Netflix’s Monster anthology has never shied away from controversy, but Monster: The Ed Gein Story takes it to a chilling new level—delving not just into the depravity of one of America’s most infamous killers but exploring how his crimes reshaped pop culture, horror cinema, and even the legal system.
Charlie Hunnam delivers the performance of his career as Ed Gein, completely dissolving into the meek, soft-spoken farmhand who would unknowingly become the blueprint for some of horror’s most legendary icons. From Norman Bates in Psycho, to Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, to Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs—Gein’s gruesome legacy haunts every frame. The series leans into this legacy boldly, interweaving Gein’s real-life atrocities with their cinematic echoes. Rather than treating him as just another killer in the anthology, Monster positions Gein as the killer who altered horror movies and influended many other serial killers in America.
But the show goes further than homage. It chillingly depicts how Gein’s crimes rippled outward, not just inspiring filmmakers, but emboldening other killers. The courtroom sequences highlighting the trend of murderers pleading insanity to avoid trial are as compelling as they are disturbing. Gein didn’t just warp horror fiction—he rewired real criminal defence strategy.
At the heart of this grotesque legacy is Gein’s relationship with his mother, Augusta, portrayed with venomous precision by Laurie Metcalf. It’s easy to say “behind every monster is a monster,” but Metcalf turns that old adage into a psychological sledgehammer. Her portrayal of Augusta isn’t just terrifying—it’s award-worthy. The venom, the spiritual manipulation, the suffocating religious terror she imposes on Ed—it’s all so precise, so raw, that she enters immediate Emmy contender territory.
Hunnam and Metcalf are electric together. Their dynamic—equal parts affection, revulsion and control—grounds the horror in something deeply human. Without Metcalf’s iron grip on Ed’s psyche, his descent into madness wouldn’t be nearly as convincing. She is not simply part of his story—she is the catalyst.
Stylistically, the series walks a tightrope between stark realism and macabre folklore. Yes, it’s graphic. Yes, some scenes push the line of watchability. But unlike Monster’s previous entries, there’s a purpose behind the gore. Every grotesque discovery, every flash of Ed’s skin-bound trophies, is juxtaposed with horror cinema’s glossy reinterpretations. The message is clear: You’ve seen the fiction—now face the source.
A lot can be said about the liberties that the filmmakers have taken with the story about Gein, his obsession with WWII war criminal Iise Kochand the many conversations that are told via ham radio from his psychiatric facility. They portray Gein as the unreliable narrator; we only know a portion of what he has to say from history and a lot of that has been distorted through the passage of time.
Where Dahmer often felt exploitative, Ed Gein feels reflective. It’s not asking us to sympathise—it’s asking us to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth about society’s fascination with monstrosity. We condemned him publicly, then immortalised him in fiction for generations.
Verdict
Monster: The Ed Gein Story is the strongest entry in the anthology so far. It’s disturbing, unrelenting, and at times almost unbearable—but it’s also one of the most culturally insightful true crime adaptations in years. Charlie Hunnam is transformative, turning in his most nuanced performance yet, while Laurie Metcalf devours every scene with a ferocity that could—and should—earn her an Emmy.
It’s not an easy watch. But it is an essential one.
Monster : The Ed Gein Story is now streaming on Netflix.
