‘The People v. O.J. Simpson’ Cast Power Rankings: ‘The Dream Team’

Playing yourself isn’t easy when everybody around you is a heightened version of themselves, so we’ll give Larry a pass on this one for not being quite as dynamic as his co-stars. The fact that we’re not entirely sure whether this was or wasn’t archived footage probably speaks in his favor, though.

Greenwood is a solid actor, and Garcetti doesn’t have anything big that the script asks him to do, so don’t take this ranking as a slam on him. He’s playing The Boss and he’s doing a good job acting as a sounding board for Marcia Clark.

Lotta good side-eye out of Galvez as Kim talked about her godfather O.J. possibly being a killer. But I still reject any version of Kim Kardashian that’s this animated and lively.

I like Evan Handler a lot. He’s a liiiittle cartoony here as Alan Dershowitz, as he and John Travolta’s Robert Shapiro establish a kind of bickering chemistry. He’s entertaining. He’s just maybe a bit more Evan Handler than Alan Dershowitz at this point.

Kind of a downbeat episode for Cuba Gooding, though O.J. did get to deliver that “I’m not black, I’m O.J.” line which speaks volumes. The best quality of Gooding’s performance continues to be that we can’t really tell whether the show — or the actor — thinks O.J. did it or not.

Morrow’s such an odd actor who really burrows into the psyches of his characters, which can often come across overly effortful when he’s not playing a character who calls for that much introspection. He’s toe-ing that line again as Barry Scheck, who is, at the end of the day, merely the Dream Team’s DNA guy. But I like the way Morrow’s Scheck drifts into and out of his genetic-science nerdery.

It’s gotta be an interesting task as an actor to play the guy who wrote the book upon which much of this show is based — and who’s a consulting producer, no less — but Conner puts just enough emphasis on Toobin’s incredulity at Shapiro laying out the beginnings of his race-card strategy.

I’m honestly impressed that Selma Blair isn’t putting more judgment into her performance of Kris Jenner. It’d certainly be easy to make her a figure of derision given the place she currently holds in the media landscape. In this episode in particular, Blair plays Jenner straight-up as a woman whose friend was murdered and who can’t believe her ex-husband is defending the killer.

Just all sorts of fantastic side-eye from Clemenson, who’s playing the least-boldface name in this rogue’s gallery we call a cast. He’s a fantastic foil for Sarah Paulson’s Marcia Clark and I look forward to him every week.

Nothing quite so fun as the fast-food run of previous episodes, but my gosh was Magnussen perfect casting as Kato. He really nails that oblivious/opportunistic line that Kato walks. Also it would probably be unethical to include how good he looks with his shirt off as a credit to his performance. And yet …

Schwimmer was tasked with the episode’s most curious scene, an episode-opening lecture to the Kardashian children (both the ones onscreen and the real-life ones currently presiding over our culture) about the emptiness of fame. All while Michael Bolton plays at a too-loud volume in the background. Yet somehow Schwimmer manages to sell that “fame means nothing without a virtuous heart” bit of hokum in a way that makes Kardashian incredibly endearing. He really is the moral center of this show.

Thus far, we’ve seen a lot of Johnnie Cochran’s frustration. Frustration at not being in the spotlight; frustration with the LAPD; frustration with his secretary for not properly screening crank calls. I’m very interested to see what Vance brings to the table now that Cochran has joined the Dream Team.

Similarly to Cochran, we’ve seen a lot of Marcia Clark being confident in how airtight a case they have against O.J. By the end of the episode, that confidence has begun to crack, in the face of aggressive press coverage, blabby witnesses, and the fact that Chris Darden is starting to open her eyes about the racial implications of the case. Paulson sells those dawning realizations well, all while puffing away on those period-specific cigarettes.

Of all the casting announcements for this show, I was probably most dubious about Nathan Lane as F. Lee Bailey. Bailey always came across as a blustery old grump who ended up on O.J.’s defense team after taking a wrong turn on his way home from early-bird dinner. Lane’s version of Bailey definitely isn’t that, but it’s more weathered than I gave Lane credit for, and his “…Harvard” shading of Dershowitz was fantastic.

Travolta continues to deliver some kind of rococo art project as Bob Shapiro, contorting his forehead and eyebrows and mouth to re-imagine Shapiro as a cross between Mario Cuomo and Edna Turnblad. It’s never anything short of fascinating. And so satisfyingly inscrutable! Does Shapiro think O.J. is guilty? Innocent? Does HE even know what he thinks?

More and more, I’m starting to think that Christopher Darden — who in real life was maligned as bumbling and ineffectual — might just end up being the key to unlocking this whole series. I’m just loving what Sterling K. Brown is bringing to this role, all the gravitas and conflict swirling around in him. I like how genuinely unassuming he is, but how he’s also thrilled to be getting an opportunity on the big stage. And the flirty chemistry he and Paulson are putting out there makes every one of their scenes a treat.