In the end this story has little to do with the birth of the 20th century. Celebrity and power are only window dressing on a story of madness, rape, and instinctive murder. It's not a story with a point, no clean narrative with justice, catharsis, and other Hollywood inventions. It's a story about powerful people who thrashed each other's lives or quietly absorbed abuse before eventually aging, fading, and dying in obscurity. The story begins with an American empire and ends with three graves. It's a hollow feeling, leaving you wondering if maybe, despite still telling and retelling these stories, that maybe murder isn't so big after all. Maybe everything ends small. Read Full Review
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