The following is a spoiler-free review of all eight episodes of Feud: Capote vs. the Swans, which premieres on FX at 10 p.m. on Wednesday, January 31 and streams on Hulu the following day.
Truman Capote’s (Tom Hollander) knack for dazzling showmanship is given pride of place less than halfway into the first episode of Feud: Capote vs. the Swans, quickly signaling why the acclaimed (and troubled) writer is at the center of the long-awaited second edition of a Ryan Murphy-produced anthology about infamous real-life spats. The choice of noirish black and white for Truman’s bombastic retelling of the night Ann Woodward (Demi Moore) shot her husband immediately adds visual texture to the premiere and casts doubts on his accusations, which lead to the author’s falling out with the “swans” of the title – his glamorous clique of socialites and benefactors. When the secrets they’ve spilled over liquid lunches become the basis for a thinly veiled magazine exposé, the battle of wills that follows proves to be heartbreaking, tantalizing, and a worthy successor to 2017’s Feud: Bette and Joan.
Feud depicts Capote’s mid-century triumphs and exile from high society in a crisscrossing timeline that’s as much about petty grievances, gossip, and celebrity as it is about the crushing weight of conjuring an encore to a masterpiece. Not only is the nonlinear approach made apparent from the very first episode, but so are the different ways showrunner Jon Robin Baitz and director Gus Van Sant frame the various rumors and confidences Capote channeled into his ultimately unfinished novel Answered Prayers. Whether to an audience of one, a dining table of distinguished guests, or a late-night talk show watched by millions, Baitz and Van Sant’s Truman knows facts can turn a fabulous anecdote into a bore. Perspective is everything in Capote vs. the Swans, and beneath the New York elite’s glossy veneer are bloodstained sheets and dead husbands perfect for witty yarns.
Bouncing between pre- and post-friendship rupture allows Baitz to emphasize how much Capote had to lose when Esquire published “La Côte Basque, 1965” in 1975. The success of Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood – two very different books – and their subsequent film adaptations gave Capote his fame, ensuring a highly anticipated follow-up. And so Feud intrinsically links Truman’s betrayal of his beautiful and rich friends to an all-consuming writer's block. Whenever someone asks how the novel is going, Hollander captures reassurance and deflection with subtle undertones of fear and self-loathing that add to this compelling, complex compound. Truman’s adherence to the old saw “write what you know” might baffle the women who confided in him, but his prolonged creative inertia makes for a strong motive.
Considering Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Oscar-winning turn in Capote, Hollander has big shoes to fill; playing a singular figure who made as many public appearances as Capote adds to the comparison peril. His voice was also so distinct that any attempt to recreate it can easily to fall into Droopy Dog caricature, but Hollander disappears into the cadence without falling prey to a cheesy impression. Instead, he hits the vocal register, mannerisms (such as how often he touches his face), and overall demeanor make you forget it’s the erstwhile Lord Cutler Beckett underneath the sartorial armor of sunglasses, hats, and knitwear. Hollander is also equipped to play varying levels of drunk and sober, hurl Truman’s cruelest insults, flirt up a storm, and show rare flickers of vulnerability.
His scene partners are equally adept at tackling a spectrum of loathing and lapping it up, letting their masks slip to show how “La Côte Basque, 1965” hit like a torpedo. Moore swings between fragility and fury as Ann, who avoided a murder charge by saying she thought an intruder had entered the house, but she cannot escape Truman’s laser-like focus – or the casual cruelty of the swans. Not everyone gets invited to the party, and Ann is a stark example of the horrors of being iced out and a reminder that high-school hierarchies linger long into adulthood.
Naomi Watts rules the flock as the grande dame of the swans, Barbara “Babe” Paley. Hers is a picture-perfect life that is anything but, and the standout moments arrive when the cracks are at their largest. The fourth episode features some truly dynamite moments between Watts and the late Treat Williams as Babe’s philandering husband, Bill. Displaying dueling emotions is a specialty of the series, and this is no clearer than in the charm and anger oozing from Bill’s pores – Feud marks Williams’ last performance, making it even more bittersweet.
One guarantee from any Murphy series is a stacked cast ready to play. Diane Lane and Calista Flockhart jostle for the title of meanest swan as Slim Keith and Lee Radziwill, whereas Chloë Sevigny takes on C.Z. Guest, the sympathetic friend who’s pulled in different directions – and all three relishes the spaces between these archetypes. As Truman’s long-suffering partner Jack, Joe Mantello is brimming with exhaustion but is never one-note in attempting to convince the man he loves to put down his cocktail and pick up a pen. Long-term relationships cut to the core of why Truman is so easy to love and loathe.
The costumes are brilliant, a crucial component considering the central figure’s extravagant taste and the swans’ permanent place on best-dressed lists. Multiple Emmy-winner and frequent Murphy collaborator Lou Eyrich and co-costume designers Leah Katznelson and Rudy Mance have outdone themselves, and the swans’ gowns for Truman’s legendary Black and White Ball get an added touch of glamor from fashion designer Zac Posen. Academy Award-nominated production designer Mark Ricker ensures that each lavish set is Architectural Digest-ready, because that’s how these women lived.
“The Original Housewives” reads the tagline, and it is impossible not to think of Bravo’s monster-smash franchise while watching Capote vs. the Swans. Acknowledging this link and the thirst for gossip and friends-turned-enemies dynamics demonstrates that audiences – whether they subscriber to a cable provider, streaming service, or a men’s magazine – have always enjoyed watching betrayal play out on a national stage. Feud doesn’t settle for pedestrian techniques, and the different visual choices (Van Sant directs six of eight episodes) enhance the material further. Sometimes the surreal sequences showcasing Truman’s dependency on alcohol and prescription medication veer into too-on-the-nose territory (ditto, the myriad swan references), yet Capote vs. the Swans remains a sly drama about being an outsider who’s been welcomed, celebrated, and rejected by the ultimate insiders. The new Feud rarely stumbles in showcasing the bitter battle at its heart and the power of the pen – or typewriter.
