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You've likely seen Psycho, the iconic thriller, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Perhaps you've also explored the original novels that inspired the first two films. Now prepare to meet the man behind the Bates Motel owner, Buffalo Bill, and Leatherface. The infamous Ed Gein!

The initial installments of the series in question centered around the Milwaukee monster – a name with widespread notoriety. Then came the Menendez brothers – a somewhat specialized case for dedicated true crime fans. Now the spotlight turns to the Plainfield Ghoul. While he may lack the brand recognition of other notorious killers, and only killed two people, his grave desecrations and gruesome creativity with the deceased have left a lasting mark. Even now, any media featuring mutilated bodies, flayed skin, or items crafted from human tissue likely draws inspiration to his actions from over 70 years ago.

A Dismissive Approach

Is my tone too casual? This appears to be the deliberate approach of the creators. It's uncommon to witness a drama that lingers so gleefully on the worst depredations a person – and humanity – can commit. This includes a significant plotline devoted to Nazi atrocities, shown with minimal moral context.

Effective Pacing and Narrative

In terms of construction and style, the series excels. The rhythm is well-maintained, and the clever interweaving of different timelines is handled masterfully. Viewers witness Charlie Hunnam as Gein committing his crimes – the murders, tomb violations, and curating his gruesome trophies. Simultaneously, the present-day narrative follows the creative minds as they develop Psycho from Bloch's Gein-inspired novel. The blending of the real – Gein's religious mother and his fixation with women resembling her – and the unreal – fetishistic depictions of Ilse Koch and SS officer gatherings – is handled with technical skill.

A Critical Shortcoming

The missing element, and unforgivably so, 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 domineering mother and a morbidly fascinated girlfriend. The underlying suggestion seems to be: What is a poor, schizophrenic guy to do? During a key moment, Robert Bloch theorizes that without exposure to photographs, Gein would have remained an unremarkable local.

Breaking from Past Success

You could argue that a Ryan Murphy production – known for sleek, exaggerated aesthetics – is an unlikely source for profound human insight. But previous works like the OJ Simpson trial drama offered sharp analysis on media and justice. The Assassination of Gianni Versace explored fame and culture. Impeachment scrutinized embedded misogyny. So it can be done, and Murphy has done it.

The Ultimate Assessment

But not here. This installment feels like an exploitation of an underexploited true crime story. It demands sympathy for the individual responsible without providing understanding into his transformation. Aside from the reductive "religious mother" explanation, there is little effort to comprehend the origins or prevent future cases. It is nothing but voyeuristic pandering to the basest instincts of viewers. The wartime sequences do have lovely lighting, admittedly.