Couch Critic // What are the limits of creative non-fiction?

Although the fascination with true crime dates back long before the 21st century, it appears that in the last 15 years, true crime has exploded as a defining genre in American media, including films, television shows, and the increasingly crowded field of true crime -Podcasts has infiltrated. As his popularity has increased, so have the controversies surrounding him.

The most common criticism of true crime is arguably its unethical nature. Many believe that true crime dramatizes real-life tragedies and turns victims into sources of entertainment. Other critics say true crime stories tend to glorify criminals, contributing to our culture’s sick fascination with violent behavior. However, the main criticism I will examine today is the ethical portrayal of true crime. Much true crime media prioritizes dramatic storytelling over accuracy, highlighting the age-old dilemma of balancing entertainment and truth. This raises the question: What are the limits of creative non-fiction?

For this commentary, I will distinguish between true crime and true crime dramas. I define true crime media as the exploration of real crimes, the details of crimes, the psychology of perpetrators, and the impact on victims through a vessel that seeks to provide facts. This ship could be a documentary like Surviving R. Kelly or Tiger King. Although there is an innate entertainment value in these examples, the documentary is ultimately based on facts and aims to accurately represent those facts using primary sources such as interviews, surveillance footage, court documents and site visits.

The difference between true crime dramas is that they handle the facts poorly. True crime dramas are dramatic reenactments of real crimes in which actors portray both victims and perpetrators. The problem arises when they take great creative liberties and mix factual elements with fictionalized storytelling. The goal of evoking an emotional response from the audience comes at the expense of an accurate depiction of events, and there is no better example of this problem than Netflix’s number 1 series in the US, Ryan Murphy’s, “Monster: The Story of Lyle and Erik Menendez.”

“Monsters” is based on the 1989 murders of Kitty and José Menendez, committed by their sons Lyle and Erik. The show begins with the parents’ funeral and, through non-linear storytelling, takes the audience back and forth between the weeks leading up to the murders, the ensuing panic and the boys’ months in prison, and ends with the stormy trial they are asked to face for the first murder degree. Due to the complexity of the case, “Monsters” explores male sexual abuse and incest, with the boys accusing their father of sadistically and systematically abusing them, which is the main defense of their case.

“Monsters” is full of inaccuracies presented as creative liberties, some with more serious consequences than others. In episode three: “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” The brothers navigate life in prison and struggle with issues like Erik’s eating disorder and Lyle’s fixation with his hairpiece, all coupled with comedic banter that adds a layer of humor to their shared experiences . Although the boys’ struggles portrayed in the show were accurate, The two were separated immediately upon arrival at the prison. turning their witty, brotherly exchange into a fictional product. In my opinion, this is an acceptable use of creative license because it speeds up the storytelling while adding a much-needed lighthearted sequence. Ultimately, this choice enhances the show while preserving the essential facts of the case.

Unfortunately, this argument cannot be made for much of the fictionalized aspects.

By far the most controversial aspect of the series is the biased characterization of the brothers. From episode one, Murphy and actor Nicholas Chavez star Lyle as an extremely hot-tempered, manic drug user. In contrast, Erik, played by Cooper Koch, is docile and gentle. heavily implied to be gay. Both characterizations were vigorously denied by the brothers and their families back in the ’90s and in response to the show today.

The most damaging exaggeration, however, is the explicit references to an incestuous relationship between Erik and Lyle.

The show includes more than one shared kiss, countless instances of intense physical contact, and an overtly romantic dance between the two at a party. Both brothers testified under oath that Additionally, Lyle abused Erik when Lyle was eight years old in response to the sexual trauma inflicted on him by his fatherFurthermore, their relationship never became sexual.

A major problem with the incest claims is that they are part of a broader set of theories that attempt to explain her parents’ murders. These theories suggest that the boys were in love and murdered their parents in order to freely pursue their relationship, thus disproving the sexual abuse allegations against their father. It goes without saying that these unfounded claims reach an audience of millions while the brothers sit in a prison cell unable to defend themselves.

Murphy argues that these inclusions were intentionally controversial, an attempt to show the case from multiple perspectives to help the audience understand the mindset of the jury that ultimately found the brothers guilty.

However, this excuse is shaken when the brothers’ intimacy in the series is completely missing from the trials depicted and in the press coverage and is also not mentioned in conversations with the judiciary. It’s clear that the purpose of this embellishment, among many others mentioned, was to give the show more complicated characters. Ultimately, like most of the show’s decisions, it was about making the show more entertaining.

What I just analyzed was just one of the many inventions presented on the show. While I understand and recommend wanting to offer as many perspectives as possible, this becomes problematic when those perspectives are not supported.

So the question remains: Where do we draw the line in creative nonfiction? I answer this question with another question: At what point does artistic expression compromise the subjects involved? As I said, some creative freedom is necessary for narrative flow. But it becomes unethical when these freedoms distort individuals’ lived experiences.

Ethical storytelling is not an easy task and is rarely executed perfectly. But when you commit to a true crime drama, you at least commit to respecting the real-world consequences of the narrative. Unfortunately, many true crime stories fail to do this at all. “Monsters” is no exception.