Candy

There’s a more pragmatic approach here that still finds room to live in the psychological margins while trying to make sense of a senseless death. There’s a bit of messiness on the way to its ultimate conclusions, but given the nature of why this show exists in the first place, tidiness wouldn’t suit “Candy” anyway.

The strength of Candy rests in this being an old crime that we know very little about. Being first out of the gate works greatly to Candy’s advantage. The series will leave you with more questions than answers, right down to the kicker of a final line.

Candy is intelligently scripted and directed. It also has two phenomenal performances. ... Female rage is an under-explored topic – whether or not it culminates in murder. If Candy concentrates on that, rather than the 41 Lizzie Borden-esque blows, it could add something to the sum of human knowledge, if not exactly happiness.

There is also the reasons why the seemingly put-together Candy managed to snap to begin with. Going back to reconstruct all of that will be interesting to watch, especially given the performances of Biel and Lynskey. ... Candy makes a good case that more true-crime dramas should be about the lead up and the aftermath of an event, not the event itself.

“Candy” becomes a courtroom procedural in the later episodes, but it remains a fascinating psychological character study throughout.

Odd and tense, Candy burnishes Jessica Biel's crime-based limited series credentials, following her star-producer turn in "The Sinner." Here, those two hats come in the service of an understated "whydunit" true crime yarn with all the trappings of a "Dateline" episode, which happily doesn't overstay its welcome at five episodes.

Biel’s stuck playing too many conflicting notes: jealous housewife, traumatized child, Ryan Murphy-level camp queen. And really, it’s that disconnect between the low-wattage horror movie and the John Waters-y camp trappings of the story that keeps Candy from feeling consistent or all that complete.

Candy prefers to examine how the madness of a monotonous life can kill someone spiritually, and it’s most interesting when it locates the humanity that even the most depraved among us possess.

Candy hints at the more sure-footed series—or perhaps, made-for-TV movie—that might have been. ... I found myself consistently wishing that the show had allowed itself just one more inch of latitude—just a little more humor here, a bit more idiosyncratic energy there. In the absence of real tension, Candy has a tendency to spin its wheels—a slightly sour note on an otherwise sweet formula.

All the performances are solid, but "quiet desperation" is a tough mood to maintain over five episodes — and an oddly sleepy one for a drama about a sensational scandal.

It lands firmly in the camp of good, but not great, and for someone who enjoys mystery novels, this series is probably a good weekend binge, a one and done to be watched while cleaning or with friends.

When "Candy" hits its stride in the second and third episodes, it is because Biel and Lynskey make us feel something for these women and the lack of choices they have in life aside from the roles of wife and mother. ... "Candy" stops sticking with us by its end, closing on a resolution that dissolves into nothing. Fortunately this case will be re-opened in a few months, but its squandered potential is still frustrating.

Candy starts strong. ... Once it catches back up with the murder, however, “Candy” starts to show its seams. Having moved past the perhaps easier to adapt stories of how Betty and Candy lived their daily lives, the series’ march toward its unsatisfying end quickly causes it to lose grip on its own narrative and strengths. ... This one ultimately stumbles right when it really counts.

This pairing [Jessica Biel and Melanie Lynskey] of strongly gendered performances would be fine if Candy used them to critique the virgin/harlot dichotomy. But as it stands, this series is a textbook example of how not to write women, reinforcing stereotypes instead of challenging them.

Part of the problem is that Candy is trying to be all the things simultaneously: a gritty true-crime series, a tense courtroom drama and a rich character study. But without committing to any of these ideas, it ends up going nowhere.

If you really like true-crime dramas, you’ll probably like this one. But if you like true stories – ones that create layered versions of real people and use them to illustrate something universal about the human experience – Candy won’t hit the sweet spot.

These characters are outlines with little filler, and the connective tissue between them and the surrounding community is missing. A broader observation about the reverberations and ramifications of this violence doesn’t materialize, and in its absence it creates a kind of anticlimax. ... What Candy lacks is a sense of why this story and why now.