For aficionados of the dramatically absurd and devotees of true crime tales twisted for television, settling in for a Lifetime Movie Network (LMN) film is a cherished ritual. When the stars align for a shared viewing, selecting the right cinematic concoction becomes paramount. “Family Sins Film” emerged as our prime candidate, ticking boxes with tantalizing keywords: “true crime,” the ominously intriguing “evil basement,” and the undeniable draw of Kirstie Alley. Armed with a bottle of bourbon (though perhaps not Kid Rock’s preferred variety), we braced ourselves for what promised to be a uniquely disturbing cinematic journey.
Right off the bat, prepare yourself for a heavy dose of “ew.” While the allure of Lifetime’s true crime repertoire often lies in its campy extravagance, “Family Sins film” veers into a different territory, one that feels like a grim reimagining of “Serial Mom” through the lens of “Saw.” Yes, the “Saw” comparison might be overused, but in this case, it’s eerily apt. The film is punctuated by a series of unsettling scenes depicting torture in squalid settings. Your enjoyment, if that’s the right word, hinges on your tolerance for witnessing the systematic abuse of a mentally disabled woman – enslaved, brutalized, and violated by those entrusted with her care and that of her infant child. Spoiler alert, and trigger warning: the horrors extend to her daughter as well.
The film opens with a seemingly idyllic family photoshoot, an immediate visual echo of “Capturing the Friedmans.” (And as a reminder – invoking a superior film only highlights the shortcomings of the one you’re currently watching). Is this picture-perfect facade about to crumble, or are we in for an hour of television as captivating as watching paint dry? We are swiftly introduced to Kirstie Alley as Brenda Geck, presiding over a Mother’s Day celebration with her sprawling family of biological and foster children. And “creepy” barely scratches the surface when describing her offspring. One son embodies the vacant, attention-seeking persona of a Spencer Pratt type. Another daughter, Marie, lurks in the shadows, radiating a pre-pubescent Carrie White vibe – timid, stuttering, and utterly powerless. She clutches a young boy who bears an unsettling resemblance to the Spencer-esque son. Brenda is showered with lavish, expensive appliances, price tags ostentatiously displayed. Notably, Marie is the sole child who arrives empty-handed, a detail hammered home with the subtlety of a sledgehammer by writers who are clearly enamored with foreshadowing. And, of course, rape basements. Primarily rape basements.
The narrative jumps forward, revealing Marie’s escape from the Geck household, her young charge in tow. She desperately seeks someone in authority to heed her story, but encounters only dismissive skepticism. “The Gecks? They’re pillars of the community, you’re clearly delusional.” In true Lifetime fashion, social services are portrayed as inept at best, actively malicious at worst – tearing apart functional families while turning a blind eye to children in genuine peril, possibly even setting fire to orphanages for kicks. Marie’s flight is interwoven with flashbacks to her harrowing childhood. We learn that Mrs. Geck’s parenting style involves instructing her children in the finer points of shoplifting and torching her rental properties when tenants fall out of favor. But fear not, Geck property renters! It’s not all draconian measures. One arson victim, for instance, along with her child, was generously welcomed into the Geck home for some “rehabilitative care.” Regrettably, the Geck family’s rehabilitation techniques appear to have been gleaned from Abu Ghraib. Because if sexual assault, torture, and forced labor are deemed acceptable for enemies of the state, then surely they’re appropriate for a mentally challenged woman and her child. This woman, Nadine, is imprisoned in the basement by Brenda “for her own good.” Food is contingent on meeting Brenda’s exacting housekeeping standards, and a failed escape attempt results in a brutal beating with a stripped extension cord, courtesy of a well-meaning police officer who returns her to her tormentor. Nadine lacks the cognitive resources to orchestrate her own escape. Her daughter, Marie, fares little better. Raised within the Geck family, she eventually uncovers her mother’s captivity and the family’s criminal enterprise. Shoplifting becomes her expected contribution to the household income, and sexual assault by any male family member is presented as a casual entitlement. One morning, Brenda berates Marie for weight gain, only to discover she is pregnant, the result of incestuous rape by her son. Brenda’s reaction isn’t horror or disgust, but rather fury directed at Marie for being foolish enough to get pregnant by one of her children. In a truly disturbing online comment on the Lifetime website, this scene was described as “lighthearted teasing” showcasing Kirstie Alley’s “fun side.” One wonders if internet access extends to the violent offender wings of federal prisons.
Finally, Marie finds an ally in a young District Attorney, untainted by the Geck family’s carefully constructed facade. While Marie’s fragmented narrative clashes with the town’s perception of the Gecks, her account resonates with enough truth to warrant investigation. A raid on the Geck residence uncovers Nadine’s basement prison, providing sufficient grounds for arrest and the initiation of a case. The investigation gradually unearths the Gecks’ extensive criminal activities – arson, shoplifting, and a litany of other offenses. Brenda remains defiantly unrepentant, enlisting a fence for her stolen goods to intimidate Marie. This individual materializes as a shadowy figure, harassing Marie in her trailer, engaging in petty vandalism and arson, more nuisance than genuine threat. And, predictably, this lone external criminal element is Black. Of course.
The film culminates in a trial that unfolds with predictable dramatic beats. Testimony is delivered, Marie weeps copiously, Brenda adopts a suitably contrite demeanor, and the male Geck family members receive sentences ranging from 10 to 20 years for their complicity. The judge practically vibrates with glee at the prospect of incarcerating Brenda. Marie achieves public vindication and moves into a trailer with her mother. The film concludes with a saccharine family embrace. Cue the catharsis!
Awesomeness: 5 This movie is undeniably campy and bizarre, boasting decent production values and a strong cast. However, awarding “awesomeness” points to a film where a mentally handicapped woman wistfully recalls the “gentleness” of her rapist feels deeply wrong. Does that sentence inspire feelings of “awesomeness”? Probably not. Five points for a baseline level of watchable absurdity, and that’s where it ends.
Star Power: 6 Kirstie Alley undeniably anchors this film, deserving at least 5 points for her sheer presence. Her tenure on “Cheers” and, let’s be honest, the public fascination with her weight fluctuations seemingly warrant constant national observation. The supporting cast is populated by actors recognizable from countless television bit parts, familiar yet frustratingly difficult to place.
Lifetimeliness: 10 This film is a quintessential Lifetime movie. Motherhood, child abuse, true crime, women in peril – it’s a checklist of Lifetime Movie tropes. This is the “Now That’s What I Call A Lifetime Movie!” of films. It even features a standout instance of social services derision: a jaded social worker, checking her watch and stifling a yawn as a visibly bruised and traumatized child insists, through tears, that everything is fine at home. Because, you know, social workers.
A total score of 21 feels appropriate. “Family Sins film” is undeniably gripping, delivering precisely what one anticipates from an LMN production. However, it is profoundly disturbing. A single viewing might satisfy morbid curiosity, but repeat viewings are highly unlikely.
