The latest music biopic to hit the small screen is Showtime’s George & Tammy – a tale unmatched in all of the elements that make the best music documentaries and biopics great; a soul-mate level love affair, substance abuse that would make Keith Richards take pause, emotional dysfunction, and the creation of incredible music in the midst of it all. The story of the tumultuous relationship between George Jones and Tammy Wynette has each of these in spades, and it’s delivered on a platter that provides little beyond the music itself to actually empathize with, but what’s there reels you in and keeps you inexplicably sympathetic and hooked until the end of the final episode.

Biopics don’t work unless they’re properly cast, and it took me a few minutes to latch onto seasoned actor Michael Shannon (The Shape of Water, Boardwalk Empire) as George Jones, but he oddly took on more and more of Jones’ mannerisms, voice, and especially look, as the series progressed. Maybe it was just viewer-acclimation, but after a couple episodes you’re convinced, and by the end you forget it’s a performance altogether. Jessica Chastain, with an impressive resume of her own, owns the roll of Tammy Wynette from the get-go, from the shy and unsure newcomer to the award winning but exhausted, drug-addicted, emotionally-spent, five-time-married country music legend. Both actors hit home runs in these roles.

There’s a wide array of supporting actors that bring additional legitimacy to the story, but a couple standouts are Walton Goggins and Steve Zahn. The brilliant Goggins (Django Unchained, Justified) plays Jones’ bandmate and best friend Earl “Peanutt” Montgomery with convincing conviction, but a less convincing wig. Zahn (Modern Family, Treme) is equally convincing as Wynette’s meek manager and final husband George Richey, her sole supporting rock at times; enabling, greedy, conniving sleazebag at others, with an equally annoying wig. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – it’s baffling how Hollywood can make a T-Rex eat an SUV or a spaceship the size of a planet look perfectly real, but stick a bad wig on a dude, shout “Action!” and we’re basically back to Wayne’s World.

Each of the lead and primary support characters are deeply flawed and emotionally undeveloped, but with the exception of Zahn’s Richey, we somehow root for them until the end. Late in the series, Tammy and George’s daughter Georgette takes a slightly bigger role as the damage left in the wake becomes increasingly evident in the next generation.

This series is DARK. The obvious comparison to 2005’s Walk the Line film is that, even with that story’s troubled protagonist, George and Tammy is a little less Hollywood. It’s short on feel-good moments and long on dysfunctional misery in many different forms. It moves fast, but there is some fun and lovin’ along the way. The chemistry between George and Tammy (and Shannon and Chastain) is undeniable, on stage, in the recording studio, and in the bedroom. The sense that two people can be absolutely meant to be together (in art and love) while at the same time completely destructive and detrimental to each other is the overall theme.

Jones’ alcoholism is the third lead character, for a time poking its ugly head in and out of the story before eventually (and literally) stealing the show. Credit to the producers for giving near equal time to Tammy’s debilitating addiction to pain killers, that, while not the front page story Jone’s boozing was, or as externally destructive, every bit as internally damaging. You see Jones doing his best to walk the line, be a good parent/step-parent, knowing that his next lapse will spike a deeper gap between he and Tammy, but still unable to put the bottle of cheap bourbon down. Wynette is able to keep it together a few years longer than Jones, but in the end, well, it all catches up. The battle facing the viewer is watching these two continually waste and destroy their love and talent, yet still wanting so bad for them to conquer and win such an elegant treasure that’s theirs for the taking. It’s like betting on a horse with a broken leg, and a scenario not all that unfamiliar to the countless families struggling with substance abuse in their ranks outside of the media spotlight every day.

Despite the overwhelmingly bleak story lines, the series works thanks to a strong script, based on daughter Georgette’s memoir (that I’ll be picking up soon), great acting, direction, and sets, and the convincing musical performances, actually performed by the lead actors. Chastain nails Tammy’s domestic and empathetic delivery while Shannon morphs into Jones – crooning in that signature aching, raspy, soaring voice that made him famous. When they sing together, just like the real George and Tammy, it’s gold. As always, there are some creative liberties taken for the sake of drama along the way. Musicians might scoff at some of the technical gaffes (no headphones when cutting vocals?), but by all accounts, most of this crazy stuff actually happened, and even the things that didn’t aren’t too far removed from what could have happened along the way. 

I wouldn’t say George and Tammy is an easy watch, but I would certainly say it’s important, worthwhile, and very well done on all accounts. It’s excellent film making, and these two were legends - this history is important. The quality of some of the content the streaming services are releasing these days rivals and often exceeds what’s showing over at the multi-plex. It’s hard to take it all in, but well worth it in cases like this. I highly recommend you check out George and Tammy.

Jeremy Porter is a Co-Editor in Chief at Pencil Storm. He lives near Detroit and fronts the rock and roll band Jeremy Porter And The Tucos. Follow them on Facebook to read his road blog about their adventures on the dive-bar circuit.
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