← Back to Reviews
in
This film is part of ESPN's "30 for 30" series, wherein the network celebrated its 30-year anniversary by commissioning 30 sports documentaries by 30 different filmmakers, each with autonomous control over the subject they'd been given.
June 17, 1994 is, as the title indicates, about a single day. Apart from being a Friday, it was a day in which a number of diverse stories in the world of sports came together, each provoking wildly different emotions, and often bleeding into each other. On that day, the following things happened:
Clearly, this was no ordinary day. And this is no ordinary documentary. Director Brett Morgen has completely abandoned the jabbering experts and askew floating pictures that almost entirely populate the genre. The entire film consists of footage from that Friday, save for a few clips from the days leading up to it, to set the stage.
Oh course, the tropes of talking heads and slowly animated photographs are ubiquitous for a reason: they work. Abandoning them is a risky conceit, but in this case, a brilliant one. Documentaries that employ expert commentary are inevitably tainted by the prejudice of hindsight, and Morgen wants us to know how these things felt as they were happening. We're not simply learning new things, we're experiencing them. Apart from the intentionally distorted, VHS-quality title cards that inform us of the time as the day progresses, it's as if we're channel surfing in the past.
Morgen shows tremendous restraint and respect for his audience by letting them provide their own wry observations. But as the film goes on, his own perspective gradually comes into view. We're shown unaired footage of Bob Costas quibbling with the NBC news department about how to segue from the Simpson chase to the comparatively frivolous basketball game they have to cover. We hear a baseball announcer express his disgust for Simpson's knee jerk defenders between innings. Everyone has an opinion, but few seem confident about how (or whether) to express it.
The Simpson chase, Morgen argues, was the birth of mainstream reality television and the fame-obsessed culture which keeps it viable. Some of the footage is almost eerie. Witness shots of random pedestrians running by cameras to get a glimpse of Simpson's car. They're not merely excited; they're smiling. Smiling at the prospect of getting a glimpse of, at worst a murderer, and at best a suicidal murder suspect. They'd look more at home at the Rangers' championship parade than observing a desperate man fleeing for his life.
The surrealism reaches a fever pitch when Simpson's attorney and friend, the late Robert Kardashian, reads what was at the time assumed to be Simpson's suicide note. Kardashian is the father of Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe Kardashian, all among today's most famous reality television stars.
The film's trump card is the syncing of O.J.'s 911 call with footage of the Bronco. Released a few years after they were recorded to surprisingly little fanfare, the tapes contain Simpson's claims that he has a gun to his head, and the operator's attempts to get him to throw the weapon away. One gets the distinct impression that Simpson's threat is nothing but an act, but what does it matter? Like reality television, the audience willingly suspends its disbelief, just so long as the performers never admit that they're performing.
Championships won and battled for, legendary careers coming to an emotional end, and the world's strongest nation hosting the largest prize of the world's most popular sport. None of this is a match for the powerful synthesis of celebrity and scandal. In the end, the most interesting thing about June 17, 1994 is how clearly it shows us what we're really interested in.
June 17, 1994 is, as the title indicates, about a single day. Apart from being a Friday, it was a day in which a number of diverse stories in the world of sports came together, each provoking wildly different emotions, and often bleeding into each other. On that day, the following things happened:
- Arnold Palmer played his final round of golf at his final U.S. Open.
- The Knicks and Rockets played Game 5 of the 1994 NBA Finals.
- The New York Rangers held their victory parade after winning their first Stanley Cup in a record championship drought of 54 years.
- The FIFA World Cup, hosted in the United States for the first time in history, held its opening ceremonies in Chicago.
- O.J. Simpson fled the police, on live television, in a white Ford Bronco.
Clearly, this was no ordinary day. And this is no ordinary documentary. Director Brett Morgen has completely abandoned the jabbering experts and askew floating pictures that almost entirely populate the genre. The entire film consists of footage from that Friday, save for a few clips from the days leading up to it, to set the stage.
Oh course, the tropes of talking heads and slowly animated photographs are ubiquitous for a reason: they work. Abandoning them is a risky conceit, but in this case, a brilliant one. Documentaries that employ expert commentary are inevitably tainted by the prejudice of hindsight, and Morgen wants us to know how these things felt as they were happening. We're not simply learning new things, we're experiencing them. Apart from the intentionally distorted, VHS-quality title cards that inform us of the time as the day progresses, it's as if we're channel surfing in the past.
Morgen shows tremendous restraint and respect for his audience by letting them provide their own wry observations. But as the film goes on, his own perspective gradually comes into view. We're shown unaired footage of Bob Costas quibbling with the NBC news department about how to segue from the Simpson chase to the comparatively frivolous basketball game they have to cover. We hear a baseball announcer express his disgust for Simpson's knee jerk defenders between innings. Everyone has an opinion, but few seem confident about how (or whether) to express it.
The Simpson chase, Morgen argues, was the birth of mainstream reality television and the fame-obsessed culture which keeps it viable. Some of the footage is almost eerie. Witness shots of random pedestrians running by cameras to get a glimpse of Simpson's car. They're not merely excited; they're smiling. Smiling at the prospect of getting a glimpse of, at worst a murderer, and at best a suicidal murder suspect. They'd look more at home at the Rangers' championship parade than observing a desperate man fleeing for his life.
The surrealism reaches a fever pitch when Simpson's attorney and friend, the late Robert Kardashian, reads what was at the time assumed to be Simpson's suicide note. Kardashian is the father of Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe Kardashian, all among today's most famous reality television stars.
The film's trump card is the syncing of O.J.'s 911 call with footage of the Bronco. Released a few years after they were recorded to surprisingly little fanfare, the tapes contain Simpson's claims that he has a gun to his head, and the operator's attempts to get him to throw the weapon away. One gets the distinct impression that Simpson's threat is nothing but an act, but what does it matter? Like reality television, the audience willingly suspends its disbelief, just so long as the performers never admit that they're performing.
Championships won and battled for, legendary careers coming to an emotional end, and the world's strongest nation hosting the largest prize of the world's most popular sport. None of this is a match for the powerful synthesis of celebrity and scandal. In the end, the most interesting thing about June 17, 1994 is how clearly it shows us what we're really interested in.