spoiler alert: This article discusses the 'Ren Faire' finale, currently streaming on Max.
Your Majesty, may you live forever. Theme park founder George Coulam left his subordinates in the dark as he searched for a worthy heir to purchase his stake in the Texas Renaissance Festival. But after weighing his options, he finally found the right person to take charge. He was who he was.
“None of us ever thought there would be someone who would take over,” says Lance Oppenheim, director and executive producer of “Ren Faire.” He said, “There is no world in which George would give it up.”
The finale of the HBO docuseries sees the octogenarian reject another multi-million dollar offer to buy his fiesta, deciding instead to maintain the status quo as ruler of his kingdom. In fact, everyone seems to end up close to where they were when the story began. In other words, it's a Moebius strip conclusion that sees the future heirs locked in the same long game to take over the fair.
Oppenheim reconnected with Coulam a few months ahead of the series premiere. The punishing purgatorial nature of the situation seems to have been lost on him. At least that's what Coulam claimed.
“He said, ‘Oh, I had no idea I was causing you so much anxiety.’” Oppenheim said, scrolling eagerly through his camera roll. “That person is a fraud, but he is also old. “It’s hard to know if they’re being naughty on purpose or impulsive.”
Oppenheim then turns his phone around, ready to press play on the video. He pulled out the recording one evening in April when he returned to Todd Mission, Texas, to screen the first episode of “Ren Faire” on his subject. Coulam can be seen at his home with his eyes glued to the television.
Oddly enough, Louie Migliaccio is also present at the screening, watching the episode over Coulam's shoulder. The kettle corn giant's two bids to buy the festival ended abruptly during the series. But he is inside Coulam's living room, watching his defeat unfold next to the man responsible.
“When Louie saw that, he wanted to be with George,” says Oppenheim. “George said, ‘Why are you here?’ But Louis brought her whole family to the screening.”
Oppenheim then presses play on the video. The group watches an early scene in which Coulam delivers an intense monologue about a Swiss company specializing in assisted dying, expressing his willingness to pay to end his own life when the time comes.
While filming Coulam's reaction to the episode, Oppenheim notices something and zooms in on it. The festival owner is quietly following his speech word for word. Well then, laugh out loud. Clearly this was not a new lecture. Coulam would probably find it interesting by offering it to many people in his life.
“He has an awareness of comedic timing in saying certain things that have been said many times before,” Oppenheim says. “He is, after all, a troll in the original sense of the word. He likes to be the one moving the pieces on the chessboard.”
The filmmaker then closes the video and switches to audio recording. He finds a video of Kulam speaking his thoughts after the screening.
“It was great. People are going to like it because it’s different,” says Coulam. When asked if he enjoyed filming, he smiles sheepishly: “It was kind of half and half. Sometimes it’s a little fun. But sometimes not so much. ”
Oppenheim goes on to describe how Coulam frequently criticized the documentary crew during production, enthusiastically suggesting they invest in “high-quality equipment” and sometimes refusing to sit still long enough to settle into subdued images. He sometimes turned into a film director.
“As he was getting his manicure done, the manicurist looked at me to say something while George was talking. He was angry with her. ‘Excuse me, lady. Don't talk to them. You spoke to me. ' says Oppenheim. “There was a lot of unpredictability and confusion. And he always said the same thing. 'Let's get you ugly cameramen, shut up, sit down, and let's get started.'
Oppenheim recalls these outbursts with fondness, but also with lasting embarrassment.
“To me, he is a very lonely person who has a lot to gain from controlling people. The only real comforts he has are inanimate objects and books,” says Oppenheim. “Of course he has a naughty side to him, but it all works from the same place. He can see the root of his discontent.”
Coulam's tyranny comes to a head early in the finale when he meets Jeffrey Baldwin, the entertainment director to whom he has been loyal for decades, and unceremoniously fires him. The reason is both vague and simple. “You make me angry.”
It was an absolute turnaround for Baldwin, who was celebrating another successful season with his fellow employees. In the preceding scene, as Baldwin feels the thrill of having his dream job, he delivers an emotionally intense reprise of his most cherished community theater role. While sitting in the passenger seat and filming for the camera, Baldwin begins to line up and sing along to the ballad “Who I'd Be” from Shrek the Musical. Baldwin heartily recites the opening lyrics, “I think I’ll be a hero where sword and armor clash,” seemingly projecting his lifelong ambition to lead a Renaissance festival into a delicate serenade.
“He wanted to show us how to detox a day. He wanted to play it,” Oppenheim says of the “Shrek” interlude. “I’m sure there are people who say, ‘Maybe the director told us to do it this way.’ But there are so many unplanned moments. I couldn’t have predicted that.”
Oppenheim calls Baldwin “the heart of the show” and says he was the first employee to fully welcome the making of a documentary into his life. Additionally, Baldwin introduced Coulam to the producers and guaranteed their access. The finale ends with Baldwin pleading to be rehired and rejoining the festival after dutifully accepting his demotion. It is a fate that Oppenheim seems to lament.
“With Jeff, I always thought, ‘Bro, you’re better than here.’ But fortunately he was looking for another job,” says Oppenheim. “Jeff is very humble and loyal. Over time, George didn't need it. He gets bored with it. He wants someone who can challenge him and destroy them. There are no wins for Jeff because you win every day.”
Coulam's self-made enemy is Darla Smith, a former elephant mahout turned general manager. Most of the finale follows Smith negotiating a suitable deal for Coulam to pay him cash at the festival. Her efforts are rejected and belittled by her superiors. The final title card reveals that Smith was ultimately fired by Coulam.
“She is probably the only person in the entire show who actually tries to defend herself against George rather than accept his anger,” says Oppenheim.
Smith's unwavering dignity also extends to the way she approaches the docuseries itself. Oppenheim said he was initially skeptical about the production. Her ultimate fear: “Don’t make this into ‘Tiger King.’”
“She cleverly said, ‘I don’t know if it’s politically beneficial for me to participate in this,’” Oppenheim says. “Once she realized that things were changing around her and that it was hard to know what was going to happen, she said, ‘I’m ready to do this. Let’s talk about what it’s like to be here.’”
Even after ousting his main dealmakers, Coulam still sits on the throne. The Texas Renaissance Festival is currently planning to celebrate its 50th anniversary in the upcoming fall season. But at 86, Kulam, a self-described 'sexually active white male entrepreneur', is still nearing the end of his reign. After the king leaves, what happens to his kingdom?
“I question whether the fair can be run democratically because there are shareholders. But there are also worlds where that no longer exists. I think this is a very real possibility,” says Oppenheim. “I could see that house being sold and turned into a mall or suburban housing. The reality is that Houston is close and real estate values are rising. Land is probably the most valuable part of the whole thing. I hope this doesn’t happen.”
Many of the festival's residents already seem to be living with anxiety about their long-term future. While filming his docu-series, Oppenheim noted repeated hopes among his staff that his Hollywood creation could be a miracle savior.
“Some people ask, ‘Can you take the rest of the show’s budget and just buy the fair?’ We definitely don't have enough money to that“But if HBO gives us seasons 2 and 3 and 4 and 5, they might be the real owners.”
He stepped away. Then shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I doubt it.”