I came of age in the ’70s, so I do tend to take my lead from time to time from the cultural influences of that era. And yesterday being what it was in the obviously not climate-affected urban sprawl I call home, I was in need of some sort of distraction, and unlike most days I couldn’t even rely on a pro sports event to provide it. As Karen Carpenter once soulfully warbled, rainy days and Mondays always get me down. Those of you who have at least Googled the weather at some point know that yesterday was both in spades. (And if you’re that facile and still don’t know what I’m referencing, Google Karen Carpenter and Rainy Days and Mondays. It’s a sobering reminder as to how talented she was).
So I’m clearly not in the bullseye for LOVE STORY, FX’s latest miniseries from its conquering hero Ryan Murphy, back in the Dana Walden-verse after a more than financially beneficial sojourn with Netflix. In fact, it took me a while to realize this indeed was not a remake of what this child of the ’70s associated with this title, which was the film adaptation of Erich Segal’s seminal novel about a pair of star-crossed kids with Ivy League backgrounds where the “greatest love of all” meets an untimely and tragic end. That was pure fiction, of course. But we actually had a real-life log line that could fit that description, and in this case the novel was one-upped by the fact that both lovers perished young. Those of you who came of age in the ’90s–in other words, the target demographic for any Disney-owned entity with an ad sales force–will recall that in even greater detail that how the ASSOCIATED PRESS’ Alicia Rancilio framed it in the preview piece she authored after it dropped last Thursday:
“Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette,” attempts to fill in the gaps and chronicle their life together. It details a meet cute at a party and culminates in the deaths of the couple and Bessette’s sister Lauren Bessette on July 16, 1999, when a small plane piloted by Kennedy crashed into the Atlantic Ocean…With just a single photo released from their wedding day, much of the relationship between John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette remains shrouded in romanticized legend: the courtship between the fashion publicist and the scion of an already much-mythologized family, the private nuptials and, just three years later, their deaths in a tragic plane crash.
NEWSWEEK’s
Based on Elizabeth Beller’s biography Once Upon a Time: The Captivating Life of Carolyn Bessette‑Kennedy, the nine‑episode season—critics received eight—has drawn largely glowing reviews, alongside sharper skepticism about whether such an intimate story can ever escape the gaze it critiques.
Variety(‘s)…Aramide Tinubu…describes the series as “a sweeping and sexy 1990s‑set tale,” grounded in both characters’ inner lives…(and) praises… for its structure and emotional clarity, noting that it “opens at the end(“)…Tinubu also highlights the show’s examination of marriage and misogyny, drawing direct parallels between Carolyn’s experience and those of Princess Diana and Meghan Markle.
The Hollywood Reporter(‘s)…Angie Han frames Love Story as a contemporary fairy tale, casting John as “America’s son”—a prince groomed for destiny—and Carolyn as a “normie” whose charisma and style elevate her at work. On those terms, Han calls the series “a solid, if not resounding, success,” praising its embrace of classic romantic tropes while grounding the dazzling couple in gritty reality.
The Guardian(‘s) Lucy Mangan delivers a sharply negative review in The Guardian, calling Love Story “punishingly boring” and arguing that while the Kennedys remain a uniquely American obsession, the series stretches inherently dramatic material into “an endless, drab slog.” Mangan criticizes the pacing, dialogue and performances, conceding that Sarah Pidgeon does a lot with very little but arguing the script drains the story of momentum.
I’m gonna go out on a limb and suggest Tinubu and Han are more likely children of the ’90s like Bessette and Kennedy. What I’ve seen so far is little more than an homage to shallowness–incredibly good-looking and well-heeled Manhattanites who overachieve by day and underachieve at night with incredibly poor choices in their personal lives. Bessette was a rising star at Calvin Klein responsible for casting underwear models and occasionally sleeping with candidates whether or not they were fully in the heterosexual camp, slinking her way through black-tie parties and upscale clubs in LBDs that highlight her undeniable curves. Kennedy is dating a literal mermaid in 80s icon Daryl Hannah, a relationship that seems to have a foundation based on little more than his photogenic they are for paparazzi. Hannah is years removed from her starring roles and dorm poster days; John, Jr. is at a point where he’s dabbling in media for sh-ts and giggles just when he gets the brainstorm to start a print magazine at just about the time when the world is discovering the internet. Amd meither his career or love choices is meeting with support from his mom Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, who is portrayed as an over-the-top judgmental whiner by Naomi Watts.
I’m willing to concede that the physical resemblances to their roles that Sarah Pidgeon and Paul Anthony Kelly bring to the table score a few points–heck, Kelly even has channeled and gets to show off his impressive pecs and considerable chest hair. But no such gravitas is warranted in how Watts portrays what the show calls “America’s Widow”. Shrounded in scarves that exaggerate Onassis’ fashion choices that only become more necessary as the cancer that eventually claims her life progresses, Watts is saddled with inexplicably vapid dialogue, such as the scenes where she pulls out her cat claws and reminds her son that “I don’t know who the person is who will love you for who you are, but I know who she isn’t” and where she dredges up the soundtrack to the Broadway show CAMELOT and pretends to dance as she and JFK did at his inaugural ball, thus resulting in his presidency being given that name as well. It’s downright uncomfortable to watch, and not merely because it’s the most tragic arc of these episodes.
And if you think I’m being overly harsh, witness the reactions that Rancilio brought to light:
Jack Schlossberg, Kennedy’s nephew, spoke out against the series last year, saying it was profiting off his family “in a grotesque way” accusing executive producer Ryan Murphy of “making millions” off Kennedy’s legacy…Schlossberg, now running for Congress in New York, took to social media to share memories of his uncle…Murphy retaliated on California Gov. Gavin Newsom’s podcast, saying it was an “odd choice to be mad about your relative that you really don’t remember.”
Given that Murphy is riding a relative hot streak of late with the outsized success of ALL’S FAIR–a fact I’m still trying to wrap my arms around--he can certainly get into the octagon with anyone who might take issue with his creative choices. LOVE STORY is neither the pure camp that show was or the de facto documentary that their PEOPLE VS. O.J. SIMPSON effort on AMERICAN CRIME STORY was–a deep dive into a ’90s storyline that produced plenty of awards. Perhaps the balance of the series might actually define it one way or the other, but I can’t promise I’m going to be around to find out.
LOVE STORY may very well resonate the kind of audience that bought into Kim Kardashian as a dramatic lead and if that’s the case we’ll likely be seeing some sort of story later this week from the FX PR machine. If it happens to play as well as I seem to think it will, we’ll get literal crickets, since transparency and anything Hulu tend to be mutually exclusive concepts. Should it exceed those very modest expectations, I’ll be happy for all involved but I won’t apologize for my take. Because as any true fan of anything called LOVE STORY will attest, love means never having to say you’re sorry.
Until next time…
