Netflix's latest dive into true crime, Monster: The Ed Gein Story, has thrust the infamous Wisconsin killer back into the spotlight, blending his real horrors with the fictional terrors he inspired. Premiering this week, the Ryan Murphy series stars Charlie Hunnam as Gein, portraying a reclusive handyman whose crimes shocked the nation in the 1950s. Indeed, Gein's story isn't just pulp; it's a grim chapter that echoed through Hollywood, most notably in Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 masterpiece Psycho.
Who was Ed Gein, exactly? Born in 1906 to a domineering mother, Augusta, he lived a isolated life on a remote farm near Plainfield, Wisconsin. His crimes came to light in 1957 when authorities discovered he'd exhumed bodies from local graveyards, fashioning grotesque items from human skin and bones. But did he kill many? Officially, Gein confessed to just two murders: hardware store owner Bernice Worden in 1957, and tavern keeper Mary Hogan in 1954. Rumors swirled about others, like the unsolved disappearance of teenager Evelyn Hartley in 1953, but no solid links emerged. Gein was caught after Worden's decapitated body was found in his shed, leading to his arrest and eventual insanity plea.
However, the series amps up the drama. It explores whether Gein killed his brother Henry in a 1944 farmhouse fire—suspicions linger, as Henry had tried to get Ed away from their mother's influence, but evidence points to accidental death, not fratricide. No Adeline Watkins as a girlfriend either; that's pure invention for the show. And Gein's soft, eerie voice? Hunnam nails it, drawing from recordings that reveal a oddly childlike timbre, far from the snarling villains of lore.
The Hitchcock connection runs deep. Psycho's Norman Bates, that motel-dwelling psycho preserving his mother's corpse, owes much to Gein—down to the cross-dressing and maternal obsession. Author Robert Bloch, living nearby, drew from news reports, and Hitchcock snapped up the rights. Tom Hollander plays the Master of Suspense in Monster, highlighting how Gein's case birthed icons like Bates, Leatherface, and Buffalo Bill. Laurie Metcalf steals scenes as Augusta, while the cast, including Olivia Williams and Lesley Manville, fleshes out victims and era figures. No Evan Peters this time, though; Murphy saves him for other monsters.
Gein died in 1984 at a mental hospital, never paroled. Yet his shadow persists in films from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre to this Netflix tale. As we binge these stories, one wonders: how much does retelling real evil desensitize us to its cost?