Can these tiger-enthusiast rednecks inherit the mantle of American outlaws?
Netflix’s recent docuseries, Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem, and Madness, has captured the attention of a world held hostage by COVID-19. Joe Exotic, the gay, gun-toting, mullet-sporting, tiger-owning, Carole-Baskin-hating, redneck Okie has both charmed and infuriated audiences. With colourful supporting characters like Baskin and her husband Howard, Bhagavan ‘Doc’ Antle and his sex cult, and Joe Exotic’s partner-turned-usurper Jeff Lowe, the greatest appeal of Tiger King is its subjects.
Whether you think that Carole killed Don and fed him to the tigers, that Joe Exotic burnt down the recording studio, or that Jeff Lowe, Allen Glover, and James Garretson should be locked up for their part in the murder-for-hire, its undeniable that everyone who watched has their strong opinions. But why is it that, as a society, we can come together under such a global crisis only to become deeply invested in the lives of some eccentric, redneck crooks?
The answer, perhaps, lies in the appeal of the Outlaw. Joe Exotic and his peers’ style themselves almost as if they’re pioneers on a new frontier, desperadoes on the lam. In fact, the Tiger King himself actively occupies himself with this outlaw celebrity. His country music, outfit, and love of media attention all point to that classic American predilection to the outlaw.
As an example, the story of Jesse James is embedded within the American mythos. James, a notorious robber active in the years following the Civil War, ran a gang in the Midwest with his brother Frank that stole from coaches, trains, and banks. It’s James’ infamous death in 1882 that is most widely remembered today, when one of his gang members, Robert Ford, shot him in the back of the head while he was hanging a portrait.
James, however, was no ordinary outlaw. He commanded strong public sympathy; his escapades were dramatised into dime novels that inspired Ford to join the gang in the first place. Jesse James embodied a Robin Hood persona, despite never sharing his takings with the common folk. A folk song soon followed about the fallen outlaw and his death, an arrangement which Woody Guthrie lifted for his song ‘Jesus Christ’. This connotation alone between Christ and Jesse James signifies the level of reverence that the American mythos gives its antihero figures.
The correlation between James and Joe Exotic are prominent, correlations that the documentary plays on. Joe Exotic, like James, runs his own gang of rebellious misfits. Jeff Lowe mirrors Robert Ford, with both figures being well-liked by their respective partner. And, like Ford shooting James (*spoiler alert*), Jeff Lowe eventually betrays Joe Exotic to a federal investigation.
This parallel becomes most apparent in the final episode. After Saff, one of the keepers, talks about how there are no winners from the war between Joe and Carole, an instrumental comes in. The instrumental was a part of the score for the Andrew Dominik film, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, starring Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck as James and Ford respectively. The song titled ‘Moving On’ was composed by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, of the band Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. In the documentary’s final moments, it imparts an allegory through the music between Jesse James and Joe Exotic.
There are further parallels to outlaws; the story of arguably the most famous outlaw, Billy the Kid, can be found in that final episode. Just as Jeff works with the federal investigation to hand over Joe, Billy the Kid’s former gambling and drinking buddy, Pat Garrett, became sheriff of Lincoln County, New Mexico, pursuing and shooting Billy from the shadows after finding him hiding out with a friend in Fort Sumner.
John Wesley Hardin, another 19th century outlaw, also possessed that same propensity for publicity that Joe Exotic has. While in prison, Hardin authored his autobiography, where he painted himself as a ruthless killer and a born outlaw. Killing his first man at the tender age of 15, Hardin claims to have killed another 42 men, a claim that cannot be corroborated and was likely exaggerated.
Just as the larger-than-life story of the Tiger King has captured our attention, so did Hardin’s. Prison escapes, shoot-outs, encounters with other notorious outlaws, stories such as these found their way across the frontier and elevated Hardin into a celebrity. Hardin was eventually killed by a lawman in El Paso after the father of a man he pistol-whipped shot him in the back of the head while Hardin played dice in the saloon.
In a timeless trope, true to form, just like the outlaws that Joe Exotic frames himself alongside, actions catch up with you in the end. By using the public to elevate yourself to a mythic status, you invite retribution and challengers. And that mythic status that folk song and literature enabled has now been elevated further by film and social media. For all the admiration for Jesse James that the public had, and still has, for him, it’s overlooked today that James was a Confederate soldier. Not that it would matter much to people who attempt to emulate the outlaw.
Tiger King may have ended on Netflix, but the stories of its cast of characters continues. John Finley, one of Joe’s husbands, has gotten new teeth to the joy of everyone who watched. Doc Antle, the documentary says in its closing moments, was raided by the authorities. And Joe Exotic, from his prison cell, will likely continue to work with animal rights organisations to turn in his past associates.
As for Jeff Lowe, Robert Ford didn’t escape the outrage of the public either. Ford was shot in a saloon after spending the remainder of his days ostracised by the public for killing James. Now, with public attention focused on Joe, Jeff, Carole and all the rest, it’s likely that Joe will have company in those cells.
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