You're probably familiar with the Hitchcock classic, the iconic thriller, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Perhaps you've also explored the books that inspired the first two films. Now it's time to encounter the individual who inspired Norman Bates, the serial killer, and the chainsaw-wielding villain. The infamous Ed Gein!
The initial installments of the series in question focused on the Milwaukee monster – an individual possessing widespread notoriety. Then came the Menendez brothers – a more niche story for dedicated true crime fans. Now the spotlight turns to the Plainfield Ghoul. Although he doesn't possess the brand recognition of other notorious killers, and only killed two people, his postmortem violations and gruesome creativity with female corpses have made a profound impact. To this day, any film or show featuring dismembered remains, removed epidermis, or skin-based artifacts probably owes a debt to Gein's exploits from over 70 years ago.
Do I sound flippant? It's clearly the intended style of the creators. It's uncommon to witness a drama that lingers so gleefully on the worst depredations an individual – and humanity – can commit. This includes a substantial narrative strand devoted to Nazi atrocities, presented with minimal moral context.
In terms of construction and style, the show is impressive. The rhythm is well-maintained, and the skillful blending of past and present is executed brilliantly. We see Charlie Hunnam as Gein committing his crimes – the murders, grave robberies, and assembling his collection. In parallel, the contemporary storyline follows the creative minds as they craft the iconic film from Bloch's Gein-inspired novel. The blending of factual elements – his devout parent and his obsession with female doppelgangers – and fictionalized scenes – fetishistic depictions of the Buchenwald criminal and Nazi party scenes – is handled with technical skill.
The missing element, in a truly unacceptable way, is ethical commentary or deeper insight to counterbalance the lingering, loving shots of his immoral deeds. The show presents his rich inner world and positions him as a man at the mercy of his controlling parent and an accomplice with dark interests. 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.
One might contend that a show from this stable – known for glossy, high-camp style – is an unlikely source for deep psychological exploration. However, earlier series like The People v OJ Simpson offered sharp analysis on the press and the legal system. The Versace murder story explored fame and culture. The Clinton scandal series scrutinized systemic sexism. Thus, it is possible, and the producer has succeeded before.
Yet not in this case. This installment feels like a commercialization of a lesser-known criminal case. It demands sympathy for the individual responsible without providing understanding into his transformation. Beyond the simplistic "religious mother" 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.