The Monster Series: The Ed Gein Story – A Review of the Producer's Dark Murder Show

You're probably familiar with the Hitchcock classic, The Silence of the Lambs, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Maybe you've even read the original novels that inspired the first two films. Now prepare to encounter the individual who inspired Norman Bates, the serial killer, and the chainsaw-wielding villain. The one and only Ed Gein!

The initial installments of the series in question centered around the Milwaukee monster – an individual possessing widespread notoriety. Then came the Menendez brothers – a more niche case for enthusiasts of the genre. Now the spotlight turns to the Plainfield Ghoul. While he may lack the brand recognition of Dahmer, Bundy, or Gacy, and only killed two people, his postmortem violations and macabre artistry with the deceased have left a lasting mark. Even now, any media featuring mutilated bodies, removed epidermis, or skin-based artifacts likely draws inspiration to Gein's exploits from many decades past.

A Tone of Flippancy

Do I sound flippant? This appears to be the intended style of the production team. Rarely have I seen a television series that dwells so eagerly on the worst depredations an individual – and mankind – can commit. This extends to a significant plotline devoted to the horrors of the Third Reich, shown with minimal moral context.

Effective Pacing and Narrative

Structurally and stylistically, the show is impressive. The rhythm is well-maintained, and the skillful blending of past and present is handled masterfully. We see the actor as the killer in action – the homicides, grave robberies, and assembling his collection. In parallel, the present-day narrative follows Alfred Hitchcock, Robert Bloch, and Anthony Perkins as they develop Psycho from the literary source. The blending of factual elements – Gein's religious mother and his fixation with women resembling her – and fictionalized scenes – fetishistic depictions of Ilse Koch and SS officer gatherings – is executed proficiently.

The Glaring Omission

The missing element, in a truly unacceptable way, is any moral dimension or meaningful analysis to offset the protracted, admiring visuals of Gein's depraved acts. The show presents his vibrant fantasy life and frames him as a helpless individual of his controlling parent and an accomplice with dark interests. The implied message seems to be: What is a poor, schizophrenic guy to do? During a key moment, Robert Bloch speculates that without seeing certain images, Gein would have remained a small-town simpleton.

Breaking from Past Success

One might contend that a Ryan Murphy production – renowned for glossy, high-camp style – is the wrong place for deep psychological exploration. But previous works like the OJ Simpson trial drama offered brilliant commentary on the press and the legal system. The Versace murder story delved into fame and culture. The Clinton scandal series examined systemic sexism. So it can be done, and Murphy has done it.

The Final Verdict

But not here. This installment feels like an exploitation of a lesser-known criminal case. It asks for empathy for the man behind the masks without offering genuine insight into his transformation. Aside from the reductive "devout parent" reasoning, there is no attempt to comprehend the origins or prevent future cases. This is merely voyeuristic pandering to the basest instincts of the audience. The wartime sequences do have excellent cinematography, admittedly.