I was so close to petitioning our government to include an edict in that pandemic stimulus package to force Netflix to please, for once, create some original programming that isn’t on the spectrum between mediocre to appalling.
Our broken and bored populace beseeches you to perform your patriotic duty: entertain us without insulting us.
Then, out of nowhere, just when we needed it the most, with most of the American populace newly ordered to stay home, Netflix released Tiger King.
What first looked like its latest entry in its the long series of impoverished whites exploitation documentaries instead turned out not to be a mere seven-hour trifle, a way to pass the time between fistfights over toilet paper in the Walgreens aisle. No, it turned out to be great art. And like much of our great art, it reflects our world back to us, reveals our hidden realities and our shameful foibles. We are the Tiger King. The Tiger King is us. (Text and photo courtesy Guardian)
