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On Telling the Truth: Netflix’s ‘MONSTERS: THE LYLE AND ERIK MENENDEZ STORY’

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Netflix’s newest season of ‘Monsters’ has once again sparked controversy amongst true crime fanatics and viewers. But this goes beyond its perhaps problematic casting of infamous murderers with ‘sexy’ young Hollywood actors. This comes down to the way in which co-creators Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan approach truth telling within the American justice system. This is something that is becoming of increasing concern with the presidential re-election of convicted sex offender Donald Trump, a devastating setback internationally in politics, especially for women and survivors of sexual assault. The Menendez brothers’ case conveys the suffering experienced by survivors within the US and surrounding justice systems and highlights the important media awareness of male sexual assault through Murphy and Brennan’s portrayal.

The show was met with an overwhelming response from the internet, from TikTok thirst edits of its leading actors to various posts discussing and revisiting the case, and even calls for a retrial from fans and those involved in the show’s production. It has encouraged and spotlighted the voices of both victims of sexual assault and those at the core of the case, the Menendez brothers, their legal teams and their families.

This season follows the grisly story of Lyle and Erik Menendez, brothers convicted with murdering their parents in 1989. At the time of their conviction, the case gained immense popularity, partly due to its complexity and to the grotesque, shocking nature of their crime. The brothers received contradictory labels within the media, depicted as either spoiled rich children or handsome young victims. The show returns to the questions that gripped those who watched the real case— how could someone kill their own parents? And what led to such hatred for the ones who brought you into this world? In the show, we follow the case from the brothers planning to kill their parents, their arrest, the long and dense trial, breaking down many theories brought to light during it, up until when they are ultimately put away, tragically in separate facilities. It contextualises the family dynamics and represents the case in a logical, but also subjective manner, traversing the so-called “truth” of an instant that transformed these boys and their lives forever.

All the angles and perspectives of the case are presented very effectively, this makes it such a fascinating watch, gobbling up all the theories and evidence so that the audience can make up their own mind on what they think is true. On one hand this is fantastic storytelling, but on the other hand it takes away from the very real experiences of the Menendez brothers,

who, without a doubt, were victims in their own right. Monsters does allow for a range of voices to be heard and presents the bigger picture, but has been criticised for presenting it all as some kind of truth which is where it's backlash stems from. In particular, viewers have labelled the show as a “homosexual incest fantasy” that fetishies their abuse, due to the representation of the theory the brothers were having some sort of sexual relationship with one another. This ultimately diminishes their ongoing trauma. The family of the Menendez brothers expressed that the show has perpetuated a victimisation the pair and is a “grotesque shockudrama” that is “riddled with mistruths”. However, it is important to note that regardless of the torture the brothers endured, they are rightfully convicted murderers, and it is completely plausible that they should not be happy with portrayals of their crimes.

Ryan Murphy is no stranger to criticism, with his first season of Monsters being accused of glorifying and sexualising the infamous murderer Jeoffrey Dahmer (played by Evan Peters) rather than focusing on the victims and their stories. It is important that such programs handle their subject matter with care and sensitivity for the victims and real people involved, whilst also garnering engagement from those interested in their representation of true crime and human psychology. This is a fine line to tread, especially when the Menendez brothers are still fighting for their freedom and have since openly condemned the show.

After Erik Menendez made a statement bemoaning his portrayal, actor Javier Barden expressed in an interview that “[he] think[s] it's absolutely legitimate for [Erik] to express and have an opinion…the show doesn’t want to show one truth…the show has to show different views…based on research and facts and opinions”. In all honesty, whether the brothers lament it or not, I think the show's controversy is why it is so interesting, it sparks discussions and has led to further in depth research allowing for their case to gain more traction now over 30 years since they were first tried. Chloe Sevingy (icon, goddess etc!) — who plays Kitty Menendez— reflects that “nobody knows [what happened] except for those two boys…and their parents who are not here to say anything”, emboldening a universal hunger for the truth of the case. With this being said, I’m keen to watch the Menendez Brothers’ documentary and see their side of the story in my own quest for a subjective truth of the case.

The performances of the actors in this show were truly its best part (other than its soundtrack, namely ‘Dirty Cash (Money Talks)’ by The Adventures of Stevie V). In particular, the up-and-coming dreamboat Cooper Koch and smokin Nicolas Alexander Chavez (new hot priest dropped, for further viewing see the spine-chilling ‘Grotesquerie’ also by Ryan Murphy), who played the brothers. Koch’s mannerism as Erik were genuinely perfect, finding strength in embodying his vulnerability, which is most profound in the long cut episode where he exposes the sexual abuse and trauma he suffered at the hands of his parents. This scene was so powerful and really speaks to Koch’s talent as an actor and as someone who really advocated for the Menendez brothers by telling their stories with care and respect.

Chaves as Lyle was also incredible, the jump scare when his mother ripped off his toupee revealing his bald patch was probably the most gruesome part of the show. His portrayal forged a layered protective older brother, which stepped away from a previous perception as a manipulator who coerced his weak, younger brother into the crime. Ari Graynor who played Leslie Abramson soared in her role, encapsulating the force of nature that this woman was and still is! What an incredible human. Bardem’s performance as Jose Menendez was nuanced and terrifying, capturing the dimensionality of the abuser, who wasn’t presented as black and white. Bardem’s portrayal allowed for the show to represent the cycles of abuse and trauma and how this was so horrifically cut off with his death. Chloe Sevingy as Kitty Menendez was so tragically pathetic in her role. I found myself screaming at the television, telling her how to be a mother and not the hopeless complicit and suppressed housewife, haunted by her mental illnesses and own dark childhood of abuse. Clearly, all the collaborators took the time to understand and get into the heads of their characters, and you can tell how passionate they all were about this story and showing the bigger picture.

The story of the Menendez brothers continues to be relevant, with ideological debates surrounding the recent ‘CEO Killer’ (too thirsted over by the internet), we continue to reckon with the morals of murder and whether turning the gun back towards those in power is a way to move past their abuses and reclaim justice for the victims of an oppressive system. The show subverts the ‘he wanted it’ and ‘men can’t be victims’ rhetoric of male sexual abuse, exposing the reality of abuse and underlining the dynamics of trauma. It is crucial that all victims of abuse are given the space to heal and grow, and if they need, find the appropriate justice for their oppressors. This may not be by quashing the source of trauma with brute force, but through time and facing their truth head on. The show is a potent example of male vulnerability and treading the fine line of fetishisation, trauma, abuse and intergenerationality. It is complex, hot headed and opens much room for discussion. I cannot have one single opinion on it.

In one last fatal blow, we are left to consider —Who or what is a true monster? And what if the scariest monsters aren’t even monsters at all?

 
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