Self Made: Inspired by the Life of Madam C.J. Walker

The series is a smart, genuine portrayal of a venerable figure. “Self Made” is equal parts an entertaining account of the first woman millionaire, and a sharp critique of the margins along which Black people endure in a long history of systemic racism and gender-based oppression.

Self Made: Inspired by the Life of Madam C.J. Walker is a highly watchable bit of what I call rock-and-roll history. It’s a subgenre that tries to bring the past alive with modern dialogue and a ripping soundtrack. ... Spencer delivers the goods.

It is decidedly an old-school, good-time miniseries dropped into a world that will measure it by upper-crusty limited series standards. It also confidently strides through such nagging issues as colorism, class discrimination, and sexism black people visited upon each other in post-slavery, pre-Gilded Age America, all while it caresses, thoughtfully, the complex social and personal issues wrapped up in the relationship between black dignity and our hair, and the impossible, ugly beauty standards erected as an obstacle to opportunity.

A solid and enlightening four-part limited series debuting Friday on Netflix. Octavia Spencer carries the series every step of the way in a magnificent performance.

Standout performances by Spencer, Ejogo and more make Self Made a pleasurable watch. It’s just too bad that the story of Madam C.J. Walker isn’t given time to slow down and breathe.

If it’s a project that’s once again more fascinating than across-the-board well-made, fascination is not nothing — certainly not when applied to a figure whose contributions deserve to be better-heralded.

Walker's life is, clearly, a story worth telling, and as basically a longish movie split into four chapters, it's a reasonably concise package. It just could have been made in a way that would have more fully branded this inspirational biography as a miniseries worth watching.

Self Made, despite its incredible cast and incredible source material, feels too trapped within the “greatest hits biopic film” template, content to rush through every plot point of Walker’s life without slowing and settling to figure out who Walker is.

Nicole Asher’s script does a solid job at squeezing the many details of Walker’s life into four entertaining episodes but the directors, including Harriet’s Kasi Lemmons, don’t always hit the mark. There are attempts to enliven the by-the-numbers biopic-plotting with stylish flourishes but they’re mostly always misses. ... It’s ultimately, thankfully, Spencer’s show.

The show explores how Black men have told Black women to wait their turn in line, and takes a big swing at one Black leader’s history. The mapping of these issues is so blatant, they can be seen coming a mile away, but they’re managed with such enthusiasm that it’s almost endearing.

Unfortunately, the inspiration inherent in Walker’s story is in short supply in the script. ... Spencer’s intelligent, restrained performance is faultless but a little dry — with the exception of one early scene in which the tyranny of light skin and straight hair bring Walker to tears, she doesn’t really grab us. Ejogo, on the other hand, is fully alive as the O.M.G. (original mean girl) Munroe.

A compelling if clunky drama about an important figure.

The eminently talented Spencer gives it the best she’s got, despite some truly cringeworthy dialogue. But once her business is established as a success near the end of Chapter 2, the plot devolves into a series of telenovela storylines.

As a piece of scholastic infotainment, the series has tons of merit. But as a piece of prestige television, it falls short.

Don’t expect much of a deep dive into the itinerant history of Walker’s business, which is highly abridged in the series, as are her philanthropic and social work. But what did end up on the screen is very awkward at best.