Love Story: JFK Jr. & Carolyn Bessette Is Trying Too Hard to Be The Crown for America

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Often compared to America’s royal family, the Kennedys saw Carolyn Bessette Kennedy fill a role similar to Princess Diana. Like Diana, Carolyn was an outsider—attractive, fashionable, and privileged—thrust into the complex world of her husband’s family. She faced constant attention from the paparazzi, limitations on her career and personal life, and often received conflicting treatment from the media – praised one moment, criticized the next. Tragically, she died in a plane crash in her thirties, with the future of her marriage uncertain, and her life has been endlessly analyzed ever since. Neither woman has been allowed to find lasting peace even in death.

The creators of FX’s Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette, the first season of Ryan Murphy’s new real-life romance series, clearly recognize the similarities between Carolyn Bessette Kennedy’s life and that of Princess Diana. The show, based on Elizabeth Beller’s 2024 biography Once Upon a Time: The Captivating Life of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and created by Connor Hines (Space Force), follows a pattern typical of Ryan Murphy’s work: every underlying idea or hint is explicitly stated. Almost as soon as you notice the parallels to Diana’s story, characters begin to directly acknowledge them, even saying things like, “You’re going to be the American people’s princess.” The result is a surprisingly subtle blend of the later seasons of The Crown and Murphy’s tendency to reinterpret American history. While the series has strong moments, it doesn’t quite delve deeply enough to avoid becoming repetitive.

Similar to the way Once Upon a Time redefined the public’s understanding of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, the new series JFK Jr. & Carolyn Bessette centers her story. The casting of Sarah Pidgeon as Carolyn was key, and the show nailed it. While Pidgeon has some previous TV and film roles (Tiny Beautiful Things, The Wilds, The Friend, I Know What You Did Last Summer), she still feels like a new face – much like Bessette did when her relationship with John F. Kennedy Jr. became public. Pidgeon delivers a fantastic performance, portraying Carolyn not as the harsh figure often depicted in tabloids, but as a smart, composed, and ambitious woman. She’s a career-focused individual who seems both hesitant to embrace the Kennedy family’s public life and strategically cautious in her romance, reminiscent of the popular 1990s dating guide The Rules. The show allows viewers to connect with and appreciate Carolyn’s complexity; it’s her nuanced personality that makes her so compelling.

Honestly, the Kennedys themselves weren’t the most captivating part of this series, and I think that might have been intentional. Paul Anthony Kelly, who I hadn’t seen before, really nails the look of John Jr. – tall, handsome – and he does a solid job portraying a guy weighed down by his father’s legacy, constantly reminded of his perceived failures by the press. He even tells Carolyn, “I don’t want to be a great man, I just want to be a good man,” which felt really poignant. Now, Naomi Watts is usually fantastic – I was completely mesmerized by her as Babe Paley – but here, her Jackie Kennedy felt…off. A little too broad, a bit of a baby voice. The scenes of her dancing with a JFK portrait to the Camelot soundtrack, trying to escape the “America’s widow” label, just didn’t quite land for me. It felt like Murphy’s usual flair was missing. Jackie’s death in 1994, just before John could finally bring Carolyn home, was obviously tragic, but it did actually improve the show, in my opinion. There’s a whole tangle of Kennedy cousins, but Grace Gummer as Caroline stood out – she perfectly played the protective older sister, still looking after her brother even as he was grown, especially with their mother struggling with grief. She was a real highlight.

Okay, let’s talk about what works in this series, because beyond the performances of Pidgeon and Gummer, it’s a seriously beautiful show. The creators clearly listened to early feedback about the costumes and wigs – and honestly, they nailed it. The costume designer and hair department head deserve major credit. Carolyn Bessette Kennedy’s wardrobe is just stunning – all flowing, understated elegance. The color palette – lots of black, white, and khaki – perfectly captures the sleek, minimalist vibe of Calvin Klein in the ’90s, where she worked her way up. It doesn’t feel boring at all, just incredibly chic. (There’s a little side story where Calvin Klein himself gets annoyed that Carolyn is becoming more famous than him, which is amusing.) But beyond the clothes, the production design is phenomenal. This isn’t just any ’90s New York; it’s a specific, glamorous, elite Manhattan, from John F. Kennedy Jr.’s loft to the trendy Indochine restaurant. And the music! Forget the grunge and pop that dominated the radio – they went with Mazzy Star, Björk, and Sade – a much more romantic and sophisticated sound. There’s a predictably over-the-top musical moment with Pulp’s “Common People” – it’s very Ryan Murphy – but it’s so fun, you can’t help but enjoy it.

The show’s visuals and Naomi Watts’ performance as Carolyn are so captivating that I often lost track of the story’s slow pace and repetitive nature. We learn very little about the couple’s lives before they met – Carolyn casually dates a somewhat clueless actor, Michael, while John attempts to break up with his persistent ex, Darryl, who isn’t portrayed sympathetically. The series focuses heavily on the tentative beginnings of their relationship, but their connection doesn’t quite feel strong enough. There’s also a lot of focus on the Kennedys’ complaints about the relentless media attention they receive over the years. The central tragedy, the show repeatedly emphasizes, is Carolyn’s belief that she fully understood what marrying John would entail – her careful planning and hesitation before accepting his proposal. However, after their difficult wedding, the media frenzy intensifies dramatically, turning this capable woman into a recluse. She feels lost and envious of John’s focus on his struggling magazine, while she’s unable to pursue her own career due to the constant scrutiny.

It’s a paradox that marrying John ultimately takes away the independence that initially drew him to her, but that alone isn’t enough for a whole TV series. Both The Crown and the story of JFK Jr. & Carolyn Bessette show us the isolating effect of extreme public attention – how a family can become trapped, forced to prioritize how things look over genuine connection and duty over love. Through Princess Diana and Carolyn Bessette, we see just how different the lives of those in the public eye – whether by birth or fame – are from ordinary lives, and how difficult it is for someone not raised in that intense environment to ever truly adjust.

It’s understandable that people might have different interpretations, but good storytelling should allow for that. Despite its imperfections, The Crown didn’t just focus on the personal struggles of the royal family; it also explored larger issues. It questioned the purpose of the monarchy during Queen Elizabeth II’s reign, the Windsors’ influence on Britain and its former colonies, and the broader political landscape. The show even included glimpses of ordinary people – staff, civil servants, reporters, and workers – to provide context. In contrast, Love Story doesn’t seem interested in understanding the significance of the Kennedys, either to the country that rejected the idea of royalty but embraced them as a kind of substitute royal family. This is disappointing, especially considering that their descendants, with views spanning the political spectrum, continue to shape American politics. If the figures we admire reflect our society, then what did the Kennedys reveal about us in the 1960s, the 1990s, and today?

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2026-02-12 19:06