Netflix subverts typical true crime with 'May December'
In the ever-evolving media landscape, there is one genre that consistently manages to captivate: true crime. Strangely, the thrill of being a spectator to some of the darkest corners of humanity has intrigued so many people.
Netflix has especially beat this genre to death, releasing documentaries like "Tiger King" and scripted projects like "Dahmer — Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story," both of which have cultivated massive audiences.
Though, critics have rightfully pointed out some issues with this material, specifically regarding the ethics behind platforming and immortalizing individuals who commit violent crimes.
"May December" is Netflix's newest entry to the true crime genre — though, from the outset, it's difficult to tell. From its innocuous thumbnail on the Netflix homepage to the sweet-sounding title, it immediately stands out amongst its genre contemporaries.
The movie begins in the middle of a seemingly mundane barbeque, featuring children running around while their parents engage in the smallest of talk. It isn't until the hostess Gracie (Julianne Moore) opens the fridge, that "May December" serves up its first surprise.
With the music crescendoing in the background, viewers are led to believe there's some earth-shattering twist. The discovery of a dead body wouldn't feel out of place. In reality, it's far less interesting — as Gracie proclaims, they might not have enough hot dogs.
For the most part, "May December" keeps its cards close to its chest, but here, it reveals one of its biggest tricks. The movie masterfully plays with viewers' expectations at every turn, and just when you think you've gotten a hold of things, it pulls another rabbit out of its hat.
After the opening, the audience is introduced to Elizabeth (Natalie Portman), an actress set to portray Gracie in an upcoming movie. It's not immediately clear why Gracie is important enough to have a movie made about her until it's casually revealed in a conversation that decades ago, she began a relationship with her current husband, Joe (Charles Melton), when he was 13 and she was 36.
Originally a nationwide story that culminated in Gracie's conviction and subsequent incarceration, the crime is now being turned into entertainment.
Unlike typical true crime narratives that often paint subjects sympathetically or craft some sort of story out of thin air, "May December" cuts right to the chase, conveying just how terrifying people can be.
The film's brutal honesty and disturbing undertones are loosely inspired by the real-life case of Mary Kay Letourneau, a sex offender and former teacher who initiated a relationship with one of her students in the 90s. Most of the characters in the movie brush aside this incident, mirroring how, at the time, the case was treated as mere gossip in tabloids.
The movie's intrigue lies in the character of Elizabeth, who represents the questionable ethics of the media and the public. Initially an observer of Gracie and Joe's life, she gradually becomes more involved, obsessively searching for an inciting incident to rationalize Gracie's behavior throughout the runtime.
She develops theories about Gracie's childhood and downplays some of her abuse instead of facing the glaring truth. Along the way, Elizabeth loses track of herself, becoming desensitized to the crime and inadvertently disrupting the lives of innocent people, ultimately enabling some of Gracie's behavior.
Portman gives an amazing performance, reminiscent of "Black Swan," portraying an unstable artist, tortured by a need for control and power. "May December" questions the worth of this dedication, especially if the end product isn't valuable, and more importantly, if it comes at the expense of others.
Moore, a frequent collaborator of director Todd Haynes, is surprisingly terrifying as Gracie, showcasing a new facet of her acting prowess decades into her illustrious career. The audience is never asked to sympathize with her, something other true crime projects might attempt for the sake of a digestible story.
Instead, through the thin veil of confidence and beauty her character exudes, barely hiding her deep-rooted evil and manipulation, Moore conveys why people consistently overlook abuse — it's simply easier to pretend it doesn't exist.
While veterans Moore and Portman will probably draw in most viewers, the true standout of "May December" is Melton. Primarily known for teen dramas like "Riverdale" and "American Horror Story," this marks Melton's first foray into a substantial dramatic role, and he seizes the opportunity.
The film makes it a point to criticize the pitfalls of the true crime genre, but through the character of Joe, it truly differentiates itself.
Joe, like most victims within true crime narratives, initially assumes a supporting role, watching from the sidelines as Elizabeth and Gracie enter into a complex power struggle.
For a while, it seems like "May December" is conforming to this trope, until the narrative takes a turn in the third act, placing the primary focus on Joe. This shift reshapes the movie, emphasizing the character's personal growth and the dissolution of his and Gracie's abusive relationship. As Joe explains to Elizabeth in a pivotal scene, he's more than his story.
Melton brilliantly captures Joe's metamorphosis throughout the movie, specifically through his body language. Joe's nuances, from his anxiety to his timidity, are effectively communicated through his slouched posture to his awkward stutter. Despite being 30 years old, Melton projects the image of a child stunted by abuse.
For anyone looking to understand why bad people do bad things, "May December" doesn't offer any easy answers, mainly because there aren't any. Even if there was, the movie questions if it's even right to tell an abuser's story.
Instead, "May December" offers a thoughtful dissection of the true crime genre and the toxicity of tabloid culture. It takes a unique approach by shedding light on the frequent neglect of victims and the core issue of abuse, often overlooked by the genre's reliance on shock and theatrics.
