The day Ryan Murphy stops working with Jessica Lange is the day I stop watching him, I fear.
To mere observers, a grudge can seem like just that: a grudge. Shallow, inconsequential, and probably fixable. But for those involved, the cut feels deeper and saltier, despite (or because of) its inexplicable nature. This maddening feeling is what Ryan Murphy both explores and honors in Feud, and boy does he go all in: vicious dialoge, prima donna veterans, stylish costumes, and period-accurate sets. But the real cause for celebration is the empathy he affords to both sides of the feud. There is delicious drama of course, which is what makes this as addictive and watchable as any episode of The Real Housewives, but there is also space for difficult feelings and contradictory ideals. Real archenemies can’t get enough of one another, like Crawford and Davis, and Capote and his swans. It’s that obsession that ultimately makes feuds, and Feud, utterly fascinating.
The women, as intended. It’s clear Murphy and co. exclusively hired divas to rein in the entire enterprise, and it works! Any scene with all the girls together in Capote vs The Swans was a heartstopping sight to see.