Much of R.J. Cutler’s Netflix documentary “Martha” is an unpleasant viewing experience. The press kit describes the film as a “candid” look at Martha Stewart, but it feels cold and distant, allowing its subject to remain in a self-designed cocoon. Any attempts to humanize her are either brushed away by Stewart or relegated to an offscreen voice-over by someone else.
In today’s climate, do you really want to sit through two hours of an extremely rich person complaining about how wrong they think they’ve been done? And whose complaints are negated by scenes of her abusing people and being mean? When given the opportunity to respond to specific incidents, Stewart suddenly goes silent or scowls at the camera. She shuts down, and so does the viewer’s sense of empathy.
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Still, no matter what you think of her, Stewart’s successes can’t be denied. Her story is the classic rags-to-riches tale, one that Horatio Alger might have written. My fellow Jersey City native created a massive media empire by catering to an unmet need. Her shows and magazines about cooking, throwing parties, and craft-making — “living” as she succinctly called it — were so popular they made her a billionaire, not to mention a trailblazer for other female entrepreneurs.
“Martha was the first influencer,” one of the film’s talking heads tells us. It’s true — she preceded Oprah in this role. Her magazines, shows, and line of items sold by Kmart all contributed to her empire. As numerous clips reveal, Stewart was everywhere. That is, until she ran afoul of the US Securities and Exchange Commission and received a prison sentence lasting 150 days.
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“Martha” feels a bit like it’s trying to catch us for recoiling at some of the events we see and statements we hear. Repeatedly, we’re told she’s a perfectionist who should be given carte blanche to lash out at underlings and anybody else in her orbit who can’t live up to her standards. Unfortunately, the world isn’t perfect. The rationale for these actions is also repeated to the point of madness: If she were a man, she would be lauded for her attitude. But because she’s a woman, she’s a you-know-what.
(Unlike this review, the film doesn’t censor that B-word. It’s repeated a lot.)
I’ve always found the male vs. female monster argument to be suspect. Note: I didn’t say it wasn’t accurate; aggressive, mean men get much more of a pass. But we’re talking about Stewart, who several times in this film is shown treating people poorly. That’s wrong no matter who’s doing it, yet as a culture we focus on the person in power rather than on the underling being squashed under their boot; that flaw is built into our DNA.
Also stitched into our cultural DNA is the desire to build people up only to knock them down later. In one of its best segments, “Martha” leans into the schadenfreude many people felt when Stewart was convicted in March 2004. The charges were one count of conspiracy, two counts of making false statements, and one count of obstruction of agency proceedings.
Personally, I think she got railroaded. But the court of public opinion has a hanging judge, and those who testified against Stewart were people telling horror stories about working for her. According to the documentary, many people felt she got what she deserved.
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The reason this segment works: Stewart momentarily drops her guard. Rather than have an offscreen narrator or some talking head describe her emotions, as the film does far too often, Stewart takes control of the documentary. She tears into her enemies. Her brutal comments about a late New York Post reporter and former US deputy attorney general James Comey are too juicy to print here, but I found myself cheering for her. “Throw that shade, Martha!” I yelled at my laptop screen. “Show us that petty!”
Despite all that befell her, Stewart remains relevant. Her longevity comes from her ability to reinvent herself (even if she hated one of her earlier reinventions, like her stint as a host for her talk show, “Martha”). The biggest missed opportunity in “Martha” is how little time it devotes to her current professional relationship with Snoop Dogg. The unlikely duo hosted a cooking show and became fast friends. Stewart’s partnership with everyone’s favorite weed-smoking rapper has brought out a fun, engaging, and surprisingly loose version of Stewart. These two deserve their own documentary.
In scenes with Snoop, and a clip of her cracking hilarious, raunchy jokes at Justin Bieber’s comedy roast, Stewart looks relieved to be free of the perfect persona she crafted as her brand for so many years. And to quote her famous catch phrase, it’s a good thing.
★★
MARTHA
Directed by R.J. Cutler. With Martha Stewart, Snoop Dogg. On Netflix. 115 minutes. R (profanity)
Odie Henderson is the Boston Globe's film critic.