It was the 1970s, a different era, when an 8-year-old Ryan Murphy was left to babysit his younger brother. With the television remote and TV Guide firmly in hand, young Murphy picked a film that would indelibly mark his childhood.
The film chosen was Alfred Hitchcock’s iconic “Psycho.” Few could argue that an 8-year-old, especially one alone at night, should ever witness *that* infamous shower scene.
“I went completely berserk,” Murphy, now 59, confessed during a recent video call. “I screamed, I cried, and I ultimately had to call my grandmother for help.” Days later, a visit to the local library and a delve into an encyclopedia revealed a chilling truth: ‘Psycho,’ though a fictionalized novel by Robert Bloch, drew its dark inspiration from the real-life, gruesome deeds of a Wisconsin man named Ed Gein.
While many of us choose to bury our early traumas, some, like Murphy, transform them into art. His latest venture, “Monster: The Ed Gein Story,” is the third chilling chapter in his “Monster” franchise, set to launch on Netflix this Friday. This season, co-created and penned by Ian Brennan, casts a stark light on Gein himself, portrayed by the captivating English actor Charlie Hunnam, widely recognized for his role as the formidable leader of an outlaw motorcycle gang in AMC’s “Sons of Anarchy.”
Even Hunnam, an actor known for his tough roles, admitted to feeling deeply unsettled by the subject. He confessed during the video call that there were moments, spanning several weeks, where he questioned his decision, fearing the role might prove “too bleak and too difficult” to bear.
Charlie Hunnam as Ed Gein in the ‘Monster’ series. Hunnam openly shared his initial panic during preparations, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer horror of Gein’s notorious acts.
Despite his outsized infamy, Gein was definitively linked to only two murders. (He faced charges for one and later confessed to another.) However, his horrific legacy stems from a far more macabre practice: disinterring the recently deceased and crafting macabre masks, clothing, and household items from their skin and bones. This gruesome ritual captivated writers and filmmakers alike, ensuring his legend endured.
Beyond “Psycho,” Gein’s atrocities fueled the creation of iconic villains like Leatherface from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and Buffalo Bill in “The Silence of the Lambs.” His story has permeated popular culture, spawning countless documentaries, true crime novels, horror comics, and other media.
Given the public’s seemingly endless fascination with the darkest corners of human nature, it’s no surprise that prestige television has turned its gaze to Gein. Ryan Murphy, with his successful “American Horror Story,” “American Crime Story,” and “Monster” anthologies, has mastered the art of satisfying this macabre curiosity. This season’s “Monster” debut is just one example; the pipeline of true crime shows remains robust, with “Devil in Disguise: John Wayne Gacy” heading to Peacock, “Murdaugh: Death in the Family” (about convicted murderer Alex Murdaugh) coming to Hulu, and Netflix releasing “The Monster of Florence,” an Italian series on a notorious serial killer active from the 1960s-80s.
And that’s just October’s lineup. The relentless stream of such stories, and the real-life horrors they chronicle, continues unabated.
One might ask if Gein hasn’t already had his share of attention. Yet, “Monster,” despite its grisly subject matter, strives for something deeper: to reveal the man himself, the human being behind the cinematic monsters and the horrifying ‘skin masks.’
“Beneath the ugliness, these were all the acts of a man — by all accounts, a truly strange and compelling individual,” Brennan commented.
The real Ed Gein suffered from schizophrenia and was raised by an intensely religious mother who sought to keep her sons isolated.
In many respects, Gein stands as an archetypal American boogeyman. Harold Schechter, author of the graphic novel “Did You Hear What Eddie Gein Done?” and the thorough true-crime exposé “Deviant,” posits that Gein was indeed the genesis of the distinctly American monster.
“Gein ushered in a uniquely American brand of horror,” Schechter explained. He was a Midwest farmer, a man who babysat neighborhood kids and even played the accordion.
At the core of every “Monster” season lies the profound, often unanswerable, question: are monsters born or made? With Gein, evidence supports both theories. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia and grew up under the ironclad rule of a zealously religious mother who deliberately isolated her children. Yet, the complex reality is that few children of abusive parents become murderers, and most individuals with schizophrenia live non-violent lives.
Murphy and Brennan explore various theories regarding Gein’s corpse desecrations, including potential influences from pulp magazines and adventure comics depicting Nazi atrocities during World War II. These remain, of course, speculative interpretations. (The series also features chilling scenes with Vicky Krieps portraying the war criminal Ilse Koch, known for allegedly ordering household items made from prisoners’ skin.)
The series also delves into how Gein’s horrific narrative was absorbed and reinterpreted by filmmakers such as Alfred Hitchcock (portrayed by Tom Hollander, under extensive prosthetics) and Tobe Hooper (Will Brill), the visionary behind “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” Each director, in the show’s narrative, offers their own theories. Hitchcock, for instance, suggests that sexual repression was Gein’s ultimate undoing.
Ryan Murphy, co-creator of “Monster,” states that his interest lies less in the crimes themselves and more in their surrounding context.
“Polite society forces upon us the illusion that such dark impulses don’t exist,” Hollander’s Hitchcock declares in an early episode of ‘Monster.’ “This transforms our urges into hidden secrets, and those secrets, in turn, fester and make us sick.”
Murphy and Brennan, however, assert that their focus extends beyond psychological pathology, delving instead into Gein’s interactions with the criminal justice and mental health care systems of the time.
“For me, the true fascination isn’t simply the crimes, but everything that envelops them,” Murphy stated. “If your sole takeaway from Ed Gein’s story is just the two murders, then that, frankly, reveals more about you than it does about him.”
To be fair, Gein’s macabre ‘handicrafts’ are more likely to spark widespread conversations. Thus, “Monster” faces the challenging tightrope walk of blending social commentary with sensationalism. Murphy maintains that each season is anchored by profound themes — racial injustice in the Dahmer season, carceral complexities with the Menendez brothers. Yet, the series unflinchingly presents grotesque details, as evidenced by an early episode this season that dwells on a chair disturbingly crafted from human nipples.
Perhaps it’s time for true crime and horror enthusiasts to learn more about the real individual behind the legend. “Ed Gein’s true story has largely been overshadowed by popular culture narratives,” noted Adam Golub, an American Studies professor specializing in true crime’s cultural impact. While “Monster” takes some dramatic liberties, it largely adheres to documented facts, establishing a grounded reality for elements like the fictional “Psycho” shower scene and the semi-factual Leatherface masks.
Hunnam shared, “I don’t know if I can wholeheartedly say I got to the point where I truly, truly understood Ed. What was OK about that is that Ed didn’t really understand Ed.”
Golub offered a slightly more cynical perspective on why “Monster” has now tackled Gein: “We’re caught in an endless loop, rehashing the same few serial killer narratives, and it was simply Ed’s turn in the rotation.”
This current American era offers a compelling backdrop for revisiting Gein’s story. His crimes, committed in the decade leading up to his 1957 arrest, occurred during a post-war period often romanticized, especially by many conservatives, through a veil of nostalgia. Schechter views Gein as the embodiment of the 1950s American psychological divide: the gleaming facade of postwar prosperity contrasted with the lingering shadows of World War II.
“These horrors unfolded in small-town U.S.A. during the seemingly bright and innocuous Eisenhower era,” Schechter noted, adding, “I’ve sometimes described him as Barney Fife with a chainsaw.”
A notable advantage of focusing on Gein is that his crimes, committed 70 years ago, significantly reduce the risk of re-traumatizing victims’ families—a sensitive issue that sparked controversy in prior seasons. (Indeed, the forthcoming fourth season of “Monster” will delve even further into history, exploring the case of Lizzie Borden, acquitted of axe murders in the 1890s.)
When Ryan Murphy began contemplating casting for Gein, a paparazzi photo of Charlie Hunnam caught his eye, suggesting an unexpected resemblance. Though not immediately apparent, this was enough for Murphy to extend a dinner invitation to Hunnam at the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles. Over their meal, Murphy passionately discussed the upcoming season of “Monster,” and Hunnam was deeply affected by his enthusiasm.
“I remember thinking, ‘God, I love this man; I truly hope I get to work with him someday,’” Hunnam recounted.
Charlie Hunnam, second from left, on the set of “Monster.” The series explores multiple theories surrounding Gein while largely adhering to historical facts.
That opportunity arrived sooner than expected. By the end of dinner, Murphy directly asked Hunnam to consider the role of Gein. Hunnam, who typically over-analyzes decisions (often seasoning his speech with Latinate phrases and literary allusions), agreed without hesitation. He was drawn to Murphy’s vision, which promised a nuanced psychological exploration rather than mere sensationalism.
“It resonated deeply with me as a human story, and I felt a profound sense of safety in that approach,” Hunnam explained.
His research commenced, quickly giving way to panic as the enormity of Gein’s heinous acts overwhelmed him. Yet, upon receiving the scripts, a sense of calm returned. He was reassured that this portrayal aimed to uncover the killer’s underlying humanity.
Despite the daunting task of portraying such darkness, Hunnam embraced the challenge. “The initial terror of this role’s dark nature morphed into the terror of believing it would be an impossible feat,” he reflected. “And that, surprisingly, felt like precisely where I needed to be.”
Max Winkler, who helmed six of the eight episodes, and Laurie Metcalf, cast as Gein’s mother, both commended Hunnam’s respectful approach. “Charlie was fiercely protective of the character,” Metcalf noted, “insisting on portraying him as a human, not merely a monster.”
Hunnam, however, couldn’t assert with absolute certainty that he fully achieved this. He allowed himself some understanding, stating, “I don’t know if I can wholeheartedly say I got to the point where I truly, truly understood Ed. What was okay about that is that Ed didn’t really understand Ed. He was incredibly confused by what he did.”
Hunnam’s struggle is universal. Most will grapple with understanding the ‘why’ behind Gein’s horrific actions, even as true crime aficionados might find a disturbing, albeit pleasurable, fascination in the ‘how.’ Gein’s story, both in reality and in the “Monster” series, stands as a stark testament to the most extreme human capabilities.
Yet Murphy, who appears to have reconciled with his childhood terror (or perhaps this season is itself a complex coping mechanism), suggests viewers might find an unexpected comfort in the show.
“I truly believe it offers a space to process anxieties in our often-dark world, and perhaps even to confront fears present in your own life,” he concluded.