Review of the Menendez brothers’ Netflix series “Monsters”: “This is crap”

“Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” is an ominous retelling of the infamous crime. The second installment in their “Monsters” anthology for Netflix, created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, it follows brothers Lyle (an incredible Nicholas Alexander Chavez) and Erik (a stellar Cooper Koch). After suffering emotional, physical and sexual abuse at the hands of their father José (Javier Bardem) and their mother Mary Louise, aka “Kitty” (Chloë Sevigny)—so the series goes—the two murder their parents in cold blood. The series, which chronicles the brothers’ upbringing, the murders and everything afterward, is too long and exhaustive. The show tries to uncover the circumstances that led to the crime while also shedding light on Erik and Lyle’s trauma. But in the end, the narrative feels pointless and bizarre.

“Menendez” is set in October 1989, two months after Kitty and José’s deaths. Lyle and Erik are driving to their parents’ funeral in a limousine while “Songbird” by Kenny G is playing on the radio. Lyle, the older brother, seems carefree and composed, but Erik begins to sob uncontrollably, seemingly out of nowhere. The scene immediately shows who the two men are. One brother is emotional and full of feelings, the other is tense and angry.

From there, the narrative veers back and forth in time, revealing the reign of terror that reigned in the Menendez household and drove the brothers to commit patricide. Bardem is terrifying and hideous as José, while Sevigny is a pitiless, pathetic woman. Erik and Lyle, for their part, are a grotesque mixture of entitlement and prey.

The murders are depicted in very graphic and gory detail, and the plot recounts various police mishaps that initially allow the brothers to avoid suspicion. In the months following the murders, Erik, deeply suicidal and tormented by images of his dead parents, confesses his actions to his therapist Dr. Jerome Oziel (Dallas Roberts), eventually leading to his and Lyle’s arrest. Judalon Smyth (a perfectly cast Leslie Grossman) delights as Dr. Oziel’s lover and former patient who plays a crucial role in the brothers’ arrest and their trial in 1993. The series also introduces criminal defense attorney Leslie Abramson (Ari Graynor), whose tenacity and talent are pigeonholed by the misogyny in the legal profession, the court system, and her affection for Erik.

The first half of Menendez is excellent, but episode 5, “The Hurt Man,” is the highlight. Although no sexual abuse is explicitly depicted, Erik speaks at length and in vivid detail with his lawyer, Leslie, about the rape and abuse he endured at the hands of his father throughout his life. The episode is cleverly shot in one long take as the camera slowly zooms in on his face.

Unfortunately, the show hits a dead end after the fifth episode. The ponderous tone, which oscillates between doom and light kitsch (there’s a shocking toupee and over-the-top homoeroticism), implodes in on itself, and the remaining episodes are a repetitive slog.

Episode 6, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” harks back to the relationship between José and Kitty, from their courtship to their increasingly strained marriage. While this chapter shows the couple’s childhood (both marked by abuse) and gives Bardem and Sevigny a chance to showcase their distinct talents, it adds little to the tension or structure of the series overall. The cluttered episode should have been cut entirely and these flashbacks integrated into the first half of the series.

The rest of the episodes are just as ambitious. In addition to the Menendez family, just like in “Dahmer: Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story,” Murphy and Brennan introduce several key players who revolve around the brothers and their trials. Vanity Fair reporter Dominick Dunne (Nathan Lane) becomes fixated on the details of the case. After losing his only daughter to an act of violence, he is determined to see that Erik and Lyle are punished, especially in the court of public opinion. Episodes 7, “Showtime,” and 9, “Hang Man,” reimagine Kitty and José’s killers from Dominick’s perspective. He also tells how the brothers cope in prison, including their relationships inside and outside the prison walls. While Lane is great, his character adds little to the story overall.

In the series, as in real life, the brothers face two trials spanning seven years – and the courtroom scenes in “Menendez” are tedious and nerve-wracking. With the tone already so off-kilter, these sequences are a strange, never-ending exercise in countless witnesses, legal maneuvers and testimony.

Los Angeles was a very special place in the late 80s and early 90s. Rodney King’s beating, the resulting riots, the death penalty in California, and even OJ Simpson’s arrest and acquittal all revolved around the brothers’ time in the spotlight. But instead of subtly incorporating these plot points, Murphy and Brennan insist on hammering these facts into the audience. At one point, Erik even speaks to Simpson from his neighboring cell and suggests that the accused former football player should agree to a plea bargain.

Despite its gripping subject matter and stellar performances, Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story has no idea what it wants to be. As a result, it simply dissolves into a retelling of unspeakable abuses and gruesome crimes. The bigger issue, however, is who and where we are as a society. When we participate in the depiction of murderous and sick people, no matter how heinous their upbringing may have been, we are leaning on our own unbridled monstrosities.

“Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” is now available to stream on Netflix.