presents all the essential facts. Here we find a troubled teen (Aaron) with a father (Vincent Laresca), who was affectionate one moment and brutally dominant the next. The story also includes the sorrow Aaron felt upon losing his father at age 16. Additionally, Aaron’s internal battle with his homosexuality is highlighted, set against an environment that was so aggressively masculine it could be dangerous even to admire a skyline too longingly, potentially resulting in being called the f-slur. Moreover, we see Aaron getting involved with the criminal underbelly of his Connecticut hometown, and his escalating addiction, from marijuana to painkillers to PCP (angel dust).
Of course, there’s also the sport of football. The narrative in American Sports Story is particularly insightful when it delves into how football impacted Aaron, both positively and negatively (mostly negative). Various scenes depict Aaron looking dazed and confused following on-field collisions, hinting at the extensive brain trauma that would later be discovered after his suicide at age 27. Off the field, athletic institutions, such as college football and the NFL, nurture and distort him simultaneously. These institutions appear to care little about his wellbeing or the harm he might cause, as long as his exceptional athletic skills continue to generate income for them.
Often, it’s evident that Aaron escapes any repercussions for his hasty and aggressive actions. However, this apathy cuts both ways. One of the most powerful scenes from the season is a prolonged queue of men, predominantly Black and brown, waiting to be weighed at the NFL scouting combine. Despite each individual being there due to exceptional skills — and with many, like Aaron, set to become standout figures — the mechanical process treats them all as replaceable assets in that instant.
The narrative in “American Sports Story” is filled with gripping, real-life events; Hernandez’s personal tale being a prime example. The plot unfolds at an intelligent speed – fast enough to maintain our engagement, but slow enough for those like me, who are not sports enthusiasts, to easily follow the sequence of events as one domino falls after another. The actors deliver compelling performances, skillfully portraying characters that could have been stereotypes, instead revealing their complexities.
As a gamer, I’ve got to admit, Rivera truly shines in his debut as a leading character. His raw, authentic portrayal of Aaron perfectly encapsulates both his terrifying instability and his endearing charm. Yet, it’s that infectious, unrestrainable grin that steals the show. Initially, it paints Aaron with an aura of sweetness and innocence, contrasting starkly with the harsh man he’s expected to be by his father, his job, and society. Later, as the divide between his inner struggles and public persona widens, it’s that grin – less frequent but still genuine at times – that serves as a reminder: beneath the fierce rage lies not a monster, nor a victim, nor an icon, but a person.
The cast around him is stuffed with familiar-but-not-too-familiar faces like recent Tony nominee Lindsay Mendez (as Aaron’s loyal-to-a-fault cousin), Tammy Blanchard (as Aaron’s unreliable mother), and Norbert Leo Butz (as famous, or perhaps infamous, New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick). Jaylen Barron is so heartbreaking as Aaron’s distressed fiancée Shayanna that I briefly wished for a version of this saga told entirely from her perspective. Likewise Ean Castellanos, who as Aaron’s big brother DJ fills every minute of his screen time with a complicated mixture of tenderness, protectiveness and resentment.
As a devoted viewer of true-crime reenactments, I can’t help but wonder about the purpose behind such extensive work and skillful storytelling – what exactly is American Sports Story contributing to the discourse by repeatedly delving into these grim particulars?
The series doesn’t delve deeply into a renewed understanding for the victims, as Brinson leaves a compassionate impression but only appears in one episode and quickly departs. Similarly, the other supposed victims of Aaron (the two men he is accused of shooting in 2012) receive minimal attention. Moreover, the series doesn’t aim to provide a novel perspective on the factors that molded this narrative. It is commendable for the series to avoid attributing Aaron’s actions solely to external factors. However, a more focused exploration of football culture or the pervasive toxic masculinity in his environment could have given Aaron’s story a weightier impact, extending beyond just the specific tragic events depicted.
Maybe it’s offering a touch of empathy towards the character who isn’t entirely evil but has done wrong – Aaron. However, considering the feelings people already harbor towards him, this film might stir up more complex emotions, and those less inclined to sympathize may find the treatment here even more grating. A ten-year gap seems insufficient for us to reevaluate our perspective on Aaron or the societal context surrounding him.
As a gamer, I’ve come to realize that American Sports Story might not be as far removed from the sports industry it seeks to criticize as we’d like to believe. It transforms the raw, human struggles into mere entertainment, no matter how hard it tries to add a touch of empathy to its sensational appeal. In essence, it mirrors the industry it critiques in many ways.
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2024-09-17 16:25