The Subversive Gayness Of Capote Vs The Swans

Capote's Women: 'Feud 2' Traces A True Story Of Friendship & Betrayal

Feud: Capote vs The Swans isn’t the feel-good, sugar-coated, all’s well in the end, gay television storyline we’ve been spoon-fed so far, writes Joshua Muyiwa

AMERICAN television writer, director and producer Ryan Murphy’s anthology drama series Feud microscopically examines storied personal rivalries from the past that created waves within their own small but significant, shiny universes. In the first one, Feud: Bette and Joan, the eternal camp divas and Hollywood icons — Bette Davis and Joan Crawford — are constantly nipping at each other’s heels during the making of their horror-thriller What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

In a follow-up to that first instalment, arriving seven years later, Feud: Capote vs The Swans dissects the discord between American writer Truman Capote and a coterie of socially powerful women from New York’s upper crust. Over these eight episodes (based on Laurence Leamer’s bestselling book Capote’s Women), we are led into the gilded cages of Capote’s closest female friends. Here, we witness their clever dispensation of cruelties and caustic barbs that dictate the strict order of who’s in and who’s out in high society. We understand that to move with the “in crowd” is to dance on a razor’s edge; the rules are ancient and strict, but remain unspoken.

Much like the first outing of this anthology series, being a fly-on-the-wall to the cold-blooded, cut-throat conversations of these classy ladies in Feud: Capote vs The Swans is rich and rewarding. But stick around them long enough, and the insecurities that craft those clever comments begin to surface and show. Instead of joining the angry mob with pitchforks and torches to eat the rich, we begin to see their sadness, we turn sensitive to their situations, we sympathise with these perfect lives. We see that Truman’s name for these OG Ladies Who Lunch — “the swans” — is fitting, because much like the elegant birds, they too furiously paddle below the waterline while looking cool, calm and collected above it. The true tragedy revealed in Feud: Capote vs The Swans isn’t that these women and gay men turn(ed) on each other. It is that the slice of the power pie left over for the countless categories of the non-straight men in our world is so very small that the rest have to scramble for the scraps.

While this thread holds the series, it isn’t enough. The storytelling in the series moves too quickly (within each episode) — from Capote turning his acidic, truth-telling pen towards them in an excerpt from his unfinished book Answered Prayers, to the time before this, where he was the doted-over darling of this circle of fierce females and the sometimes in-between. In one scene, Capote is being the priest to whom these ladies confess their scandalous secrets. In the next, we wallow with the alcohol-soaked version of the writer sobbing on the sidelines of high society shindigs.

But the glue that holds all of the episodes together is the little details of being these people so finely experienced and executed by each of the actors in this stellar ensemble. Naomi Watts as Babe Paley — the Vogue fashion editor turned socialite is the leader of these lunching ladies — nails down pretty and pretty breakable. The other swans are Diane Lane as Slim Keith — the ex-wife of Hollywood director Howard Hawks — who weaponises perfect bitterness to hold her grudge against Capote; Chloë Sevigny as CZ Guest — a legendary gardener and a muse to artists like Salvador Dalí, Andy Warhol, and Diego Rivera — plays the unsure cat on the fence to the T; and Calista Flockhart as Lee Radziwill — sister to the former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis — is striking, severe and spits venom like a cobra.

The standout in this star cast though, is Tom Hollander as Truman Capote. (We’ve previously seen Hollander as the charming ringleader of the gays trying to kill Jennifer Coolidge’s Tanya McQuoid in The White Lotus.) In our contemporary television culture (perhaps, reflective of our societies?) the gay subject’s story is framed within the language of rights and representation. The gay subject isn’t written with complexity or conflict, rather they conform to our collective consensus of a good citizen. Capote is from before this time, and Hollander plays the character from this position of precariousness. Capote understands that his place in the lives of these luxurious ladies is always on shaky ground. He compares himself to a Pomeranian, “there to cuddle when they need something fluffy to hold on to”, yet the instant there's a growl it’s “off to the pound”.

Feud: Capote vs The Swans isn’t the feel-good, sugar-coated, all’s well in the end, gay television storylines we’ve been spoon-fed so far. Over these eight episodes, the show nudges us into seeing friendships as fragile, fraught with problems, prone to falling apart and hurting like hell. It also lays bare the reality that even under the floodlights of rights and representation, there is an inexplicable pain in being othered. And on occasion, that pain plays out as punishment for the holder of it and those closest to them.

The finale of Capote vs The Swans is due to air on March 13, 2024.

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