Netflix’s ‘Monster: The Ed Gein Story’ Crosses the Line: When True Crime Becomes Too Gruesome

Some stories are so horrifying that they may not need to be retold. This thought crossed my mind while attempting to watch Netflix’s latest hit, Monster: The Ed Gein Story. But apparently, I might be alone in feeling this way.

The series debuted at No. 2 on Netflix, attracting more than 12 million viewers, and as of this writing, it holds the top spot in the streaming platform’s TV rankings. It is the third installment in the Monster anthology created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, following earlier series about Jeffrey Dahmer and the Menendez brothers.

The popularity of the show prompted curiosity: why would audiences be drawn to this particular story? Ed Gein, the notorious “Butcher of Plainfield,” is perhaps less widely recognized than other serial killers. Yet his crimes have inspired classic horror films such as Psycho, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and The Silence of the Lambs. In Netflix’s dramatization, Gein is portrayed by Charlie Hunnam, the rugged star of Sons of Anarchy—a casting choice that, in my opinion, further complicates the series by making the killer oddly charismatic.

I enjoy true crime stories and understand the morbid fascination that drives audiences to peer into the minds of killers from the safety of their couches. However, as I watched, I couldn’t help but question the creators’ intent: why go to such lengths to encourage empathy for someone who committed atrocities? What is the value of framing Gein as a character to sympathize with?

The Horror Within

Netflix’s Monster does not shy away from Gein’s grotesque crimes. The series graphically depicts the murders he committed and the disturbing artifacts he created from his victims’ remains. While Brennan’s intent, as he explained in an interview with Tudum, was to explore “what the world looked like” from Gein’s perspective, the result is a series that feels both lurid and unsettling.

Watching these dramatizations, I found myself wishing to look away. Gein confessed to murdering two women in the 1950s, though suspicions suggest more victims. He also engaged in acts of necrophilia and crafted objects and clothing from human remains. For most viewers, the appeal of these details is the shock value rather than any moral or educational insight. And therein lies the problem: the focus on the killer’s psychology and lifestyle overshadows the humanity of his victims.

Hollywood’s Role in Sensationalizing Murder

Society has long been fascinated with killers, particularly those who exhibit unusual or extreme behavior. John Fisher, assistant professor and coordinator of criminal justice at the University of Texas Permian Basin, explains this interest as a cultural obsession with power. “A serial murderer is probably the epitome of that alpha domination,” Fisher says, noting that audiences often project a sense of twisted respect onto violent offenders.

Hollywood has leveraged this fascination for decades. In the case of Monster: The Ed Gein Story, the series repeatedly links Gein’s crimes to pop culture phenomena, highlighting the influence of his acts on Hollywood thrillers. Yet this connection also glamorizes the killer, creating a dangerous narrative where a murderer’s life becomes a spectacle for entertainment.

Charlie Hunnam himself raises a poignant question: “Who was the monster? This poor boy who was abused his whole life then left in total isolation, suffering from undiagnosed mental illness? Or the legion of people who sensationalized his life for entertainment and arguably darkened the American psyche and the global psyche in the process?” The irony is clear: the actor, the creators, and Netflix are complicit in perpetuating the very sensationalism he critiques.

The Ethical Quandary

One of the most troubling aspects of the series is its near-exclusive focus on the killer. Victims are reduced to footnotes, stripped of their individuality and humanity. In a culture increasingly obsessed with narcissism, this emphasis on Gein’s mind and motivations seems both disrespectful to those who suffered and irresponsible toward audiences.

Brennan acknowledges the impact of consuming these stories: “It really matters what you look at and the images and stories you consume. They do stick with you, and they do have an impact.” Yet this awareness doesn’t appear to have limited the show’s graphic content. By presenting violence and depravity as compelling entertainment, the series crosses a line that many viewers may find morally uncomfortable.

At one point, the fictionalized Gein looks directly at the camera and warns, “You shouldn’t be watching this.” That admonition is striking in its irony, given that millions of viewers have tuned in regardless. The real question is why audiences continue to gravitate toward such extreme portrayals of evil, and what this says about our collective fascination with darkness.

A Reflection on Consumption

Monster: The Ed Gein Story is part of a broader trend where true crime content increasingly prioritizes the perpetrator’s narrative over the victims’ experiences. While understanding criminal behavior can offer societal insights, the moral and ethical lines blur when entertainment exploits trauma for ratings. The series serves as a cautionary tale for creators and viewers alike, reminding us to consider what stories we choose to consume—and why.

In the end, perhaps some stories are best left in historical accounts, newspaper archives, or the imagination, rather than dramatized for mass entertainment. As Gein himself ominously cautioned, not everything needs an audience.

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