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Photo: FX
The dispute between Truman Capote and his many swans, those socialite women whose friendships he treasured and then stole for what became a novel that would soon be published (and then never be finished), was ultimately a disagreement over the decorum. About what one is allowed to do and discuss in public, about what should remain private. For the author, his work tried to represent the private reality of a wealthy world to which many only dare to aspire; For the swans, it was a crossed line, an airing of things that would never be offered for public consumption.
When Capote published “La Côte Basque 1965,” he could not have known that his friend Babe Paley was dying. As we see in the first scene of “Ice Water in Their Veins,” cancer was not about to derail Babe’s daily life; she remains, even while she receives treatment, committed to wearing exquisite outfits and playing hostess as if nothing were the problem. The appearance of normality, of a beautiful life still lived despite ugly obstacles, was part of the artistry that made her suitable to be one of Capote’s swans.
While we see Babe gracefully weather the treatment, reluctantly seeing it as an opportunity to reconcile with her husband, who continues to shower her with gifts and affection, we also get to see how those other swans are weathering the death of Ann Woodward (Demi Moore). after the publication of an extract from Answered prayers in Don. After attending Ann’s funeral, where her son openly puts her suicide in Truman’s hands, Slim, CZ, Lee and Babe meet for lunch to discuss next steps. Dressed in funereal black and talking about the best way to defeat the merciless serpent that is Truman, the four look like a coven preparing for battle. “It’s insidious,” Lee tells his friends, agreeing with Slim that they should close ranks and watch Truman’s social life (the only life he cared about lately) wither and die.
The lunch is an opportunity for writer Jon Robin Baitz to host a discussion about why Truman’s writings hit such a nerve. There is a series of misogyny in the way he described those women dining at La Côte Basque, the writing brimming with revulsion from him, or so Slim and Lee say. CZ is a little more forgiving, perhaps because she came out largely unscathed. She even disagrees with the social icing that Slim suggests, stating that “it’s cruel. And deliberately small.”
In the published version of Answered prayersa novel that Capote never actually finished (although there have long been rumors of completed manuscripts that were burned, put away, or perhaps read aloud but never published), the author arranges a conversation between his ersatz autobiographical narrator and a companion who tells him question to make it clear whether the novel he is working on is really based on his high society friends:
“I wouldn’t say it’s about them, even though they are in this.”
“So what is it about?”
“Truth as illusion.”
“And the illusion as truth?”
“The first. The second is another proposal.”
“Ice Water in Their Veins” takes that fragment of a written admission (or evasion) and places it squarely at the heart of the divide between Truman and his swans. The writer had worked hard to get to the truth behind the golden superficiality of Babe and his ilk. (All the episodes he wrote about were true, weren’t they?) But that world obviously traffics not in truth but in the appearance, that such observations would always be not only unpleasant but downright clumsy.
While the swans emphasize each other, the betrayal comes not only from the pain caused but from the love on which said betrayal is based. “He misjudged how much we loved him,” Babe says. “Only true love can hurt you like he did.”
Indeed, Truman is clearly unraveling, having so miscalculated the degree to which his art might trump the salacious private details he has aired about his dear friends. Babe doesn’t return his calls or accept his flowers, much less his apology notes. He spends his days in Hollywood at Joanne Carson’s (Molly Ringwald) house, drinking and taking pills while apparently trying to act. He has a small role in the murder mystery spoof written by Neil Simon. Murder by death, and it’s clear that he can barely maintain his composure in a single take. Hallucinatory visions of her swans (dressed in vengeful red) haunt her sweat-soaked performance. His guilt is eating him alive, and he only slowly realizes that he cannot be the tantrum-throwing child he wishes he could be.
And then he throws out all the alcohol in his apartment back east and proceeds to try to win back his friendships, starting with lunch with CZ. “It’s just a book,” she tells him, still not understanding why it’s so important; He is a listener, even a recorder. Everyone knows that. “It’s stupid behavior,” CZ replies. He wonders what has happened to civility, to discretion… to reciprocity! It’s that last word that makes Truman argue that there’s no way an artist like him can be on the same level as his friends… what kind of reciprocity could there be in the midst of such a power imbalance? His lunch, and with it CZ’s invitation to his Thanksgiving in Palm Beach, is interrupted by Lee’s arrival at the restaurant. “Now you’re going to be in trouble,” Truman sadly comments to CZ after receiving Lee’s frozen shoulder. Later, Slim visits CZ and pushes her to disinvite Truman, cleverly cajoling her with pleas to stick together and gifting her with a necklace that Babe had given to Slim.
Which brings us to two portraits of Thanksgiving, apparently Truman’s favorite holiday: an elegant event in Palm Beach, where Gus Van Sant’s honeyed camera pans over magnificent plates of food, abundant flowers and beautiful dresses, and another in Los Angeles, where the shabby-chic decor and silverware (and a cameo by Phyllis Diller) affirm just how far Truman has fallen. Next to him is John, who is aggrieved by this change of plans. Their relationship has become more violent; John beats him once when Truman drinks himself into oblivion after CZ’s cancellation, and then again during Thanksgiving at Joanne’s, where Truman’s cruelty leads John to beat him in front of everyone gathered.
“Vodka hurts more than fists,” Truman jokes while nursing his bloody face.
Unfortunately, his fists end up sending Truman to the hospital where his former lover Jack finds him and takes him home. Jack calls Babe once more, hoping to convince her to grant him absolution. But she is determined. She cannot go back to having two husbands, to once again satisfy Truman’s whims. She hangs up quickly, leaving us to wonder how much longer Truman can keep this up, especially as those closest to him continue to reevaluate what she offered them in exchange for his kindness, his generosity, and her love.
• I almost forgot to mention the confusing hallucination that Truman experiences while at Joanne’s house with his dead mother, with whom he had a troubled relationship. “Truman thought his mother was one of the most beautiful women in the South,” writes Laurence Leamer in Capote’s women, “and it is from Lillie Mae that he developed his obsession with beautiful women, finding their beauty a transcendent blessing.” Played by Murphyverse stand-in Jessica Lange, she taunts a drunken Truman, prompting him to admit that she destroyed Babe and his swan as retaliation for how her rarefied world despised people like Lillie Mae. She is about a monstrous mother who practically encourages her son to commit suicide with pills and alcohol, something she would feel very comfortable with in Capote’s first book. Other voices, other rooms.
• Speaking of which: Jessica Lange does more with a wave of her gloved hand at the end of her brief scene here than many other actors do with their entire body. She’s perfect for this bile-spewing Southern lady, equal parts Capote and Tennessee Williams, so here’s hoping Lange (a producer on the show) makes more appearances in the future.
• “Capote Residence, Petunia speaking” is a perfect summary of the way Truman played fantasy in his everyday life. In this I have to highlight Jon Robin Baitz’s ear for the type of bons mots that Capote so enjoyed and distributed. “The Misnamed First Lady of New York,” for example, is a grandiose, brutal reading of Happy Rockefeller delivered with enthusiasm by Lane’s otherwise quiet Slim, while Truman’s tirade against John: “You know that the dear old dad is just a third… rate a suburban faggot banker who sticks his uncircumcised penis up the glorious ass of America’s greatest living author whom he’s supposed to direct…” – is so risque it’s divine.
• A show like Capote against the swans live or die thanks to the force of its historical accuracy. Or, more specifically, the ability of its numerous design teams to lavishly recreate a bygone world. And my goodness, his costumes (by Lou Eyrich and Leah Katznelson) are to die for. My favorite this episode? Babe’s pale pink dress accented with pearls that he wears while he listens to Jack at his house. In such a set, you can see why Capote had such a low opinion of Jackie Kennedy; In his eyes, her many friends (including Babe and Jackie’s own sister, Lee) had a much more famous style than the famous First Lady. (“Very photogenic, of course,” he wrote in “La Côte Basque,” “but the effect is a little… unrefined, exaggerated”).
• The same goes for the music, courtesy of father-daughter duo Thomas and Julia Newman. (Newman Sr. receives sole credit for the opening titles.) The wildly romantic score that helps us glide from Hollywood to upstate New York, from Manhattan to Palm Beach, feels of a piece with the elegant art direction and impeccable costuming that graces every scene.
• Someone else is now eager to rent Murder by death (available on Prime, apparently!) just to witness Capote’s attempts at “acting”?
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