Grisliness, human or not, propels ‘Grotesquerie’ and Menendez-centered ‘Monsters’

As a movie critic with over three decades of immersion in the darkest corners of cinema, I can confidently say that Ryan Murphy has mastered the art of the macabre with his latest offerings, “Monsters” and “Grotesquerie.” These series are not for the faint of heart or those who prefer their entertainment served with a side of sugar.

Approximately midway through the latest season of “Monsters,” Ryan Murphy’s anthology show focusing on individuals who commit heinous acts, Chloë Sevigny’s character, Kitty Menendez, expresses her strong dislike for children – not just her own sons, Lyle and Erik Menendez, who are murderers, but all children in general.

She explains to her therapist that these entities are drawing calcium from your bones as they develop within you,” or more dramatically, “She states to her therapist that these beings are causing harm to your body by consuming your calcium and growing inside you.

Is the portrayal of carrying a child in this instance quite graphic and disturbing? Indeed, it is. To Murphy, who leaves his mark on almost every piece of television production, these entertainments are a collection of elaborate horrors, both human and otherwise.

Approximately a week ago, “Monsters” debuted on Netflix, closely followed by the initial episodes of the new series “Grotesquerie,” which premiered on FX and Hulu. Ryan Murphy, who co-created both projects, has delivered a hefty dose of his signature style, reminiscent of previous works like “American Horror Story,” “Feud” (focusing on Truman Capote’s turbulent relationships with New York high society), and “Ratched” – a chilling prequel to “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” The series are filled with elements of camp, melodrama, and social commentary, often veiled under a layer of violence. Additionally, they feature a generous amount of graphic content.

In a limousine, Lyle and Erik Menendez (Nicholas Alexander Chavez and Cooper Koch) are listening to Milli Vanilli as Lyle discusses his new chicken wing franchise idea. They’re heading towards their parents’ funeral, although it’s hard to forget that they were the ones who took their parents’ lives with shotguns in their own home, a fact known by most for the past 30 years. The series explores the horrific act from various angles, raising questions about the brothers: Were they traumatized victims or cold-hearted sociopaths (or both)? Could it be that Kitty and Jose (played by Javier Bardem), rather than Lyle and Erik, were the true villains? And is there a chance we might witness that gruesome scene again?

Murphy intended to create a Rashomon-like narrative for the Menendez story, presenting it from multiple perspectives and avoiding a definitive version of the truth. This method produces some intriguing yet peculiar outcomes, such as an excessive focus on Dominick Dunne (portrayed by Nathan Lane), who covered the case for Vanity Fair and was known for hosting numerous gossip-filled dinner parties (in these scenes, we seem to find ourselves in the realm of Capote and “Feud”). Dunne’s daughter, Dominique, was tragically murdered in the past, and in “Monsters,” he harbors intense animosity towards defense attorneys like Leslie Abramson (Ari Graynor), who defends and idolizes Erik. However, even she cannot hide the fact that the Beverly Hills brothers went on a lavish shopping spree following the murder of their parents. “Monsters” is also a sharp satire of affluenza.

The film “Monsters” portrays Jose, who is depicted as repeatedly raping his two sons. He justifies this act by stating his desire to shape his children into resilient young Romans, instilling in them a sense of masculine endurance and affection tinged with pain. This premise is chilling, and Bardem delivers an outstanding performance as Jose, a character who exhibits a sadistic, instinctively autocratic nature. His portrayal of Jose places him among the actor’s roster of villains, alongside Anton Chigurh from “No Country for Old Men” and Raoul Silva from “Skyfall.” Should justice prevail, it is hoped that Bardem will someday take on the role of Richard III.

One measure of Murphy’s appeal is the number of superb actors lining up to occupy his world, a very partial list of whom includes Sarah Paulson, Jessica Lange, Tom Hollander, Naomi Watts, Angela Bassett and John Carroll Lynch. That list also includes Niecy Nash-Betts, a supporting player in Season 1 of “Monster” (singular, focusing on Jeffrey Dahmer), who plays bone-tired police Det. Lois Tryon in “Grotesquerie.” The title could be affixed to most of Murphy’s work, but he ups the Grand Guignol-ante in the new series’ opening minutes, when Tryon walks into a murder scene wherein a family has apparently been forced to eat part of their paterfamilias (and you thought shotguns were bad). Things progress from there, with ritualistically staged murders, blood-draining, and even an elaborate (and actually rather impressive) tableau of The Last Supper, featuring slain homeless people.

In “Monsters,” the creatures are distinctly human-like, but “Grotesquerie” implies a more cosmic evil at play, similar to the darkness evoked by horror greats like H.P. Lovecraft or in films like “Se7en.” Like “Se7en,” this movie cloaks its dark themes in a gritty, nighttime setting and layers them with suffering. The troubled Tryon, whose daughter (Raven Goodwin) appears to be self-destructive through overeating, and whose philandering philosophy professor husband (Courtney B. Vance) is comatose, finds aid from a bird-like nun/journalist, Sister Megan (Micaela Diamond), who assists in deciphering the not-so-subtle biblical undertones of this killing spree. As Sister Megan tells Tryon, “To comprehend this monster, you must achieve ecstasy.

In our story, we’re not quite at the level of excess found in “Monsters,” but we’re certainly pushing the boundaries. After contemplating the religious aspects of the violence with Sister Megan, young Father Charlie (played by Chavez, who’s taking on double the role here) engages in intense self-punishment. He vigorously practices self-flagellation, leaving his back severely marked and bleeding. As the Bible says, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.

As a film enthusiast, I found myself disclosing a rather peculiar preference to Sister Megan – my favorite serial killer is none other than Ed Gein, the chilling grave-robber from Wisconsin who left an indelible mark on the horror genre. This macabre character served as the inspiration for the infamous Norman Bates in “Psycho,” both the novel by Robert Bloch and the iconic film directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Furthermore, Gein’s twisted legacy can be traced through to “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and even the upcoming installment of “Monster,” featuring Charlie Hunnam. In many ways, Murphy World mirrors the expansive narrative tapestry woven by Taylor Sheridan in his western tales, such as “Yellowstone.

The constant is monstrousness, or grotesquerie, presented with a nod and a wink that doesn’t lessen the viewer’s subsequent impulse to take a shower. There are other flavors of horror on TV, including the Lovecraft-like works of Mike Flanagan (“Midnight Mass,” “The Fall of the House of Usher”), which balance sensation with a more literary bent. But Murphy seems more tailor-made for these times. Early in “Grotesquerie,” Tryon speculates about the kinds of stories her new journalistic friend’s readership seeks: “the more gruesome, the better.” To which Murphy might add: glory hallelujah.

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2024-09-28 00:31