Shameless self-promotion has become a hallmark of our time, and no series explores this better than Angelyne. The five-part documentary-style drama about the LA icon who erected billboards of herself throughout the city during the 1980s is screening on Stan.

The show was created by Allison Miller (Brave New World) and Nancy Oliver (Six Feet Under, True Blood) and inspired by Hollywood Reporter feature stories written by Gary Baum. It stars and was produced by Emmy Rossum (Shameless), whose performance as Angelyne brings sensitivity and magic to a woman hungry for recognition and adoration for doing nothing except be who she wants to be.

Angelyne doesn’t sing, doesn’t dance, doesn’t act and doesn’t model. Well, she sings a bit. Her lyrics go something like this, “kiss me LA / you know I get off on you”. Surprisingly profound when sung and repeated over and over again.

Angelyne wants to unite the people of Los Angeles through her image. She sees herself as an “icon” and a “tease” and a “mystery”. She’s “whoever you want her to be”; her blonde, bright pink silhouette stopped traffic, caused jaw-drop and lit up Hollywood’s corners for years.

The series examines the impact that Angelyne’s billboards had on the LA community and people walking the streets, driving home and standing around water coolers at work talking about, well, Angelyne. “Who is she?” “Would she date me?” “Have you seen her new billboard?” What a nostalgic, heartfelt concept. The contemporary water cooler is a crazy, online place, littered with opinions, bad news, porn, memes, gifs, games, videos, and endless, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it content. Today, we’re drowning in the water cooler. Alone.

The notion of a billboard bringing us together is both quaint and incredibly touching. Everything about our lives is decentralised. We carry billboards in our pockets tailored to our every whim and preference. We each worship at completely different temples depending upon what feeds, algorithms, social media platforms, media outlets, inboxes and streaming services we choose. Even our identities are decentralised: anyone can be anything at any time. On the one hand, this is exciting because it opens us up to infinite possibilities and boundless creativity. On the other, it is destabilising and isolating.

Meanwhile, Angelyne was, and is, simply Angelyne. Big boobs. Blonde hair. Brings to mind the colour pink. And Barbie. She seeks the “fillet mignon” of billboard space and possesses a singularity and a joie de vivre that is sorely lacking in a culture that has become dominated by cancel culture, self-censorship, political correctness and corporate agendas.

Everything has gotten a touch serious. But throughout the series, after saying something challenging, or seeing onlookers stare, Angelyne will blow a kiss or release an ecstatic, “Ooooow!” as if to remind us all that this is a glorious game. Sure, it might be about sex, power, money, influence and ambition, but it’s hilarious, isn’t it? Ooooow!