Since Peacock’s frantic new series Paul T. Goldman debuted last week, it has been hailed as the first genuine heir program to Nathan Fielder’s reality-bending HBO series The Rehearsal and feted by alternative comedy enthusiasts. Paul T. Goldman blurs the barriers between reality and simulation, much like The Rehearsal, for both comic and dramatic impact. The Rehearsal’s examination of consent-related problems justifiably infuriated some spectators and commentators. Did Fielder’s subjects realize that people may laugh at their suffering in the future? More importantly, did Fielder’s kid actors who played “Adam” in his ongoing parenting “rehearsal” know what was genuine and what was staged?
Despite all the criticism The Rehearsal received, Paul T. Goldman had me feeling much more uneasy. I was upset by the subject itself as filmmaker Jason Woliner’s ten-year endeavor started to fall apart. When Goldman is initially introduced to us, he strikes us as a quirky babe in the woods. However, as the series goes on, Paul T. Goldman’s moral compass begins to falter as well. We are left with Goldman’s twisted worldview, which is not just peculiar but also filled with rage.
The narrative of Paul Finkelman, an insurance quoter whose true identity is Paul T. Goldman, is followed. Finkelman obtained exclusive custody of his young son Johnny after divorcing his first wife, Galina, whom he met in Moscow through a mail-order Russian bride hoax. But soon he saw that he needed a wife for company and a mother for Johnny. The Florida man tried online dating before settling on “Audrey,” a single mother who wanted only a “part-time” union. She would only be available for the second half of the week, but she soon started demanding cash and joint ownership of Finkelman’s large possessions. Finkelman filed for divorce after realizing he was depositing checks into a fictitious account she had formed. But not before employing private detectives, breaking into her email, finding an affair, and — in Finkelman’s opinion — unearthing a major international sex trafficking organization.
Image: Peacock
Even though Finkelman won the divorce, he still believed that “Audrey” and her lover Royce Rocco had gotten away with something. As a result, Finkelman wrote the loosely autobiographical novel Duplicity under the pen name and alter ego of Paul T. Goldman. Then, he used Twitter to contact filmmakers about adapting his amazing “real story.” Jason Woliner, the director of Nathan For You and Borat: The Next Chapter, opted to go along.
Woliner agreed to adapt Duplicity according to “Paul T. Goldman’s” wishes, using his own script and featuring him in the lead role, but he also intended to make a documentary about the endeavor. Woliner reveals the gaps in Goldman’s personal tale through confessionals and documentary film. Not only does the individual draw irrational conclusions, but he also lacks compassion for others. At first glance, this seems like someone who is unable to take responsibility for failed relationships. However, as Paul T. Goldman continues, it becomes apparent that the author’s subject has a bleak and terrible perception of the world that has mistreated him, and Woliner is unable to stop Paul from revealing his sadistic dreams.
Paul T. Goldman is probably more difficult for me to see than The Rehearsal because of my perspective. One project purposefully creates a funhouse mirror representation of reality in order to mislead us. The other compels us to view the world through the incredibly irate subject’s eyes. The Rehearsal only has Nathan Fielder as its ringleader, while Paul T. Goldman is governed by a struggle between its subject and its director.
Nathan Fielder, the creator of The Rehearsal, has always used mischievous humor. Although he enjoys defying social conventions, he nevertheless has a moral code. That is never more apparent than in his ongoing fight against anti-Semitism. In addition to founding the sportswear company Nathan For You, which is dedicated to Holocaust education, he also battles the anti-Semitism of his subjects throughout The Rehearsal. Fielder has also always known what the joke is, and he doesn’t mind being the punchline. He is a willing subject in his research. Another piece of the puzzle is his infamous shyness. Fielder wants us to think critically about everything, even his own motivations.
On the other side, Paul T. Goldman paints a picture of a man whose insecurity has developed into a vicious strain of vanity. Paul repeatedly states to Woliner’s cameras that he doesn’t want the viewers to feel sympathy for anyone other than himself because it is crucial that he has perfected the shift from “wimp to warrior.” Finkelman explains that his alter ego can’t find emotional release since doing so would make him, in his father’s words, a “sissy,” when it’s time to film a hypothetical final encounter between Paul and Audrey in prison. However, Audrey’s fictitious demise in a violent explosion highlights how desperately Paul needs emotional support in real life. Paul can certainly accept that he was deceived. He must, however, recast Audrey as more than just a typical cheater in order to be able to live with himself. His life is severely dominated by this passion.
When I watch The Rehearsal, I realize that Nathan Fielder is deliberately challenging our preconceptions about how social connections should function. I can envision a painter who makes himself the topic of the painting. I’m not sure Paul T. Goldman is aware of just how mad he is when it comes to Paul T. Goldman. However, Paul is blissfully unaware of how much of his worldview is a falsehood. Jason Woliner, like Fielder, is obviously aware of the wider questions he’s raising with the essay. And a cruel, repulsive, and vengeful lie at that.
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