🔗 Share this article

You've likely seen the Hitchcock classic, The Silence of the Lambs, and the horror staple. Maybe you've even read the original novels that inspired the first two films. Now it's time to encounter the individual behind the Bates Motel owner, Buffalo Bill, and Leatherface. The infamous Ed Gein!

The first two seasons of the series in question centered around Jeffrey Dahmer – an individual possessing strong recognition. This was followed by the sibling duo – a somewhat specialized story for dedicated true crime fans. Attention now shifts to the Butcher of Plainfield. Although he doesn't possess the household name status of Dahmer, Bundy, or Gacy, and his confirmed victims number just two, his grave desecrations and macabre artistry with the deceased have made a profound impact. To this day, any film or show featuring mutilated bodies, flayed skin, or skin-based artifacts likely draws inspiration to his actions from many decades past.

A Dismissive Approach

Do I sound flippant? This appears to be the intended style of the creators. It's uncommon to witness a drama that dwells so eagerly on the worst depredations a person – and humanity – can commit. This includes a substantial narrative strand devoted to the horrors of the Third Reich, presented with minimal moral context.

Effective Pacing and Narrative

In terms of construction and style, the show is impressive. The pacing is flawless, and the skillful blending of past and present is executed brilliantly. We see Charlie Hunnam as the killer in action – the murders, tomb violations, and curating his gruesome trophies. Simultaneously, the present-day narrative follows Alfred Hitchcock, Robert Bloch, and Anthony Perkins as they craft the iconic film from the literary source. The integration of the real – his devout parent and his fixation with women resembling her – and fictionalized scenes – lurid portrayals of Ilse Koch and Nazi party scenes – is handled with technical skill.

The Glaring Omission

What it lacks, in a truly unacceptable way, is any moral dimension or meaningful analysis to counterbalance the protracted, admiring visuals of his immoral deeds. The show presents his vibrant fantasy life and positions him as a man at the mercy of his domineering mother and a morbidly fascinated girlfriend. The implied message seems to be: What is a poor, schizophrenic guy to do? In one scene, Robert Bloch theorizes that without exposure to photographs, Gein would have remained a small-town simpleton.

A Departure from Precedent

One might contend that a show from this stable – renowned for sleek, exaggerated aesthetics – is an unlikely source for deep psychological exploration. But previous works like The People v OJ Simpson offered brilliant commentary on the press and the legal system. The Versace murder story explored celebrity and society. Impeachment scrutinized embedded misogyny. Thus, it is possible, and Murphy has done it.

The Final Verdict

But not here. This installment feels like an exploitation of an underexploited true crime story. It asks for empathy for the man behind the masks without providing understanding into his transformation. Beyond the simplistic "devout parent" explanation, there is little effort to comprehend the origins or prevent future cases. This is merely gratuitous spectacle to the lowest curiosities of the audience. The Nazi scenes do have excellent cinematography, though.