As a seasoned viewer who’s seen more than my fair share of true crime dramatizations, I must confess that “Monsters” left me feeling somewhat underwhelmed, much like a stale bag of popcorn after an overly hyped horror flick. While it certainly stirred up some thought-provoking discussions about the nature of truth, accountability, and complicity, it seemed to fall short in delivering a cohesive and impactful narrative.
During a span of 35 minutes within its entire nine-episode series, Netflix’s “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” does something unique.
In the fifth installment, titled “The Scarred Man,” it was Ian Brennan, one of the series’ co-creators, who penned the script and Michael Uppendahl who took the helm as director. This episode features a prolonged, single-take dialogue between Erik Menendez, portrayed by Cooper Koch, and his lawyer Leslie Abramson, played by Ari Graynor. The scene commences a few feet behind Abramson, gradually moving closer to Erik as he recounts the traumatic history of sexual abuse he suffered at the hands of his oppressive father José, brilliantly portrayed by Javier Bardem.
The performance as a whole is just an illusion, but it’s still an illusion, so why argue about it? The writing is precise, painfully clear, and chilling. Its straightforwardness effectively creates suspense and focuses attention on Koch, who reveals his deep emotions. We witness the effect that recalling these memories has on Erik, and through Abramson’s voice, we sense her being even more deeply affected.
The audience should feel just as affected by this story as Abramson does, yet the tale contains a hint of uncertainty about its truthfulness, painting a nightmarish picture. As previously mentioned and will be repeated, Erik is an aspiring actor who demonstrated his talent with a heartfelt Shakespearean soliloquy. While there’s no clear evidence that Erik is being dishonest, if you tend to view him as a skilled manipulator, this segment may not change your perspective.
In essence, everything Monsters seems to aspire to achieve – blending doubt with a deep desire for understanding – is encapsulated in a standout episode, unfortunately appearing sporadically and fleetingly in other instances. This pattern is remarkably similar to how the series Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, produced by Brennan and Ryan Murphy, claimed not to be an exploitative portrayal of the infamous serial killer, yet only truly deviated from mere voyeuristic spectacle towards the heart of the season with episodes “Silenced” and “Cassandra.” For the most part, the rest of that series was well-performed but sensationalist.
I believe “Monsters” isn’t as blatantly low-quality as “Monster”. However, it exceedingly stretches to nine hours, and its final two chapters lack clarity in structure, offer minimal thematic depth, and present a highly biased perspective on the Menendez brothers, their claimed victimization and culpability. This portrayal seems less than compelling.
For individuals who may not recall the events of the 2017 NBC miniseries “Law & Order True Crime” or any related documentaries or news programs: A reminder that in 1989, the CEO of Live Entertainment, José Menendez, and his wife Kitty (portrayed by Chloë Sevigny), were brutally murdered in their Beverly Hills mansion. Their sons, Lyle (Nicholas Alexander Chavez) and Erik, initially stated they’d returned to a grisly crime scene, suggesting the possibility of a mob hit as the culprit.
In unusual situations linked to Dallas Roberts’ character Dr. Oziel, who may have been an unlicensed psychologist, the brothers admitted to the murders. However, under different bizarre circumstances concerning his crystal-loving girlfriend (Leslie Grossman as Judalon), these confessions were made public. As a result, the Menendez brothers were apprehended and gained worldwide notoriety.
The sensational news coverage surrounding the siblings intensified as they alleged they were victims of abuse and sexual assault by their father, and further claimed they had murdered him in self-defense and their mother due to her involvement.
Before O.J. Simpson’s trial became iconic, it was overshadowed by another significant case. However, the O.J. trial eventually surpassed that one in notoriety. The series attempts to comment on law and order in 1990s Los Angeles through the character of O.J. Simpson, a former football star turned suspected murderer. But the series’ approach falls short as it merely mentions other famous cases like the Menendez brothers, Rodney King, and Zsa Zsa Gabor without developing a substantial argument. The show “Monsters” excels in capturing the superficial aspects of pop culture from that era, using Reebok Pumps, Milli Vanilli, and an out-of-place Vanilla Ice montage to enhance its narrative.
It might not be wise for Murphy to get so near both in terms of location and timing to such a significant production like “The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story” again, considering how much they share similarities. In fact, there are several common aspects that make “American Crime Story” appear more favorable.
A more perplexing situation arises from the fact that Ryan Murphy’s productions for Netflix and FX, namely “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” and “American Sports Story: Aaron Hernandez“, debuted just two days apart. When viewed together, these dramas, both exploring the complexities of wealth, fame, murder, and abuse (implicitly hinting at repressed homosexuality), seem to share similar narrative flexibilities, an overtly voyeuristic portrayal of their troubled, muscular protagonists, and excessive runtime lengths that only a figure like Murphy could manage.
“Watching ‘Monsters’ made me value ‘American Sports Story’ even more because it critically examines how organizations like the NCAA and NFL exploit young athletes’ aggression for financial gain, only to discard them and their violence afterwards.
The term “Monsters” is not subtly used. Often, it veers towards an exaggerated balance of believability that can potentially trivialize either gruesome deaths or prolonged abuse, all under the pretense of retelling a story that has been repeatedly told in the past. I believe it’s feasible to create a series with this title while keeping the true identity of the monsters as ambiguous and interchangeable. In fact, “The Hurt Man” manages this effectively, and the episodes surrounding it – Paris Barclay’s “Kill or Be Killed” and Max Winkler’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over” – present scenes that will leave viewers in a state of moral dilemma. The overly dramatic opening and closing episodes, however, fail to function either as intricate narratives or as historical enigmas.
Generally speaking, Monsters appear to be in a complex situation where they seem to want multiple outcomes. Are these Monsters the siblings? The guardians? Or could we, as spectators, also fall into this category by being fixated on cases like these? Are media personalities such as Dominick Dunne (portrayed by Nathan Lane) monstrous for profiting from these stories and often stripping humanity from those involved, even when they are aware of the implications?
How does this affect Ryan Murphy and his regular collaborators, who continually produce stories of similar themes, making overlaps inevitable and future ideas already planned for years? I find that Monsters fails to acknowledge its own involvement in these issues, and it significantly loses depth due to the absence of self-reflection.
At least the acting is good?
Bardem is terrifying in a performance that’s wildly outsized but offers enough subtlety to position his howling patriarch as both a chilling villain and as a victim himself — possibly just a cog in cycles of abuse that may represent the saga’s deepest tragedy. I don’t think the show “gets” Kitty at all, but in Sevigny’s inscrutable interpretation, that’s part of the point. Kitty’s become a footnote in an awful history and that at least feels sad.
Chavez portrays the more volcanic of the two leading brothers with a passion that occasionally explodes onto the screen, sometimes even comedically so. However, it’s Koch who truly steals the show, and “The Hurt Man” is likely to earn him an Emmy nomination next summer.
Additionally, I found Graynor quite intriguing, particularly her growing impatience and doubtfulness as the case dragged on, which stood out as one of the few aspects I admired in the later episodes. At least, she seemed more authentic portrayed as a curly-haired lawyer named “Abramson” compared to Edie Falco’s depiction in the NBC mini-series.
For nearly ten exhausting hours, the series “Monsters” delves into several thought-provoking themes. However, despite its efforts, it seems to conclude that discerning truth can often be challenging – a message it repeatedly drives home by reenacting significant events in the chronology. I understand the intention behind this approach, but I’m not convinced it’s executed effectively or enlighteningly.
In the role of Lyle’s lawyer, portrayed by Jess Weixler, she expresses, “I’m not saying these stories aren’t genuine. It’s just that I find it hard to accept them in the manner he narrates them.
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2024-09-20 16:56