In 2009, Paul Goldman self-published a book on Amazon called “Duplicity.” The 323-page volume outlines a one-man crusade against a failed marriage, filled with a blow-by-blow account and accusations of how a man named Paul Goldman came to be the target of a suburban housewife’s scandalous double life. After using his own life as the basis for the book, Paul pursued anyone who could help bring “Duplicity” to the screen.

A decade later, “Paul T. Goldman” is the appropriately convoluted result. It’s not quite the international blockbuster that Paul dreams out loud about at various points over the six-episode series. Instead, it’s a Peacock show from director Jason Woliner, mixing documentary and comedy that feels linked but not indebted to some of its peers that have tried that same combo. “Paul T. Goldman” goes a step further, casting Paul against an ensemble of actors to recreate his own life story, bit by sensational bit.

Onscreen text throughout the first episode explains that the idea for the show began as a tweet to Woliner, evolving to the point where Goldman’s long-fermenting “Duplicity” screenplay was used for all of this show’s scripted scenes. “Paul T. Goldman” zigzags between Paul’s straight-to-camera recollections and dramatic reenactments of that version of events. The glue holding this all together is the collection of candid moments when the director, cast, and crew all try to suss out how exactly they’re moving between those spaces.

That murky middle ground is where the show’s most compelling drama lies. Paul is a character in his own right, regaling anyone who will listen with this book-length saga of chance meetings, secret phone calls, and an ever-growing list of enemies. There are more than a few times when the show will piece together Paul’s story with identical bits and phrases he drops in on-camera interviews and off-camera small talk. Woliner is careful to show Goldman as someone eager to tell this story in a very specific form, only deviating in carefully chosen ways.

“Paul T. Goldman”

Tyler Golden/Peacock

So the story behind the story here is the gentle tug-of-war to decide who the true author of “Paul T. Goldman” becomes. At some points, the show is an idealized recreation of events, with Peacock merely the TV conduit. At others, Woliner zeroes in on specific moments or details to show what these slices of “Duplicity” might actually represent for the man in the spotlight. In ways he realizes and others he definitely does not, Paul becomes a civilian Larry David of sorts, thrust into uncomfortable “Curb Your Enthusiasm”-style situations he brings on himself and doesn’t always know how to handle.

“Paul T. Goldman” also weaves in the metanarrative of the cast digesting what their exact responsibilities are here. It’s fascinating to see Woliner and the various actors’ changing relationship to the material, shifting in waves the longer they have direct contact with Paul’s chosen methods. Some see this as merely a job or a novelty. Some at least claim to see something deeper. They’re selective glimpses, but they all contribute to the idea that the “Paul T. Goldman” of 2023 underwent a few different iterations to arrive at its final form.

Along the way, Woliner uses the language and tropes of a true crime story for a purpose that’s not exactly parody or homage but meant to put the audience in the perspective of someone who sees his life as an unfolding saga. There are points when “Paul T. Goldman” seems to exist as the ultimate example of a “Why not?” mentality, a lark to indulge one man’s fantasy of fame just to see how it might turn out. What develops throughout the series transforms the baseline perception of Goldman from jilted lover and hopeful bestselling author into an oddly quintessential avatar for how an increasing number of people process the information of daily life.

“Paul T. Goldman”

Evans Vestal Ward/Peacock

It dovetails with “Paul T. Goldman” becoming a pretty illuminating case study in fame: What happens when people get it, get access to more, or are generally immersed in the process of making something the world has access to. Through Goldman’s eyes, even the most banal parts of the production process become magical. Whether (as various people interpret over the course of the season) that comes across as naiveté, ignorance, passion, enthusiasm, or something more manipulative, the hook of the show is that Paul T. Goldman is the star of “Paul T. Goldman,” and all that comes with that.

Woliner seems to understand that any documentary project filtered through one specific lens will be fraught. There are certain ways that “Paul T. Goldman” frames different stretches of the story to be self-aware at a minimum and self-critical when called for. As a veteran of Sacha Baron Cohen and Nathan Fielder projects — there’s some inescapable “Nathan for You” DNA in here on top of the vaguely “Rehearsal”-ish premise — Woliner’s background offers the show confidence to separate the aspiring artist from the aspiring art.

“Paul T. Goldman” doesn’t pity Goldman his circumstance and is manipulative only in the ways that a project like this invites. If there’s any shock value here, it’s not necessarily in Paul’s story but in how he, Woliner, and the cast process it. The show seesaws between Paul living out his dream and gradually torching the possibility of anyone ever getting the chance to do something like this again. “Who is this for?” is often lobbed as a blanket criticism of a hard-to-describe work. The appeal of “Paul T. Goldman” is realizing that question is the entire show’s reason for existing in the first place.

“Paul T. Goldman” premieres January 1 on Peacock. 

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