Angelyne

Just like the woman at its center, “Angelyne” seems to know more than we may feel inclined to give it credit for. The show has big things to say about womanhood and fame, but it couches them in this peculiar, hyperspecific, ever-engaging story. Like a hot pink laser beam shooting from the sky, both “Angelyne” and its subject are calculated for maximum, stylish impact.

“Back then, you could still disappear or reappear as someone else. You can’t really do that anymore,” Glaser says in one of the series’ more meta lines. But in its thorough, thoughtful depiction of how Angelyne collapsed the illusory boundary between secrecy and sincerity, the miniseries provides both the woman and the icon the freedom to do just that.

Thanks in large part to Rossum’s deeply sympathetic and almost protective performance, “Angelyne” turns Angelyne into the kind of star she always wanted to be.

If anything, Angelyne commits to the work of humanizing formerly maligned sex symbols beyond the surface level. If the largest sex organ is truly the brain, both Angelyne the series and Angelyne, the woman, know that.

What Angelyne lacks in precision it makes up for in spirit. There's an endearing level of protectiveness in Rossum's performance, and indeed the entire production. Angelyne is funny, but Angelyne is never the butt of the joke. Nor is her perpetual acolyte Krause, who Linklater brings to life with a striking blend of humor and pathos.

It’s a sincere tribute to the parthenogenesis of a pinup. Angelyne, it argues, became her own work of Pop Art — even if, to paraphrase the Sex Pistols’ “E.M.I.,” she only did it ‘cos of fame.

Angelyne plays with reality in a way that’s fun and somehow never frustrating. We don’t quite ever know which bit is the truth, but Angelyne has no intention of truth. It just wants to be as surreal and enigmatic as its mysterious subject was in real life.

“Angelyne”’s true strength lies in its nuanced embrace of the lie, reveling in the hot pink happiness she gives herself and her fans for merely existing while acknowledging the hurt and confusion she inflicts on those in her wake.

If you’re a fan of flashy hilarity than “Angelyne” is for you. The series captures a camp quality and Rossum is utterly captivating. She finds the nuance in a character whose an icon, even if it’s just in her own mind.

When it’s not overly concerned with selling Angelyne as The Original #Influencer, the show is freer to simply show us what it’s like to be Angelyne, in all her perfectly tacky glory.

The storytelling of Angelyne leaves a lot to be desired, but Rossum’s performance cuts through the script gymnastics, making us curious about what parts of Angelyne’s life the series will explore.

While it is on balance a celebration (otherwise, what would be the point?), there is a respectable attempt to express the essential, if not always the actual, truth of the matter. The effect is a little schizoid, however, and it’s hard to know how to take the series at first, what’s meant to be funny ha-ha and what’s meant to be funny strange.

"Angelyne" approximates its subject in the wrong ways: It's big, attention-getting and has all the depth of a billboard. Emmy Rossum stars and produced this limited series, which doesn't profess to be truth but rather a facsimile of it. In a year that's already given the world the superior "Pam & Tommy," consider this evidence that impressive makeup alone isn't enough.