Raul Esparza | Through the Shattered Lens

It’s strange how things work out.

In 1980, something terrible occurred in the town of Wylie, Texas. Candy Montgomery, who was a Sunday School teacher and who had what seemed like the ideal life, killed Betty Gore. Betty was reportedly one of Candy’s closest friends but Candy still ended up striking her 41 times with an axe. After Candy was arrested, she revealed that she had cheated with Betty’s husband. She also said that she attacked Betty in self-defense. At her trial, she was ultimately found not guilty.

It was one of those small town scandals that the media tends to love and, 42 years after it all happened, it’s still spoken of down here in Texas. Every five years or so, there’s a big “where are they now?” article in the Dallas Morning News. Betty’s widowed husband married a woman that he started dating a few weeks after Betty’s death. Candy’s lawyer, Don Crowder, tried to launch a political career and, when that failed, got addicted to cocaine and ended up committing suicide. As for Candy, she divorced the husband who stood with her through the trial and apparently now lives, under a new name, in another town.

Still, despite the case’s continuing notoriety in Texas, I was recently a bit surprised to learn that there was not one but two Candy Montgomery miniseries in development. HBO has Love and Death, which stars Elizabeth Olsen as Candy. Love and Death is scheduled to come out later this year and it’ll probably suck because it’s written by David E. Kelley and this is exactly the type of story that’s going to bring out all of his worst instincts. Meanwhile, Hulu produced Candy, starring Jessica Biel as Candy and Melanie Lynesky as Betty Gore.

Candy aired, over five nights, last week and I have to say that Hulu did a good job of presenting the story. I’m usually a bit cynical about true crime miniseries (especially ones that are set in small town Texas in the late 70s) but Candy was actually really good. The first episode featured a somewhat frazzled but always smiling Candy as she tried to balance a day that included swim lessons, bible school, taking the kids to see The Empire Strikes Back, and, of course, killing her best friend. The final episode featured the courtroom drama, in which the ghost of Betty Gore could only watch as Candy Montgomery made herself the center of the tragedy. In between, Candy provided a portrait of small-town life, church gossip, a mid-life crisis, and a lot of shag carpeting and wood paneling. The miniseries balanced melodrama with satire but it also worked as a portrait of a group of people who all realized that their lives hadn’t turned out the way that they wanted them too. Both Candy and Betty are portrayed as being frustrated and dissatisfied with what the world has to offer them. The difference is that, while Betty wears her pain for all to see, Candy hides everything behind a quick smile and a superficially friendly manner. In the end, one gets the feeling that Candy was acquitted because no one wanted to believe that someone who seemed so perfect could do something so horrific.

Candy is also well-served by its cast. Melanie Lynesky is often heart-breaking as Betty Gore, while also still playing her with just enough anger that Candy’s story of being attacked is not easy to dismiss. Jessica Biel keeps you guessing as Candy, playing her as someone who you would probably want to be friends with, even though you can’t help but suspect that she would also probably gossip about you behind your back. Timothy Simons and Pablo Schrieber are well-cast as Candy and Betty’s clueless husbands. Simons especially deserves some credit for generating sympathy for a character who, as written, could have been portrayed as just being a caricature. And yes, Justin Timberlake does show up as the deputy who investigated the crime. While it does feel a bit like stunt casting, Timberlake is convincing once you get used to the 70s porn mustache.

Though it aired without the fanfare that greeted other Hulu miniseries like Dopesick, Pam & Tommy, and The Girl From Plainville, Candy is a compulsively watchable and, at times, even thought-provoking work of true crime. Without any of the slow spots that marred The Girl From Plainville or Dopesick‘s preachiness, Candy is definitely one that will benefit from being binged. Check it out the next time you have five hours to kill.

Last night’s Lifetime movie premiere, Custody, didn’t really feel like a Lifetime film.

This was largely because it really wasn’t. Custody was written and directed by the acclaimed theatrical director, James Lapine. The cast features not only Emmy winner Tony Shalhoub and Oscar nominee Catalina Sandino Moreno but also two Oscar winners, Viola Davis and Ellen Burstyn. Unlike most Lifetime films, Custody was not filmed in Canada. There were no Toronto landmarks in the background. (You never realize how much you miss Canada until it’s gone.) Custody played at Tribeca last year. Much like Stockholm, Pennsylvania, Custody was made for a theatrical release but it ended up premiering on television instead. As a result, Custody did not follow the usual Lifetime 8 act pattern. The commercial breaks felt awkward. With a 150 minutes running time, this film tested my four-minute attention span.

The other thing that set Custody apart from most other Lifetime films was that it wasn’t much fun to watch. The great thing about Lifetime movies is that they are almost always fun. It doesn’t matter what serious subject is being examined. It doesn’t matter how dramatic things may get. Lifetime movies are always fun. To use one of my favorite terms, Lifetime movies embrace the melodrama. Lifetime films push the limits. Lifetime films say, “You think we won’t introduce a crazy twin halfway through the movie? JUST WATCH US! You think we won’t toss in a sudden case of amnesia or a cheating husband or a psychotic au pair in lingerie? YOU DON’T KNOW LIFETIME!”

Custody, on the other hand, was a very serious movie about a very serious topic and therefore, it wasn’t much fun to watch. In fact, Custody was a bit of a well-intentioned mess. It followed one case as it worked its way through the family court system. Sara Diaz (Moreno) has been wrongly accused of being an unfit mother. Her attorney is Ally Fisher (Hayden Panettiere), who has just graduated from law school and who comes from a rich family. Ally’s grandmother is played by Ellen Burstyn, largely because everyone’s rich grandmother is played by Ellen Burstyn. Representing the state is Keith (Dan Fogler), who has absolutely horrid taste in ties. The judge is played by Viola Davis and she’s going through a messy divorce from Tony Shalhoub.

I could see what Lapine was going for. Custody juggles several plotlines, showing how everyone involved in the case has their own individual biases and problems to deal with. Will the judge’s dissolving marriage make her more or less sympathetic to Sara? Will the white and privileged Ally ever be able to truly understand Sara’s situation? Will Keith ever learn how to properly select a tie? These issues may seem petty when taken on their own but, when crammed together, they form one big human drama.

Or, at least, that seems to have been the plan. Lapine gets some good performances from his cast but Custody never quite comes together. This is one of those heavy-handed films where characterization is more likely to be advanced by a lengthy monologue than by action. Add to that, Custody is ultimately far too enamored of the family court system. Everyone means only the best and the bureaucracy is your friend.

I will say this. Based on my own experience working as an administrative assistant in a law office, Custody does get one thing very right. Male lawyers are always the worst dressed people at any courthouse. On this count, Dan Fogler played one of the most realistic attorneys ever seen on TV.