‘Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story’ Review: Ryan Murphy’s Latest Netflix Serial Killer Saga Is Faux-Feminist Nonsense

In the final hour of Netflix’s Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story , the titular murderess, having finally made her peace with the act of violence that has defined her life, turns to the loyal companion who’s been by her side through it all. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s make it mean something.”

Lizzie (Ella Beatty) is talking about her wealth and notoriety, which she wishes to channel into a force for good. In the moment, though, all I could hear was showrunner Ian Brennan muttering that sentiment to himself. The latest addition to his and Ryan Murphy ’s murder-verse tries desperately to draw something, anything meaningful out of Borden’s saga, with all the finesse of a college freshman trying to crank out a 15-page term paper in the two hours before deadline — and with all the same power of persuasion. Related Stories TV Homer Gere Shares His Theory About 'The Shards' and Robert Mallory TV 'Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story' Team on Painting a Portrait of Female Rage -- and Leaning into Lesbian Theories Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story The Bottom Line Lots of killers, tons of filler. Airdate: Thursday, Sept. 17 (Netflix) Cast: Ella Beatty, Vicky Krieps, Charlie Hunnam, Rebecca Hall, Sarah Paulson, Jessica Barden, Joey Pollari, Billie Lourd Creators: Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan

As the subtitle indicates, Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story is first and foremost a retelling of the real events you probably first heard of as a playground chant (one whose melody becomes a recurring motif), or perhaps saw depicted in more detail by Chloë Sevigny and Kristen Stewart in 2018’s Lizzie . While the real-life Borden has always denied responsibility for the August 1892 deaths of her father and stepmother, the series wastes no time playing coy; it takes as settled fact that it was indeed Lizzie who wielded the axe.

As for why , there, too, the series has a clear-cut answer: because they’re emotional sadists whose sole pleasures in life are tormenting the help and insulting their daughter. Playing Abby and Andrew, Rebecca Hall and Charlie Hunnam gorge on the scenery like they’re trying to make themselves sick; one dinner sequence even ends with them spewing geysers of vomit. There’s zero nuance to their performances, and also nothing unique about them to make them memorable. But as a way to get you to sympathize with the devilish Ms. Borden, I can’t say their cartoonish villainy is ineffective.