Director: Ian Brennan
Producers: Netflix
There’s a moment early in Monster The Ed Gein Story where Charlie Hunnam’s Ed stands in the middle of his barren farmhouse kitchen, the light flickering above him, his face blank and unreadable. It is a quiet scene, almost too quiet, but it tells you everything about the man at the center of this series. He is disconnected from the world, untouched by normal emotion, and held together only by fear, grief, and the echo of a mother who still controls him long after her death. This is the tone the series commits to: not explosive, not sensational, but a slow, eerie unraveling of a mind that never truly belonged to itself.
The show is not a documentary. It is a psychological drama that blends elements of fact with creative interpretation, using mood, symbolism, and character-driven storytelling to fill in the spaces history can’t. Wisconsin is portrayed not as a backdrop but as a presence. The cold farms, the dark woods, the isolation of small-town life, all of it merges into a landscape that feels as trapped and haunted as Ed himself. The farmhouse becomes a character too. Every creak, every shadow, every lingering shot of empty rooms becomes a reminder of the invisible forces shaping his descent.
Charlie Hunnam gives one of his most unsettling performances to date. He plays Ed Gein with a quiet, eerie gentleness, almost childlike at times, which makes the moments of darkness land with even more force. Laurie Metcalf, as Ed’s mother Augusta, brings a fierce and suffocating energy. Her scenes appear like memories or hallucinations, slipping into Ed’s reality with the kind of intensity that makes it clear she is the series’ true ghost. Their dynamic is the foundation of the entire show, a twisted relationship built on fear, devotion, and manipulation, portrayed with chilling precision.
The storytelling is deliberate and heavy, focusing less on the crimes and more on the emotional and psychological conditions that shaped Ed’s world. Long stretches of silence, fragmented flashbacks, and dreamlike sequences create an atmosphere that lingers. The series shows how a seemingly ordinary rural life can conceal monstrous possibilities, and how isolation and trauma can distort a person beyond recognition. It leans into symbolism, using shadows, old photographs, religious objects, and the barren farm environment to reflect Ed’s fractured state of mind.
At times, the creative liberties become noticeable. Certain characters are fictionalized, certain events are dramatized, and some scenes feel designed more for thematic weight than strict accuracy. But the intention is clear. The series is less about reconstructing every historical detail and more about exploring the emotional landscape behind one of America’s most disturbing real-life figures. It wants to understand how a man becomes a monster, and where the human ends and the nightmare begins.
As the episodes progress, the tension unfolds slowly, like a crawl toward inevitable darkness. The pacing can feel heavy, but it serves the overall effect. You are meant to feel the stillness, the claustrophobia, the sense that something awful is always just out of sight. The finale lands with a chilling quietness rather than a dramatic bang, reinforcing that the true horror lies not in what Ed did, but in the emptiness and obsession that shaped him long before the world discovered his crimes.
Verdict: ★★★★☆ (4/5)
A haunting, atmospheric, and psychologically rich series that turns Ed Gein’s story into a slow-burning character study. Anchored by a profoundly unsettling performance from Charlie Hunnam and a visually striking portrayal of rural isolation, the series lingers long after the screen fades to black.
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