Charlie Hunnam’s ‘Monster: The Ed Gein Story’ Is Graphically Violent and Too Unfocused: TV Review
The third installment of Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s “Monster” anthology series, “Monster: The Ed Gein Story,” is a baffling, graphic and endless retelling of the life and crimes of one of America’s most notorious serial killers. The show follows Ed Gein (Charlie Hunnam), an unassuming and odd man, working his family’s farm under the watchful eye of his hateful and vicious mother, Augusta (Laurie Metcalf). When his mother falls ill, Ed finds himself desperate to connect with others. Without his mother’s overbearing glare, Ed becomes romantically involved with Adeline Watkins (Suzanna Son), an intriguing outcast in town, and begins indulging in a spree of gruesome crimes that would later shock the nation.
Strapping and handsome with a voice as meek as a mouse, we first spot Ed on screen in 1945 indulging in his numerous chores. At first, nothing seems nefarious or out of place, but it quickly becomes clear to viewers as Ed strokes the cow’s hide that he is longing for touch. Raised under Augusta’s religious terror and hatred for women, Ed tries to hide his penchant for ladies’ underwear and masturbation to no avail. This unnatural suppression has also morphed into non-consensual voyeurism, a violation that he shares with filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock (Tom Hollander), who would later immortalize him in his fictional portrayal of Ed Gein as the Norman Bates character in “Psycho.”
Already fascinated by the Nazi’s occupation of Germany and the horrors of the concentration camps, Ed’s compulsions go off the rails when Adeline shows him some grisly photos of Jewish bodies and a comic centering on war criminal Ilse Koch (Vicky Krieps), a sequence that is repeatedly brought to life across the series.
Like its predecessors, “Dahmer” and “Menendez,” “Monster: The Ed Gein Story” has several serious missteps. The tone shifts from stoic and dark to campy by the end of the eight-episode series. Murphy and Brennan fill in the show’s dead space by highlighting a group of copycat murderers, including Ted Bundy (John T. O’Brien) and Richard Speck (Jack Erdie). There is even a fabricated plot point involving Ed’s alleged involvement in Bundy’s capture. In the end, sick with lung cancer, Ed even has a color-drenched dream where he meets all of the killers who have long idolized and written to him. Moreover, the added visuals of the Pacific Northwest killers’ heinous crimes, specifically on top of Ed’s, feel like literal overkill, adding a cruel relentlessness to an already overly drawn-out tale.
Additionally, though the Butcher of Plainfield certainly obsesses over the female body, which leads him to fashion keepsakes out of their skin, hair and genitalia, “Ed Gein” tries to twist this into a fascination with transgender women — namely, Christine Jorgensen (Alanna Darby). Although Ed may have been intrigued by Jorgensen’s life, this, along with Richard Speck’s role in the series, seems more of a fetishization and misplaced preoccupation in a narrative having nothing to do with transgender people.
Most critically, “The Ed Gein Story” falls apart because it lacks a central focus. At the core of the narrative is the abusive and hyper-religious relationship between Ed and Augusta. However, Augusta is only vaguely present in the show after the first episode, a criminal underuse of Metcalf’s talent. Instead of the mother-son dynamic, the show highlights Ed’s image in popular culture, as depicted in “Psycho” and “The Silence of the Lambs.” As a result, “Monster” makes Ed Gein mythical again, and in turn strips away the texture and grit that was desperately needed to make the series work.
Outside of the season opener, “Mother!” and Episode 6, “Buxom Bird,” the majority of the episodes feel overlong. “Mother!” works well because the audience is introduced to Ed’s world. “Buxom Bird,” which follows the police’s discovery of Ed’s final victim and the ghoulish scope of his crimes, pulls the viewer out of the killer’s orbit while allowing them to see his monstrosity through the eyes of law enforcement and the townspeople of Plainsfield. The episode is sharp, frank and well-paced, a standout among the rest.
In the end, “Ed Gein” should be much more than it dissolves into. Hunnam and Metcalf deliver absolutely outstanding performances. Their talent alone, against the snowy backdrop of 1950s Wisconsin farmland, gives the show the classic film noir tone that should have been its foundation. Unfortunately, indulging in the repetitiveness of Ed’s crimes and the vomit-inducing visuals of his skin trophies, or even unpacking the psyche of “Psycho” actor Anthony Perkins, dismantles the entire structure of the show. As the series suggests, as a society, we are obsessed with rehashing the unspeakable. But with “Monster: The Ed Gein Story,” the question of “to what end” has never echoed so loudly.
“Monster: The Ed Gein Story” is now available to stream on Netflix.
Strapping and handsome with a voice as meek as a mouse, we first spot Ed on screen in 1945 indulging in his numerous chores. At first, nothing seems nefarious or out of place, but it quickly becomes clear to viewers as Ed strokes the cow’s hide that he is longing for touch. Raised under Augusta’s religious terror and hatred for women, Ed tries to hide his penchant for ladies’ underwear and masturbation to no avail. This unnatural suppression has also morphed into non-consensual voyeurism, a violation that he shares with filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock (Tom Hollander), who would later immortalize him in his fictional portrayal of Ed Gein as the Norman Bates character in “Psycho.”
Already fascinated by the Nazi’s occupation of Germany and the horrors of the concentration camps, Ed’s compulsions go off the rails when Adeline shows him some grisly photos of Jewish bodies and a comic centering on war criminal Ilse Koch (Vicky Krieps), a sequence that is repeatedly brought to life across the series.
Like its predecessors, “Dahmer” and “Menendez,” “Monster: The Ed Gein Story” has several serious missteps. The tone shifts from stoic and dark to campy by the end of the eight-episode series. Murphy and Brennan fill in the show’s dead space by highlighting a group of copycat murderers, including Ted Bundy (John T. O’Brien) and Richard Speck (Jack Erdie). There is even a fabricated plot point involving Ed’s alleged involvement in Bundy’s capture. In the end, sick with lung cancer, Ed even has a color-drenched dream where he meets all of the killers who have long idolized and written to him. Moreover, the added visuals of the Pacific Northwest killers’ heinous crimes, specifically on top of Ed’s, feel like literal overkill, adding a cruel relentlessness to an already overly drawn-out tale.
Additionally, though the Butcher of Plainfield certainly obsesses over the female body, which leads him to fashion keepsakes out of their skin, hair and genitalia, “Ed Gein” tries to twist this into a fascination with transgender women — namely, Christine Jorgensen (Alanna Darby). Although Ed may have been intrigued by Jorgensen’s life, this, along with Richard Speck’s role in the series, seems more of a fetishization and misplaced preoccupation in a narrative having nothing to do with transgender people.
Most critically, “The Ed Gein Story” falls apart because it lacks a central focus. At the core of the narrative is the abusive and hyper-religious relationship between Ed and Augusta. However, Augusta is only vaguely present in the show after the first episode, a criminal underuse of Metcalf’s talent. Instead of the mother-son dynamic, the show highlights Ed’s image in popular culture, as depicted in “Psycho” and “The Silence of the Lambs.” As a result, “Monster” makes Ed Gein mythical again, and in turn strips away the texture and grit that was desperately needed to make the series work.
Outside of the season opener, “Mother!” and Episode 6, “Buxom Bird,” the majority of the episodes feel overlong. “Mother!” works well because the audience is introduced to Ed’s world. “Buxom Bird,” which follows the police’s discovery of Ed’s final victim and the ghoulish scope of his crimes, pulls the viewer out of the killer’s orbit while allowing them to see his monstrosity through the eyes of law enforcement and the townspeople of Plainsfield. The episode is sharp, frank and well-paced, a standout among the rest.
In the end, “Ed Gein” should be much more than it dissolves into. Hunnam and Metcalf deliver absolutely outstanding performances. Their talent alone, against the snowy backdrop of 1950s Wisconsin farmland, gives the show the classic film noir tone that should have been its foundation. Unfortunately, indulging in the repetitiveness of Ed’s crimes and the vomit-inducing visuals of his skin trophies, or even unpacking the psyche of “Psycho” actor Anthony Perkins, dismantles the entire structure of the show. As the series suggests, as a society, we are obsessed with rehashing the unspeakable. But with “Monster: The Ed Gein Story,” the question of “to what end” has never echoed so loudly.
“Monster: The Ed Gein Story” is now available to stream on Netflix.