3 out of 5

Created by: Gina Welch

I come in to Clipped as not only not a sports fan, but as someone both actively bored by sports, and also completely ignorant of the realities behind ‘The Sterling Affairs’ podcast that fueled this show, which concerns the actions of former Clippers owner Donald Sterling, and the Clippers (their players, their coach, their staff) under his management.

For those playing as much catch-up as me, the Clippers are an NBA team; Donald Sterling was their owner from the 80s up through 2014, when recordings of him surfaced making undeniably racist comments, eventually leading to his banning from the league and requiring him to sell the team to another owner. These are facts ‘Clipped’ smartly does not play as a reveal or leveraged in any kind of over-dramatic fashion beyond its inherent drama – we know that’s where things are going, and based on even a cursory glance of the history, there’s not much conflict to mine in terms of proposing some alternate take on that history – and with many of the people involved being fairly public figures, the show also doesn’t try to be a deep character study. Logically, then, that relegates the 6-episode series into a recounting of events, and its success comes down to how entertainingly it manages to do that. Seeing as how this bored-by-sports person made it through: pretty successfully. But, yeah, I’m not sure I can make a case for the show necessarily justifying its existence beyond that entertainment factor.

The cast is well chosen and quite effective; Laurence Fishburne as the team’s new coach, Doc Rivers – and also, essentially, the team’s advocate and therapist, starting in his role just as the ball on Sterling’s dismissal started rolling – is somewhat doing an impression, adding gruffness to his voice, but setting that aside, he absolutely inhabits the role, and is a highlight whenever he’s on screen – thankfully very often. Similarly, Ed O’Neil adds layers of befuddlement to his take on Sterling, but mixed in with that is this really well effected corrosive mixture of hatred and insecurity; you know this person, and maybe Sterling is a blown out example of it, but it’s another great portrayal – if painful to watch for that same reason. Cleopatra Coleman’s V. Stiviano – Sterling’s comparatively young assistant, who released the recordings and flits between dedication to her boss, clear stardom aspirations, faux social justice actions – helps to draw the attention-seeking line that connects those sometimes opposing behaviors, though, again, this is also partially just an impression. But hers is perhaps the more difficult role, trying to juggle a level of vacuousness with extreme social awareness; Rivers is hard not to cheer for, but O’Neil and Coleman do add dimension to what could otherwise be cartoon characters, with Jacki Weaver and Levar Burton bringing further weight to their roles, which add various forms of commentary to the story.

Stiviano’s representation, and the way creator Gina Welch has framed the series, suggests what made the story seem relevant for Hulu / FX to tell now: it’s hooked into social media in a way that feels very prescient for its 2024 release, showing how much things have changed in a relatively short period, and somewhat contemplating the mixed bag of always-on exposure and transparency the platforms allow. The show’s occasional glitzy additions of scrolling through posts / tweets as a visual feels a bit too modern, though, which does nudge Clipped into style-over-substance. Sat alongside some attempts at being a bit more subversive with its comedy, there’s a sense that the creators were searching for some hook beyond the story itself. But the attempts are just that: the show doesn’t add any unobvious insight to things, or material worthy of post-discussion. It entertains; it clues unknowing folk like me into What Happened. Its six episodes are absolutely sufficient for getting those jobs done.