FEUD

Easily the best new series of 2017 so far, Feud will prove especially appealing to fans of old Hollywood and smart, layered storytelling.

Part of the intoxicating magic of Feud is the fierce relish with which Sarandon and Lange circle each other warily, clash, back off, then clash again. It is a mesmerizing, perfectly executed dance--a bitter tango staged somewhere near the intersection of "Sunset Boulevard" and the "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." The brittle dialogue rips along with waspish intensity, and adding to the storytelling wizardry is an outstanding supporting cast.

Both Lange and Sarandon are outstanding, so good that it may cross your mind that both should win an Emmy.

In certain episodes and scenes, Feud feels like Murphy’s masterwork, combining his fervor for showmanship and irony with his insistence on of-the-moment relevance.

Full of joy, humor, brilliant writing and performances, and a deep unabiding love for what really makes Hollywood great--the women.

Feud doesn't disappoint in its vivid depiction of this rivalry for the ages. [6-19 Mar 2017, p.20]

Just as he did in his O.J. Simpson miniseries, Murphy has cast his show to perfection. After a few minutes, it's nearly impossible to remember that Jessica Lange (as Crawford) and Susan Sarandon (as Davis) ever had lives apart from the women they're playing.

Feud: Bette and Joan is delicious fare, a mix of catty gossip and vile manipulation, a look at the dark underbelly of celebrity culture and the desperation that comes with aging out of the limelight.

Bette and Joan gives Lange and Sarandon a sublime showcase from the first moment they hit their marks.

Feud ultimately finds its strongest moments in the scenes when these incredibly complicated women speak to each other on these topics [age and gender]. This is not just because those scenes often feature some of the snappiest dialogue of the series, but because they push the show out of a tired acknowledgement that being a lady in Hollywood sucks and into real character interaction that acknowledges the immense capacity women have for self-recrimination and self-destruction.

Murphy gives his eight-part series a lush old Hollywood look and lets both Lange and Sarandon have fun recreating the quirks that made the actresses so memorable. While Sarandon is a dead ringer for Davis, Lange has to work harder to find the outsized Crawford. Both are ably abetted by a host of actors as recognizable names.

Both Sarandon and Lange shine in the crucible of competition too. Sarandon seems better cast, sharing Davis' enviable bone structure and her ability to exhale a one-liner like cigarette smoke. And yet it's Lange who'll make you swoon.

Feud, with blunt writing but exquisite performances, recreates that dish, critiques it and eats it with relish.

Murphy’s dramatization doesn’t feel like a shortchanged, faithless endeavor. The complete opposite is the case: his passion and pain for these women bleeds from the screen, and it’s only in the little moments in between that Feud‘s nitpicky shortcomings can be found.

Feud's focus seldom wavers from Lange and Sarandon, and rightly so. Neither woman really looks or sounds much like the person she’s playing, but that doesn’t matter: You accept the Davis and Crawford you’re seeing.

Feud gives you the glamour and grit of old Hollywood and the joy of watching Sarandon and Lange duke it out in their best roles in years. The supporting cast--Tucci, Molina and Davis--is sublime.

This is just pure camp. This is what Murphy does best. Get out the popcorn.

Feud edges at times to camp but always veers back into meatier fare.

Subtext is an Achilles’ heel that The People V. O.J. Simpson finally healed for Murphy, and though Bette And Joan doesn’t represent a full recovery, it lands some clever jabs at the status quo through depictions of the stars’ insecurities and beauty regimens.

Feud has its flaws--a jokey song cue here, blunt exposition there. But Murphy lets the contradictions sizzle: he knows that schlock can double as great art; that self-loathing can work both as a goad to ambition and as an emotional crippler.

Feud’s scripts and direction relish every ounce of drama they can squeeze out of their source material, but the show wouldn’t be half as captivating without Sarandon and Lange. They both embrace the opportunity to capture the essence of these screen sirens with as much compassion as digging into the most vulnerable parts of someone’s life could possibly allow, before unleashing Bette and Joan’s trademark acidic wit.

Its deft and satisfying first few episodes should please both the voyeurs and the feminists, and more importantly highlight how the two groups can overlap.

As a saga about how Hollywood builds up idols and then throws them aside, Feud: Bette and Joan is no "Sunset Boulevard." But it's a delicious cocktail of nostalgia, gossip and star power.

Feud is also impeccably and lavishly appointed, from the physical replication of the era to the wonderfully florid musical score (by Mac Quayle) and Hitchcock-ian main titles.

Fun and clever, with serious things to say about sexism and ageism.

Fans of “Hollywood Babylon” and the city’s unending gossip will no doubt find plenty to love in FEUD, but it’s in its rambunctious and often quite critical depiction of La La Land and the deeply troubling things that it asks of women (and, occasionally, men) that the series finds its melodious yet unpredictable rhythm.

For all the campy craziness of Feud its message is one about the wrong people being mad at each other--a formulation with bottomless appeal and no end of examples.

Bette and Joan isn’t as deep or all-encompassing as “The People v. O.J. Simpson,” but it’s addictive all the same.

It's very funny at times. It balances on the edge of comedy/drama and sheer campiness--reflecting the lives of Davis and Crawford. But it is not the sort of over-the-top, unintentionally hilarious portrayal that the 1981 Crawford film biography "Mommie Dearest" became.

As much soapy fun as Bette and Joan has with the pair's over-the-top efforts to one-up each other, it's also a smartly told tale of how sexism, ageism, and the old studio system helped turn two Oscar-winning actresses into bitter enemies.

Mesmerizing, impressive, and flawed.

It’s big and it’s catty, but it’s also smart and elegant, with the old Hollywood setting toning down some of Murphy’s more scattershot creative impulses.

For all the camp you might expect from a project like this, the whole thing plays out with remarkable dignity.

The diva devotee's undeniable passion for the material, plus a cast of almost gratuitous distinction, helps cover for a narrative that's sometimes more juicy than weighty.

Bette and Joan is at its canniest when contrasting Bette and Joan's respective vanities, understanding that Bette's has aged better than Joan's, and that Joan was misguidedly devising, in Baby Jane, the rules that would enable her own upstaging.

Lange and Sarandon pay him [Ryan Murphy] back with performances so powerful, they could light up a row of Hollywood marquees. In fact, the two shine so brightly at times that we can hardly see all the other flaws.

What grips you and holds you are the marvelous performances by huge stars of today playing huge stars of yester-year.

Watching multiple episodes of Feud makes it clear that it's a solid two-hour movie stretched to an eight-episode series, not due to depth but redundancy. There are elements here that work, but also moments that feel downright mean-spirited.

Feud is not nearly campy enough.

Lange is always interesting, but she’s only occasionally convincing here as Crawford. The voice is too high, for one thing. Sarandon fares better, as much good as that does with such a lousy script.

There’s a juicy, entertaining and still-timely Hollywood story hidden under the show’s typically Murphian excesses.

The rise of the new TV anthology, in which the unit of measure is the season rather than the episode, could encourage filmmakers to pore over the cultural history of Hollywood in granular detail. Murphy’s Feud deserves credit for getting there first, but that’s about it.