“Only a mother could love you.”
Many names have been used to refer to small-town Wisconsin serial killer and farmer Ed Gein in the 20th century, but the one that has seemed to stick since his crimes were discovered in 1957 is that of “monster.” A fitting moniker given that Gein killed at least two women, enjoyed digging up dead bodies at local cemeteries, wearing their skin and bones as a way of sexual gratification, until he graduated to necrophilia. His felonies and cognitive disturbances were the building blocks that inspired director Alfred Hitchcock’s iconic character Norman Bates and the quintessential horror film “Psycho.”
“Psycho” might be best remembered as Hitchcock’s masterpiece, complete with vivid black-and-white imagery of a seemingly mild-mannered man who slices his way through unwitting female victims at the motel he owns in the middle of nowhere. But that film’s theme of underlying psychosis due to loneliness and grief is famously manifested in the lead character Norman Bates’s devotion to his tyrannical mother. A mother who, spoiler alert, is dead before the film begins.
“Monster: The Ed Gein Story,” the latest offering from Ryan Murphy and frequent collaborator Ian Brennan, is the third installment in their series that highlights the effects of pure evil. Similar to their explorations into serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer and the brotherly love between Erik and Lyle Menendez, Ed Gein’s life is brought to the small screen through factual accounts and a heavy dose of cinematic exaggeration. The result is a season full of ups and downs, illustrious performances from its lead cast, and unfortunate filler episodes that provide little additional context to Gein’s state of mind.
British actor Charlie Hunnam stars as the titular Ed Gein, a massive shift for a performer best known as the protagonist Jax Teller in the drama series “Sons of Anarchy.” Here, Hunnam shares scenes with Laurie Metcalf as Gein’s mother, an overbearing and religious woman eerily similar to the backstory given to Mrs. Bates in “Psycho.”
The two have a contentious dynamic. Mrs. Gein prides herself on being a fire-breathing Christian woman who enjoys referring to the girls of their small town as harlots and whores. At the same time, Eddie explores autoerotic asphyxia while wearing his mother’s undergarments. It’s a problematic relationship, to say the least.
When his mother dies, Ed Gein is left alone to tend to their farm and to his sexual urges and intrusive thoughts that manifest into vile crimes. His mother’s voice lingers in his head much like Dexter Morgan’s Dark Passenger in “Dexter,” ordering him what to do and encouraging misbehavior. Before Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and the BTK Killer, Gein’s crimes were viewed as unspeakable for years.
Instead of what would be considered time jumps and flashbacks, creator Ian Brennan and director Max Winkler cleverly weave Ed Gein’s murderous and sexual journey into the making of “Psycho” and the forever link between the two’s legacy. Anthony Perkins (Joey Pollari) is presented similarly to Gein in this series, attempting to connect Perkins’ closeted secret sexuality to the repressed nature of Gein’s sexual manifestation. The unfortunate outcome for Perkins is that he’s always linked to his iconic performance of Norman Bates, and therefore, the source itself: Ed Gein.
The first half of the season is as much about Alfred Hitchcock (Tom Hollander, fresh from playing Truman Capote in Murphy’s “Feud: Capote vs. The Swans”) and his film as it is about Ed Gein. Hitchcock is ambitious and believes audiences want more than the monsters they’re accustomed to seeing on movie screens, such as Frankenstein and Dracula. He considers a new kind of monster, one far more psychological and terrifying in a real way, would be what audiences are clamoring for.
He delights in watching his audience squirm and leave the theater in anguish at the premiere of “Psycho” in 1960. Winkler utilizes this connection to create space for Hunnam to portray Norman Bates in Hitchcock’s movie. Down to an almost shot-for-shot, more gratuitous shower scene to emphasize the film’s link to Gein’s story, using his love interest Adeline (Suzanna Son) as a stand-in for Janet Leigh.
The second half of the season morphs into what that movie and Gein’s real-life story inspired in Hollywood: slasher flicks of the 1970s, such as “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” The first half’s connection to Hollywood and the inspiration of fictional characters is much stronger than the second half, where the season attempts to elicit shock and disgust from its viewers with graphic violence and shocking sex without adding anything new to the sinister dealings of Ed Gein and those in Wisconsin. Suzanna Son’s Adelina, as a prime example, receives considerable screen time in the latter half of the season, even though the character never existed in real life.
Hunnam’s soft-spoken yet sinister portrayal of Gein is a welcome surprise, as the actor demonstrates range within a character unlike anything he has attempted before. Lesley Manville, as Gein murder victim Bernice Warden, is a nice addition that doesn’t receive nearly as much screen time as the character deserves (although her portrayal would seem to skirt the facts of Warden and Gen’s real-life relationship). Metcalf, as always, provides enough ammunition to keep the story moving at a maniacal pace, even when her character is only heard or manifested through Gein’s mental state.
“Monster: The Ed Gein Story” strives to tell this monster’s story, but fails to deliver eight episodes worthy of a binge watch. Fantastic performances are diluted with exaggerated B-stories that go nowhere at a slow pace.
When news of the slanted-eyed Gein’s crimes comes to light, the media and world don’t know how to classify him. Was he a cross-dresser? Was he trans? Did he have schizophrenia? Or was he just a mama’s boy with a predilection for the macabre?
The Netflix series doesn’t quite have an answer beyond that he was, and still is, a monster.
“Monster: The Ed Gein Story” is now streaming on Netflix.
