Feud: Capote vs. the Swans review: Naomi Watts is an answered prayer

No one finds writers more fascinating than other writers, which may be why Truman Capote — who became a global sensation with his 1966 “non-fiction novel” In Cold Blood — has been the subject of so many movies, plays, and documentaries. The most recent, 2019’s The Capote Tapes, chronicles the author and bon vivant’s failed attempt to finish Answered Prayers, his masterpiece-in-waiting chronicling the dirty secrets of New York high society.

The second season of Ryan Murphy’s Feud offers a starry, dramatic retelling of this turbulent period in Capote’s life, including the public betrayal of Manhattan’s most powerful women, which kickstarted his downfall. Like Truman himself, Capote vs. the Swans attempts to capture everything about the lofty world he lived in — a near-impossible task, as the author learned — and the storytelling is ultimately supplanted by the spectacle of watching the drama’s dazzling ensemble, led by an Emmy-worthy Naomi Watts.

Adapted from Laurence Leamer’s book Capote’s Women by playwright Jon Robin Baitz, Feud begins on a grim New York afternoon in 1968. Truman Capote (The White Lotus’ Tom Hollander) hurries to the sprawling apartment of his close friend Babe Paley (Watts). She’s distraught after discovering her husband, TV exec Bill Paley (the late, forever great Treat Williams), in yet another flagrant indiscretion — this time with the Governor’s wife (Rebecca Creskoff). “That fat-ankled harridan,” sneers Capote in his nasal drawl. He comforts, commiserates, and counsels, before handing Babe a Valium and curling up with her as she takes a medicated nap.

Seven years later, Capote will reveal the whole sordid story in an excerpt of Answered Prayers, prompting a mortified Babe and her powerful circle of friends — Slim Keith (Diane Lane), Lee Radziwill (Calista Flockhart), and C.Z. Guest (Chloë Sevigny) — to exile him from their rarefied world. Over the course of its eight-episode season, Feud alternates between timelines as it explores Capote’s rise to literary fame and society stature after In Cold Blood to his long, agonizing, self-imposed demise that began with the Answered Prayers excerpt in 1975.

“I have to tell you something. I think we’re going to be close friends,” Capote informs Babe after their chance meeting in 1955. He was right. A raconteur, relentless gossip, and gifted listener, Truman Capote proved to be an ideal lunch companion for Babe and her pedigreed friends, most of whom felt ignored by their high-powered husbands. For Babe, Slim, C.Z., and Lee, Capote’s attention was seductive to the point of addictive; even when he disappointed his “Swans,” as he called them, he could always win them over once again. Despite Capote’s penchant for sharing revealing stories about the moneyed class — including accusing socialite Ann Woodward (Demi Moore) of murdering her wealthy husband — the Swans somehow believed their secrets were safe.

Feud reiterates the coterie’s dysfunctional dynamic in multiple ways, most effectively in “Masquerade 1966.” Written by Baitz and shot in black-and-white by Gus Van Sant (who directs most of the series), the third episode conflates two major events in Capote’s life that year: Albert and David Maysles’ documentary With Love from Truman, and the author’s much ballyhooed Black and White Ball. 

Though none of the women appear in the real documentary, Feud makes effective use of the verité conceit to reveal the women behind the Swan façade — and Truman’s pivotal place in their world. The cameras lurk as he comforts Babe after a run-in with her husband’s “latest piece of East-side ass"; advises C.Z. when her husband’s finances collapse; and assuages Slim’s anger when she learns her ex-husband and his new wife scored a coveted invite to his party. Wheedling, flattering, coddling, and charming, Capote leads every woman to believe that she, in fact, will earn the title of Guest of Honor at his Black and White Ball. (Fifty-eight-year-old spoiler alert: They do not.)

Of course, Truman finally went too far, and Feud makes some effort, though not enough, to address the key question: Why? “Was I the only one who read all the disgust in his story?” fumes Babe to her friends. “He finds us disgusting!” Though the author did seem truly enamored of Babe — “Babe Paley had only one fault. She was perfect,” he famously said — she also represented the very society that rejected his mother, Lillie Mae Faulk, who took her own life when Truman was 30. “You did it all for me,” purrs Lillie Mae, played with elegant contempt by Jessica Lange, in one of her many visits to her son from beyond the grave. “You avenged me, of course.”

Capote’s friendship with Babe — and the deep pain that drove him to destroy it — is the crux of Feud’s story, but Baitz indulges in too many digressions about his protagonist’s admittedly fascinating life in the ‘70s. Playing an eccentric multimillionaire in Neil Simon’s spoof Murder By Death; befriending Kerry O’Shea (Ella Beatty), daughter of his abusive lover (Russell Tovey), and helping her become a model; spending an afternoon debating the meaning and purpose of his writing with fellow queer author James Baldwin (Chris Chalk).

“You’ve gotta get a hold of this booze thing, man!” scolds Baldwin. It’s a sentiment we hear time and again in the second half of the season from those still in Capote’s circle: C.Z., his longtime partner Jack Dunphy (Joe Mantello), his LA-based friend Joanne Carson (Molly Ringwald), who often let the author stay at her home. The cycle — drink, hit rock bottom, dry out, vow to finish Answered Prayers, repeat — wears on those who love Truman and those watching at home. “Enough with the dramas, please,” urges his lawyer (Michael Harrah). “Aren’t you tired?”

But too much drama is never enough for Feud, especially when Baitz and company have assembled a phalanx of such formidable divas for its ensemble. Beautifully bewigged (courtesy of wig designer Chris Clark) and draped in chic late-20th-century looks (courtesy of costume designer Lou Eyrich), the women of Swans are ceaselessly watchable, even when the story flags. Moore brings a kind of haunted panic to Ann Woodward, whose exposure in the Answered Prayers excerpt leads to tragedy, and Lane is impeccably icy as Slim, the imposing mastermind of Capote’s social banishment.

Watts, her exquisite features haloed by a brunette bouffant, is Feud’s steely soul. As Babe, a woman who places upon herself the burden of perfection, the actress finds the broken heart beneath her character’s aloof allure. We feel the gravity of Truman’s betrayal, which robs her of the only other person who understands how lonely it can be at the center of it all.

As Capote, Hollander gets it all right — the nasal drawl, the buttery, simpering laugh, the conspiratorial charm that invites confession. But the performance never feels like an impression, even when the actor recreates notorious moments in the author’s downfall, including his nearly incoherent 1978 appearance on Stanley Siegel’s talk show. Hollander captures the ineffable charisma Capote turned on for the crowds, but also the fear and insecurity that rose to torment him in solitude. “Why? Why am I doing this to myself?” he wails drunkenly after missing yet another deadline in 1975. “Maybe I lost everything that made me Truman Capote.” In lieu of an answer, Feud: Capote vs. the Swans reminds us that Capote contained multitudes, which can never truly be lost. Grade: B-

Feud: Capote vs. the Swans premieres Wednesday, Jan. 31, at 10 p.m. ET/PT on FX.

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