By Jo Mikula, Co-Editor-in-Chief
I first got interested in the new Netflix docuseries[1] “Tiger King” thanks to Buzzfeed.[2] A friend sent me a link to a quiz: “If you Pass This Random Knowledge Quiz, You’re Abnormally Smart.” I followed it for old times’ sake.[3]
20 minutes and about as many different gif-filled webpages later, a suggested article on the side of the page caught my eye. A photo of three shirtless men, chests covered in tattoos, faces heavily pierced, reclining against a white background, and fixing the camera with three sultry stares. One of the men had a bleach-blonde mullet. In the middle of the picture was the satirical caption “I miss old-school Blink-182.” The accompanying headline promised “22 More hilarious Tweets About ‘Tiger King.’” I followed the link.
The article opened, “So ‘Tiger King’ dropped on Netflix. It’s honestly one of the messiest/most entertaining shows I’ve seen in a while.” What followed was a succession of images, text, and gifs that both befuddled me and piqued my interest. There was a leather bomber jacket and more piercings and tattoos. I decided to give it a try.
The full title of the show is, it turns out, “Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem, and Madness.” To describe the docuseries is somewhat difficult. Perhaps this is a good time to reveal that I have only watched three of the seven episodes, and I don’t intend to watch the remaining four. I have seen enough. That said, I will attempt a brief plot description here.
“Tiger King” opens with Joe Exotic, a gay, libertarian tiger-breeder. Exotic has pursued many paths and lived in many places over the course of his life, but the docuseries mainly focuses on his time as the owner and operator of the Greater Wynnewood Exotic Animal Park in Oklahoma. We see a number of employees at Exotic’s park, as well as two of Joe’s ex-husbands, John Finlay and Travis Maldonado.
Exotic leads the show to an equally colorful cast of supporting characters. One episode focuses on “Doc” Antle, an “American wildlife enthusiast, trainer, and businessperson” who frankly appears to be at the head of a cult.
Then there is Carole Baskin, an animal rights activist and founder of the non-profit Big Cat Rescue. Baskin and Exotic are apparently rivals; Baskin wants to shut down his Exotic Animal Park because she claims he is exploiting big cats. Exotic claims that she is in fact the one exploiting big cats. The show reveals that Exotic is currently in jail on charges of hiring someone to murder Baskin.
“Tiger King” does not ultimately take a stance on whether or not these charges are true. It does, however, luridly suggest that Baskin herself is no stranger to murder. After two episodes following the exotic animal industry in America, the show’s third episode turns into a quasi-dateline 50-minute extravaganza which heavily hints that she may have murdered her millionaire husband and fed his body to her tigers.
The“details” section of the show on Netflix’s website claims, “This show is: Provocative, Investigative.” A brief internet investigation on the part of a viewer will indicate that the “Investigative” claims of this show do not really hold up.
For the past four years, investigative reporter Robert Moor has been doing research and conducting interviews in an attempt to tell the Tiger King story. The result is a long-form article in New York Magazine and a podcast series entitled “Joe Exotic: Tiger King.” Moor, who is unaffiliated with the Netflix show, has been filling in important facts and correcting misrepresentations on Twitter since the Netflix docuseries was released. One funny and fairly benign fact is that Exotic does not actually write or sing the songs in his music videos featured on the show; they are written and performed by Washington State musicians Vince Johnson and Danny Clinton. As for more serious factual omissions, Moor tweeted a number of official documents and transcripts used in the Exotic court case.
Moor’s tweets go to show that “Tiger King” is not so interested in seriously investigating a true crime story as it is with creating a sensational piece of television. “Tiger King” is a spectacle. It’s reality TV run amuck. The more shocking the show, the happier the producers are.
The sensational tone of the show has, unsurprisingly, engendered a similar response in media and on the internet. Media outlets are calling it an “insane hit show.” One great irony of the docuseries is that Exotic, Antle, and Baskin are constantly accusing one another of exploiting big cats. Meanwhile, the show itself seems to be exploiting rural America and turning it into a spectacle. The Buzzfeed reporter who called the show “one of the messiest/most entertaining shows I’ve seen in a while” is picking up on this sensational tone. But it is worth noting that what “Tiger King” encourages us to experience as messy and entertaining is the lived realities of the people the show follows.
One aspect of the show that the internet has particularly loved is Exotic and his husbands. Quips akin to “Joe Exotic got TWO straight guys to marry him but I can’t get ONE straight guy to call me his girlfriend” abound on Twitter.
Viewers who tweet about the straight men on “Tiger King” are simply mimicking the same absolutist framework of sexuality that the show uses. People on “Tiger King” are either gay or straight, and gay is not a term that the show uses to indicate a wide array of orientations or attractions. You are a homosexual, or you are straight. Netflix classes “Tiger King” as an LGBTQ TV show, but I would respond that its depiction of queerness leaves much to be desired.
To get into the problem of straightness a little more, “Tiger King” insists that Exotic’s ex-husbands are straight in large part to show that Exotic manipulated them into relationships. The decision to repeatedly identify straightness as proof of the fact that they were coerced into relationships does a disservice to understandings of sexuality, addiction, economic opportunity, and abusive relationships.
First, we should note that Exotic met both of these husbands when they were only 19 years old. In both cases, he was at least 20 years their senior. Maldonado, it seems, was addicted to meth when he met Exotic. Exotic continued to supply Maldonado with meth and other drugs. He also provided Maldonado with a home, food, and a job.
Suffice it to say that Exotic saw young men in vulnerable positions and coerced them into relationships with him. I’m not convinced that sexuality is the primary issue here; the issue is sexual exploitation. And the issue is that these men were in such a vulnerable position in the first place that Exotic could sexually exploit them. The show spends far too much time asserting their supposed straightness, and not nearly enough time interrogating the sociopolitical problems that enable exploitative and abusive relationships to thrive.
Moor has weighed in on another issue of queer representation on the show. As part of his twitter thread, he pointed out that the employee whose arm was ripped off by a tiger was consistently misgendered throughout the Netflix docuseries. He is a trans man who goes by Saff, the name he chose after coming out as trans. And yet the show refers to him with feminine pronouns and puts the name “Saff” in quotes, as if marking it off as an eccentricity. And still, Netflix classifies this as an LGBTQ TV show. I am appalled. Gay things now sell, and “Tiger King” is profiting off this, while simultaneously failing to respect and accurately represent queer people.
Moor also responded to a wave of viewer comments about missing teeth in “Tiger King” with a link to an article on the socioeconomic realities of dental care in the US. Said Moor in the tweet, “A lot of people are talking—or worse joking—about the # of missing teeth in that documentary. I’d urge you to read this wonderful essay by @Sarah_Smarsh. It isn’t really about meth. It’s about poverty, and living in a nation that punishes the poor.”
As I wrote above, I will not be finishing “Tiger King.” The internet abounds with spoilers, and I learned after finishing the third episode that a later episode would feature Maldonado’s death and a particularly crude moment where Exotic discusses Maldonado’s balls at the funeral. Fearing the way the show would handle this death, I stopped watching.
A good decision, as I later found out that the episode includes security camera footage of an employee as he watches Maldonado accidentally shoot and kill himself in real time. “Tiger King” does not warn viewers about this moment; by the time you understand what is happening, it is too late. For its part, Netflix cautions that the show may not be suitable for ages 17 and under because of “language, smoking, and animal harm.” There is absolutely no warning that the show is about to air footage of a person shooting themselves off-screen. It is a chilling moment because it is so unexpected; the calm of the gift shop is suddenly shattered, something irrevocable has happened. It is a gratuitous display of a traumatic moment.
Although I clearly had a very visceral response to “Tiger King,” I do not regret watching as far as I did. The show is certainly provocative, and it got me thinking. “Tiger King” feels like reality TV and true crime gone too far. In a way, the show calls into question two genres that have become immensely popular in the past decade. What are the power dynamics at play when we watch different reality shows? In what way does the phenomenon of the reality TV show often reinforce the status quo? Does it harden stereotypes?
As for true-crime: what is behind the mass fascination with true crime stories? Are there ethical and unethical ways to report a crime story?
I want to clarify that I am not judging anyone who has watched and enjoyed “Tiger King”! I think the show raises good questions, and I can see some of the entertainment appeal. I will readily admit that I loved all the piercings and tattoos on the show, and some of the fashion choices were wonderful.
But, in the end, the show has a tone and an approach that I couldn’t truly enjoy. I couldn’t get over being troubled by the representation of class, economic realities, relationships, rural America, queerness, and violence on the show. Others might not be troubled by its approach to these issues. Perhaps I am being overly sensitive. All I know is that I am happier having turned away from “Tiger King.”
An alternative quarantine recommendation: “Feel Good” on Netflix, a show written by and starring Canadian comedian Mae Martin. This has absolutely nothing to do with “Tiger King” except that both shows were released in March of 2020 and both also fall under the Netflix classification of LGBTQ shows. “Feel Good” tells the somewhat fictionalized story of a comedian named Mae as she navigates the beginning of a new relationship and deals with her past addiction to narcotics. The show takes a nuanced and very real approach to sexuality, gender, relationships, and addiction. It is also incredibly funny, in a sharp and irreverent way. In the end, it made me feel good.
[1] How to describe this particular show? Netflix advertises it under True Crime, Docuseries, LGBTQ Documentaries, and LGBTQ TV Shows.
[2] I am happy to say that I largely broke a bad habit of mindlessly taking Buzzfeed quizzes about a year ago, but these are strange times.
[3] I am not, it turns out, abnormally smart. I also relearned that 4 is not a multiple of 8.
Image credit: Deadline
