During his nearly 50 years in show business, Bill Cosby became one of America's most recognizable black celebrities: his career was a model of excellence for millions of Americans, until the painful testimonies of dozens of women uncovered the sinister grimace behind the smile of the so-called America's dad.
In the sixties, Cosby is collecting accolades for his comedy, breaking barriers for Black stunt performers and finding his own ways of participating in the nation's sexual liberation and civil rights movement. All the while, he allegedly begins exploiting his power.
It's the seventies and Bill Cosby's on a circuitous path to becoming an on-screen educator and moral authority —a man we thought we could trust. Whether he's telling kids to say no to drugs or allegedly offering pills to young women, Cosby proves himself relentless, and his ambition propels him to new levels of acclaim with 1983 stand-up special Himself.
Cosby strikes gold with The Cosby Show, a genre-defining family sitcom and monument to Black excellence. Throughout the eighties and nineties, he parlays the affection for his characters into even more affection for him and leverages his growing power inside the entertainment industry to allegedly commit and conceal a multitude of sins. As the beloved sitcom comes to an end, Cosby's persona warps from America's Dad into America's Angry Grandpa.
After spending the early aughts perched on the high horse of respectability politics, Cosby falls down to Earth. Hannibal Buress tells a joke in Philadelphia, a chorus of survivors speak out, and a culture is ready to listen. There are two trials, a conviction, incarceration, appeal, and, in 2021, an overturned verdict. Now there is a debate to be had about what to do with the art that people loved and the larger systemic problems that the Cosby story lays bare.
