‘Menendez’ takes ‘Law & Order’ brand to new and old places
Law & Order is a television institution that has been on the air since 1990, and the franchise, including multiple spinoffs, has always proudly adhered to a tried-andtrue format. The design, the storytelling beats, the righteous detectives, crusading attorneys and, of course, the clanging sound effect — “DUN-dun” — are always there, no matter the crime of the week or the series subtitle. That is, until now.
NBC’s latest incarnation, Law & Order True Crime: The Menendez Murders (Tuesday, 10 ET/PT, out of four), marks a departure that grafts the trappings of the series onto an anthology format (a new case would follow in a second season) and a true story without its ripped-fromthe-headlines twist. Created by longtime writer René Balcer, it’s a bold step in the evolution of Law & Order that sort of works.
True Crime is an eight-part miniseries that retells the infamous story of Lyle and Erik Menendez (Miles Gaston Villanueva and Gus Halper), brothers who were convicted of the 1989 murders of their wealthy parents. Because the guilt of the subjects is known, the series is more interested in the trial than the investigation, and focuses on the defense, led by Edie Falco as lawyer Leslie Abramson.
It’s hard not to feel like True Crime is a less-engaging knockoff of FX’s acclaimed 2016 series The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story, which featured Sarah Paulson as prosecutor Marcia Clark, and similarities in subject matter, time period and structure are difficult to ignore.
What’s instantly apparent and unique to True Crime is its sympathetic point of view toward the brothers, who are given ample screen time for their side of the story. But, like O.J., it paints a female attorney with a terrible perm as its hero. And it works here as well — Falco imbues every scene with her magnetism.
Falco seems to delight in scenery chewing as the defense attorney with a soft spot for her clients and a glare that can wound. The actress elevates her every scene, and justifies the series as a showcase for her considerable skill.
The rest of the cast — Josh Charles as Erik’s psychiatrist, Jerome Oziel, Heather Graham as Oziel’s mistress and Sam Jaeger as the detective pursuing the case — often feel like heightened versions of their real-life counterparts. A sense of unreality permeates the story, worsened by erratic pacing, exaggerated stylization of the characters and blatant period markers, including an unsubtle use of MC Hammer’s Can’t Touch This.
True Crime struggles in two early episodes to maintain a consistent tone, peppering it with Law & Order stylizations. It’s a bit jarring to have these elements for some scenes and not others, but at least by the end of the second episode, the series has mostly dropped these clunkier markers.
True Crime’s biggest strength is that it does manage to recapture the addictive and easily watchable quality of Law & Order. The murders happened around the time that the first series premiered, lending it a nostalgic feeling. Some character and dialogue choices feel appropriately oldschool, including Jaeger’s weary detective offering one-liners you could imagine Lennie Briscoe (Jerry Orbach) delivering.
Ultimately, with a sensational story and a strong lawyer championing the cause, there’s plenty here to sustain Law & Order fans. Even if they already know how this trial ends.