🔗 Share this article

You've likely seen the Hitchcock classic, The Silence of the Lambs, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Perhaps you've also explored the books that served as the basis for the first two films. Now prepare to meet the man who inspired the Bates Motel owner, Buffalo Bill, and Leatherface. The infamous Ed Gein!

The first two seasons of this anthology series focused on the Milwaukee monster – a name with strong recognition. Then came the Menendez brothers – a somewhat specialized case for enthusiasts of the genre. Attention now shifts to the Plainfield Ghoul. While he may lack the brand recognition of Dahmer, Bundy, or Gacy, and his confirmed victims number just two, his grave desecrations and macabre artistry with female corpses have made a profound impact. Even now, any media featuring mutilated bodies, flayed skin, or skin-based artifacts probably owes a debt to his actions from over 70 years ago.

A Tone of Flippancy

Is my tone too casual? It's clearly the deliberate approach of the production team. Rarely have I seen a drama that lingers so gleefully on the most heinous acts a person – and mankind – can commit. This extends to a substantial narrative strand devoted to Nazi atrocities, presented with minimal moral context.

Effective Pacing and Narrative

Structurally and stylistically, the series excels. The pacing is flawless, and the clever interweaving of different timelines is executed brilliantly. We see Charlie Hunnam as Gein committing his crimes – 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 Bloch's Gein-inspired novel. The blending of the real – his devout parent and his fixation with female doppelgangers – and the unreal – fetishistic depictions of the Buchenwald criminal and SS officer gatherings – is executed proficiently.

The Glaring Omission

What it lacks, in a truly unacceptable way, is any moral dimension or deeper insight to counterbalance the lingering, loving shots of his immoral deeds. The show presents his vibrant fantasy life and positions him as a helpless individual of his controlling parent and a morbidly fascinated girlfriend. The implied message seems to be: How could a mentally ill man resist? In one scene, the novelist theorizes that without exposure to photographs, Gein would have remained a small-town simpleton.

A Departure from Precedent

One might contend that a Ryan Murphy production – 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 Assassination of Gianni Versace delved into fame and culture. The Clinton scandal series scrutinized systemic sexism. Thus, it is possible, and Murphy has done it.

The Ultimate Assessment

Yet not in this case. The Ed Gein Story feels like an exploitation of an underexploited true crime story. It asks for empathy for the man behind the masks without offering genuine insight into how he became a monster. Aside from the reductive "devout parent" reasoning, there is little effort to understand the creation or avert similar tragedies. It is nothing but gratuitous spectacle to the basest instincts of the audience. The Nazi scenes do have lovely lighting, though.