My passions come in waves.
Each month brings forward a new hyperfixation for my subconscious to mull over, and the extensive research that ensues usually leaves my family well-informed on the topic, as well, due to my effort to involve others.
Whether it be the constant news feed of the catastrophe that was the Titan submersible in 2023 or my annotated books on the disaster at the Chernobyl power plant in 1986, there’s always something I’m invested in. Most recently, it’s been my rehashed fascination with the 1989 Menendez case.
The recent release of the new Netflix adaptation, Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, and its extremely public criticism, owed to producer Ryan Murphy’s biased stance on the case, made me intrigued as to why it was receiving immense backlash; my personal experience with the show proved why the public collectively detests it.
The show follows the real events of the Menendez family following the brutal murders of parents Jose and Kitty (Javier Bardem and Chloë Sevigny) by their two sons, Erik and Lyle (Cooper Koch and Nicholas Alexander Chavez). The episodes following the intense and graphic introductory act venture into the affairs following the night of the homicides, including the arrest process, the boys’ unrevealed sexual abuse motivation, and the extensive trials where it was all admitted.
To begin by diving right into the center of major criticism surrounding the series, it’s become abundantly clear that far too many of the scenes are based on lies that were clarified in the courtroom over 30 years ago. Although I understand entirely exaggerating some aspects to provide filling for the plot, Murphy took the conspiracies surrounding the case too seriously.
It was inexplicably frustrating that there were numerous times when I had to hit pause and explain to my parents, who were just as invested in the show as I was, a plot hole or something utterly false.
I shouldn’t have to congratulate the producer of an increasingly popular series that he at least got the basic facts right: Lyle and Erik were sexually abused by both their mother and father from the age of six years old and, in Erik’s case, until the year of the murders when he was eighteen.
However, the false aspects they included were hard to ignore. The implication that the brothers had an incestuous relationship with each other was displayed in multiple scenes, the fact that they went around Beverly Hills to theaters and restaurants trying to obtain an alibi when they never actually left the house, the suggestion that Erik was homosexual and that he might never know what his sexuality is after Jose’s abuse, and simple forensic facts about the crime scene were all key details about the case that were hard to see being portrayed as the truth.
The scenes that upset me the most—besides the vividly descriptive reenactments of the multiple facets of the sexual abuse they endured—were the ones where Lyle was depicted as a remorseless, disrespectful, and blatantly vile human being. As someone who’s reviewed authentic trial footage and researched heavily on the topic, Chavez’s performance as the older brother was, mildly speaking, extraordinarily misleading.
I’m not slandering the actor for simply doing his job on set because, bottom line, his acting was superb, but the intense screaming scenes, the way he was shown abusing Erik physically, and his excessively aggressive nature were inaccurate. Given the way Lyle behaved in court and Erik’s explanation of his constant adoration and protection from his brother, it’s safe to say that the show’s impression of the character was unfair.
Furthermore, there were instances where the entire series gave the idea that the whole thing was a joke: the scene outlining the escape plan where Lyle and Erik are shown with horrendous plastic surgery and hairstyles, their first days in prison where Lyle was complaining about the lack of dimes to make calls, his self-centered tendencies when asking for tanning lotion and tape for his toupee, and cleaning his hairpiece with Erik’s toothbrush I’m sure were all meant to represent their brotherhood and to create a lighthearted aspect to the show. Still, they felt terribly out of place in the gravity of their situation.
I suppose the only positive feelings I have toward this series are surrounding the majority of the actors’ performances. Koch leaned into Erik’s emotional side, which was seen in the courtroom footage; a majority of his work involved lots of tears, rightfully so. The entirety of the fifth installment, titled “The Hurt Man” after the name Erik gave himself as a child, all 35 minutes, was shot in a singular take. The fact that it featured only Erik and his lawyer, Leslie Abramson (Ari Graynor), provided a window for Koch to truly shine in his natural image in front of the camera. The episode was devastating, revolting, and downright spectacular, everything the show should’ve been.
It was also rewarding to watch the dynamic shift between Abramson and the journalist who was captivated by the case, Dominick Dunne (Nathan Lane). Because of Dunne’s previous experience with criminal defense lawyers, as the man who murdered his daughter years prior was set free, he already had obvious resentment towards the fact that Abramson was defending two killers; however, after he listened to the brothers’ testimonies on the years of sexual abuse they endured, he offered a heartfelt apology to their lawyer for his behavior as he truly believed their story.
It was moments such as these that made the show worth watching. I had to keep reminding myself that there were some respectable elements. I loved the multiple angles and perspectives that were included, but the blatant inaccuracies that could be caught by anyone with a basic understanding of the case were too challenging to look past. Being based on such a historical trial means that it’s crucial to get the details correct, as there are now thousands of people fighting for the brother’s release. With evidence to back up my claim, the Menendez men shouldn’t have gotten life in prison without the possibility of parole, they should be receiving intense therapy after what they experienced. But Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story paints an inaccurate picture and makes the viewer doubt who the true monsters were—the kids or the parents—when it’s a fact that shouldn’t be questioned.
