On Martha Stewart and the Perils of "Perfection"

What the new Netflix documentary gets right and wrong.

An impossibly quaint road slices through a lush green canopy, trees leaning with dreamlike whimsy into an archway. Leaves gently dance, cascading branches sway in the wind like lazy limbs, birds chirp across every corner. You could open a storybook with this scene.

The Director asks, “What is it you most dislike?” 

Martha: “That's a hard question to answer.” 

The screen slides into macro shots of nature unfolding, almost as if we’re intruding on a private moment. Close-ups of round, purple Allium blooms in soft focus, a Peony spreading its creamy petals, an Azalea flaunting vibrant blush ruffles. The camera lingers with the deliberation of a nature documentary, but we’re watching still life: a tidy windowsill with wood-handled sponges framing a crisp New England morning. Outside, donkeys graze. Inside, bowls of fruit and rolling pins of varying rich woods line up in soldierly order, just like Martha likes it.

Martha’s familiar voice, commanding and calm, cuts in with unhurried precision, …