We Were Too Hard on Winning Time

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A while back, HBO aired the Adam McKay-produced series, “Winning Time,” which depicted the Showtime Lakers in an unflattering light, drawing criticism from some legendary figures of that era. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, one of the former players, labeled it as “deliberately dishonest” and “dull,” while the then general manager Jerry West, who passed away last year, threatened a lawsuit. Jeanie Buss, current owner and president of the Los Angeles Lakers, initially expressed disapproval but later gave her approval after appearing on the show’s official podcast.

The counterattack by Buss, as portrayed in the new Netflix series titled “Running Point,” presents Kate Hudson’s character Isla Gordon, an heiress who inherits her family’s pro-basketball team, a fictionalized version of the Lakers known in the show as the Los Angeles Waves. Interestingly, Buss is one of the executive producers for this series, with Isla serving as a clear stand-in for herself, and the promotional artwork mimicking the cover of Buss’s memoir, “Laker Girl.” This Netflix series seems to be part of a broader wave of projects linked to the Lakers sphere, including titles like “They Call Me Magic” and “Legacy: The True Story of the LA Lakers,” which can be seen as a reaction to “Winning Time.” These projects often come across as marketing content disguised as glossy sports documentaries (similar to Netflix’s “Beckham” and Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney’s football series, “Welcome to Wrexham”). In contrast, “Running Point” appears to be hagiographic in nature, attempting to masquerade as an ordinary streaming series.

In a world dominated by men in professional sports, Isla takes on the challenge as an underdog, following her brother Cameron’s resignation for rehab. She navigates through the prejudice and doubt, even from her brothers Sandy and Ness who seek to remove her immediately. As she manages a sports franchise, she faces numerous challenges such as difficult players, lost sponsors, new broadcast agreements. Simultaneously, she juggles her personal life, which is equally complex: Engaged to a charming pediatrician, yet drawn to the team’s head coach.

In a male-dominated sports industry, Isla steps into the spotlight as an underdog when her brother Cameron (Justin Theroux with a commendable performance) resigns for rehab. She overcomes the sexism-laced doubts of others, including her brothers Sandy and Ness who aim to oust her, while dealing with a constant stream of crises that come with managing a sports team: stubborn players, departing sponsors, new contracts. Meanwhile, she must maintain a delicate balance between her professional life and personal relationships, which are just as complicated: She’s engaged to a compassionate pediatrician (Max Greenfield, gracefully aging), but also finds herself attracted to the team’s coach (Jay Ellis).

The main concept of this series might remind viewers of a bubbly comedy from the 2000s, which is likely why Kate Hudson was cast, given her successful run in romantic comedies like “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” and “Bride Wars”. After her entertaining performance in “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery”, it’s nice to see Hudson back in a leading comedic role. However, the execution is so shallow that it feels like a self-parody, with Hudson struggling under the weight of poorly written expository dialogue. From the very first scene, she is saddled with exposition that no actor could salvage: “I don’t know, I dropped out of college.” The character’s writing doesn’t improve as the season progresses, making Isla seem like a relic from the early 2010s Girlboss era. She rails against traditional corporate structures, stating, “Screw this old-school corporate bullshit,” and expressing her desire for modern, incomprehensible ventures such as bitcoin. Later, she employs the language of corporate feminism when trying to secure funding from Sephora’s female executive, arguing, “I hate to disagree with a badass CMO from whom I’m asking millions of dollars, but you’re wrong,” before presenting sales projections to demonstrate that women are just as interested in basketball.

In simpler terms, the series “Running Point” only loosely connects with its basketball theme, filling it with generic characters that seem like they were copied from “Ted Lasso.” For instance, Marcus (played by Toby Sandeman) lacks any depth or character development. Dyson (Uche Agada), the unsigned rookie, is portrayed as little more than a character struggling with his circumstances. However, when the show attempts to delve deeper into a secondary character, it often feels misguided, like Chet Hanks’s Travis Bugg, a white player who is presented as an obnoxious, unintelligent individual who also raps. The script later tries to humanize him in a heartwarming comedy, which seems out of place and undesired.

The humor in Running Point has a universally recognizable tone, as if you asked an AI model like ChatGPT to generate a TV show in the style of Mindy Kaling, who co-produces and shares showrunning duties with her collaborators Ike Barinholtz and David Stassen from The Mindy Project. Initially, Elaine Ko, known for shows like Only Murders in the Building and Modern Family, was attached to the project. Kaling’s unique touch is evident in the show’s frequent pop-culture references (“When I made my fifth billion, a man told me it’s not about how much money you have, it’s about who you help — it was Bono”) and jokes that seem tied to ethnicity, which are so numerous they sometimes feel like repetitive mannerisms. It can be challenging at times to focus on the dialogue without wanting to look up at the ceiling instead.

A significant aspect of this series revolves around its fundamental theme, which carries an unquestioned element of one-percent elitism that isn’t typically found in broad comedies. While I don’t anticipate political awareness from such shows, Running Point becomes uncomfortable whenever it delves into matters beyond its wealthy protagonist. For instance, Jackie Moreno (Fabrizio Guido), a worker at the Waves’ arena, learns early on that he is half-brother to the main Gordon siblings (their father was promiscuous). This revelation could have sparked some intrigue, perhaps even positioning Jackie as a thought-provoking adversary to Isla & Co. However, Running Point doesn’t explore such nuances. Instead, it swiftly reduces his influence by portraying Jackie as a simple-minded character who, in the end, yearns for nothing more than family and, once he obtains that, for romantic relationships. The series then presents him as a subordinate to his wealthy half-siblings throughout the season, making this choice even more distasteful due to how the script employs his working-class background as a source of jokes at his expense. Essentially, Jackie isn’t just a pet to the Gordons; he’s a prop.

During the controversy surrounding “Winning Time”, criticism from the Lakers’ circle often centered around questions of its authenticity. Specifically, the late Jerry West expressed displeasure with the series’ portrayal of him as an uncontrolled, intoxicated individual, labeling it as “fiction masquerading as fact”. HBO defended itself against West’s objections by stating that the series was based on extensive research and reliable sources, and that it wasn’t marketed as a documentary in the first place. The key point here is that Winning Time is a creative work of interpretation, produced by creators not under the influence of the Lakers, who were interested in exploring themes from the 80s, professional sports, and race in America. It was a flawed show, with mixed reviews on its flashy visual style and self-indulgent aspects. However, Winning Time was a product of people intrigued by this world but not bound by it. In contrast, Running Point is merely an attempt at managing the brand.

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2025-02-27 23:56