TV Review: "Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story" (Episodes 6-9)
While the second half of the Netflix series doesn't hit quite as hard as the first half, it's still a fascinating portrait of two of the 20th century's most notorious murderers.
Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
As I wrote this time last week, I was really quite impressed with the first five episodes of Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Brothers Story, the second season of Ryan Murphy’s series examining various murderous individuals and our collective fascination with them. Now that I’ve finished the series, I have to say that the latter four episodes don’t do the series as a whole any favors. Once matters shift to the courtroom, Monsters becomes almost indistinguishable from the many other courtroom dramas that have appeared on our TV screens over the years. Just as importantly, there are also some creative choices thrown into the mix that threaten to sabotage the really interesting work the first few episodes were doing regarding the Menendezes and their own explanations for their actions.
What these episodes do accomplish, however, is to point out how fundamentally flawed the trials were, particularly after the judge decides that he has no patience or desire to let the “abuse excuse” into his courtroom. Despite the objections of attorney Leslie Abramson (once again portrayed with scene-stealing panache by Ari Graynor), the trial proceeds, with the prosecutor given remarkable leeway when it comes to questioning both the brothers and the other witnesses called to testify. Whether or not these scenes exactly correspond to what actually happened during that second trial is somewhat beside the point, since what they are meant to convey is the extent to which the brothers were arguably given a very unfair trial the second time around (the first trial deadlocked).
And then there’s Vicki Lawrence.
In this series, she plays one of the jurors in the second trial and, with her biting dialogue and her repeated brow-beating of the other members of the jury, she in some ways comes to stand in for an entire culture that saw the brothers’ claims of abuse at their father’s hands as implausible/impossible (either because of the belief that men can’t be sexually assaulted or because they should have done more to try to get away). Lawrence has of course made an entire career out of playing feisty women with a very low tolerance for what they see as foolishness–Thelma Harper, anyone?--and she is definitely a highlight of the concluding episodes. Unfortunately for all of us she ends up having a heart attack during deliberations, a true-to-life event that ended up having an impact on whether or not the brothers would face the death sentence.
Lawrence is, of course, not the only scenery chewer in these concluding episodes. Nathan Lane–who also made a notable appearance in The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story–is given more to do in the concluding episodes. His portrayal of journalist Dominick Dunne, who has a major axe to grind against the Menendezes, is a remarkably subdued one for Lane, and he brings remarkable depth to Dunne, whose own daughter’s killer was given a remarkably lenient sentence despite the overwhelming proof against him.
The problem, though, is that Monsters basically uses Dunne as a mouthpiece to peddle various theories about the brothers, many of which are completely fabricated on the show’s part. (In that respect Dunne bears more than a little resemblance to Truman Capote, the subject of another Murphy project, Feud: Capote vs. The Swans. He seems to love nothing more than holding court in a posh restaurant, while his acolytes wait for him to share his gossipy tidbits and opinions about the case). The more the trial goes on and it becomes likely that they might get a more lenient sentence of even be found not guilty, the more he seems intent on besmirching them, whether it’s claiming that they should have basically just manned up and put up with the abuse–because, as he says, his dad beat him and simply got out as soon as he could–or implying that they might actually be carrying on an incestuous love affair with one another (the question of whether or not Erik might be gay is an enduring interest of the series, even though there’s no indication he was or is). It all makes for fascinating viewing, but I think
While I found some elements of the court scenes to be fairly rote and by-the-book, I did appreciate the extent to which they gave many of the witnesses a chance to speak of their own encounters with the Menendezes and their claims about their parents’ behavior. When it comes to the question of whether the Menendez brothers really were molested, abused, and raped by their father, it would seem that Monsters, at least, seems to take them at their word and wants us to do the same. At the same time, however, it seems to also believe that their claims of having committed the murder out of a sincere belief that they were in imminent danger of their lives was a convenient fiction that never held up to even the barest amount of legal scrutiny.
The real heart of the show, however, remains the bond between Lyle and Eric, and that remains true even during the darkest days of the trial. It even manages to endure the fact that Lyle is foolish enough to tell a complete stranger some incriminating facts about the two of them, which causes a stir and infuriates Erik. In the end, of course, they’re both found guilty and sentenced to life in prison and, as a final wound, they’re sent to separate institutions. Given just how much they’ve been through it feels like a wrenching separation, even if also, perhaps, a justified one.
Though these last episodes were a bit of a disappointment, they in no way detract from what I see as the larger successes of the series as a whole. Though Ryan Murphy’s turn to true crime docudramas may not be to everyone’s taste–and though it does sensationalize some elements of the case and its aftermath–the truth is that the producer retains his ability to force audiences to confront the uglier side of American history, and themselves.