If you haven’t read my review of the four currently available episodes, click here to read it, as it contains much of my criticism of the series thus far.

The series finale thrusts us as “The Trial of the Century” begins in the Collin County Courthouse as Candy Montgomery’s lawyer, Don Crowder, fights the public perception of her as Candy tells her story for the first time among a jury of her peers who will decide her fate.

While this should be an earth-shattering event, it’s not quite the powder keg it’s made out to be. The entire series has been building towards this, yet, the emotion is rarely found in the details we finally receive of the incident. The viewer gets one bit of emotional catharsis towards the horrors of the incident, but that’s about it. The episode treats Candy’s story as though she’s still under immense pressure to keep her story under wraps when it should be relieving her to get this secret out into the open, so she can process both the trauma of the incident and her role in the incident.

That might seem like a damning account of the writing and overall narrative of the episode, but writers Brett Johnson, David Matthews, and Elise Brown come together to craft one of the more intricate teleplays of the series thus far. While, yes, the episode has its lows, there are just as many highs. For example, there’s a scene with Pat Montogomery, Don, and Sherry Cleckler discussing the case in a room, and there’s enough of an undertone of doubt that creates some wonderful dramatic tension amongst the group that makes the viewer question whether Candy’s story is the truth or Candy’s version of the truth.

Another highlight of the finale is how it portrays the trial. For the first time in the series, the viewer is seeing how the public perceives Candy and all the forces at play in “The Trial of the Century”, rather than how characters who have a pre-existing relationship with Candy see her. It’s fascinating, and the one knock I have against the portrayal of the public is how shockingly little of the public perception is weaved into the narrative in the previous episode. That said, it works here, so I’m fine with it.

Micheal Uppendahl returns as the director, and I’m pleasantly surprised by his direction. There’s much more style to this episode than his direction in the series opener, a more consistent tone throughout, and is in general a stupendously directed episode. In short, there’s much more of his signature in the episode. Uppendahl focuses on Candy’s experiences, while not forgetting the public’s perception of her. It’s some stupendous direction, and I can’t wait to see what Uppendahl does next.

Likewise, the cinematography by cinematographer Simon Dennis is his best cinematography in the series. While there’s much less flair, his camerawork here highlights the frame (pardon the pun) of mind each of the characters is in at any given moment. There’s this one shot that I don’t want to spoil for anyone who wants to see this episode, so I’ll try to explain it without spoiling it as best as I can. The setup is Candy is finally describing what happened, and we get this shot of a person watching her give the testimony and breaking down. It drives the point of the series home and will likely leave viewers a bit choked up, given the context behind the shot.

This brings me to the all-star performances. My goodness, what an episode of great performances. For starters, Jessica Biel’s performance is the best it has ever been in the series, and the Television Academy could pull any scene for her Emmy clip. It’s that good. While it would be easy for Biel to ham up her performance, she commits all the way. There’s one scene where she’s giving her testimony on the verge of tears and by using her mannerisms, breaks the viewer down into a state where they’re crying with her. If she doesn’t at least get nominated for an Emmy, I have no idea what’s going on at the Television Academy.

Another compelling performance is Raúl Esparza’s performance as Don Crowder. His performance is as core to the finale as Biel’s. There are multiple points where you feel his pain as he fights the justice system for Candy’s right to have her story told without public perception muddled into the jury’s perception of her. Esparza’s character work is brilliant and is easily one of the better performances in the series.

While her performance is less central to the finale than others, I wanted to mention Jessie Mueller’s stunning character work as Sherry Cleckler in the scenes she’s in. This is her friend on trial, and her performance is compelling as she goes on a journey of self-discovery along with the audience as the details of the incident are revealed.

On the same note, the performances by Timothy Simons, Melanie Lynskey, and Pablo Schreiber are great examples of withholding powerful moments from the viewer until all the cards are on the table, to use an overused idiom. By withholding their performances as Pat Montgomery, Betty & Allan Gore, respectively, the viewers are left wanting to see their characters more often, and once the viewer finally gets to see them, their performances hold a space for the viewer to experience the small moments of betrayal and ultimately, catharsis, that not even Candy Montgomery herself was allowed to experience.

If you’re looking to hear all the details of the crimes of Candy Montgomery, you might want to look elsewhere. However, if you’re in for some immense and powerful character-driven stories surrounding those very same details, you’re in for a treat.

★★★★★

Candy is now available to stream on Hulu.

Until next time!

Thanks to Thomas Stoneham-Judge from Movies For Reel, Shane Conto, Joseph Davis, David Walters, Ambula Bula, and Matthew Simpson for supporting Austin B Media on Patreon!