Reviewed by Sohail Ahmed ||

On a Friday night bereft of any inclination to socialize, I did what any shut-in college student would do, I made dinner and resigned myself to a night on the couch with Netflix. As I perused the myriad of new franchise series that Netflix has sought to bolster since the pandemic, I came across the “Trending” section, and much to my chagrin, another horror series chronicling the exploits of a serial killer. This time it was Jeffrey Dahmer with a ten-part spectacle in the macabre. Having moved on from Ted Bundy, apparently, the American people’s insatiable appetite for hedonistically vicarious thrillers would start another frenzy. While I am a neophyte to the horror & psychological thriller genres, admittedly, I have a keen interest in taking on cultural phenomena with elements of a fringe following. This met all the criteria and was the most popular series streaming on the Netflix platform at the time. I ditched the popcorn as I knew what was to follow, and projectile vomiting and other ablutions were simply not on the agenda for the night. I clicked play and started my foray into the world of serial killer biopics, but not before arming myself with a notebook, one that would serve as a playground for the inner cynic, allowing me to use a myriad of archetypes, critical theories, and other literary tools to deconstruct whatever narrative I was to be presented with. 

Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story (2022) – Season 1 Review

I was never much for the macabre or grotesque, but from an early age, recognized its place in a hyper-capitalistic society hell bent on commodifying the sordid and salacious. Much like the tabloids plastered across the checkout aisle in a store near you, the Netflix series surrounding the life and times of Jeffrey Dahmer brings you in forcefully, with only the most visceral of images at its disposal. Inside a Milwaukee gay bar within a predominantly Black part of town, a handsome twenty-something year old pasty White boy walks in wearing blue jeans and a white shirt, hair parted over the side of his glasses, revealing only a stoic smirk and a cheesy pick-up line. Idle banter amongst a few bar patrons nets Jeffrey a date back at his place, perhaps for a few beers and a television movie, and the chance to be a muse for Jeffrey’s “art project”. Under the guise of a photography session, an unsuspecting young Black man is lured back to an apartment littered with half-drunk cans of Miller and Pabst, stale meats, and a vat of liquid with stew-like consistency in the corner of the room disseminating little else but a malodorous stench that has most likely permeated every unit on that floor. Fortunately for that young man, escape was in the plan, and his fate did not intertwine with the dozens of other lives serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer had claimed in that very apartment. Dahmer would also be arrested and taken into custody that night, starting the grieving process for many whose child had gone missing. 

While much of the show maintains a similar tempo, with each episode casting light on a different aspect of Jeffrey’s formative years while showcasing the plight of a new victim, this recipe is nothing new in film. This formulaic approach to filmmaking is bolstered by actor Evan Peters, who single handedly takes on a role of epic proportions, guided by a certain penchant for stoicism and method acting, perhaps utilizing Stanislavski’s and Strasberg’s methods to the fullest, an actor par excellence. In addition to his presence on screen is Niecy Nash, who portrays a rattled neighbor living on the same floor as Dahmer, and Richard Jenkins, who immerses himself seamlessly into the shoes of Lionel Dahmer, father to Jeffrey and a hard-working family man caught between the love for his son, and reconciliation with the past, transgressions and all. The two aforementioned leads really help supply insight into Dahmer’s motives, and the aftermath of the murders, standing strong as the voice of resilience, and just maybe the vexing dilemmas that arise as a result of such large-scale devastation in a community already marginalized. 

Now, while I could certainly sit here and pry into the minutia of the series, picking apart the series as an IMDB amateur critic, I would like to take the rest of this piece to point out the series’ social implications. This genre is nothing new, having seen Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, and others run amok our screens, these exploits continue to be celebrated via a cult following from the edgy and angsty of every age group. This brings me to the centerpiece of my review and critique:

The Dialogue We Must Have

As artists and intellectuals, or just plain cinephiles caught up in the rapture that is a “Friday night Netflix binge”, it is incumbent upon us, or imperative rather, to account for what we choose to consume, and our ethical responsibilities in interpreting the respective medium, and the narrative that we as individuals are able to walk away with. Apropos Dahmer, it is safe to say that while entertaining in the serial slasher and/or thriller mystery sense, it does offer up a bit of introspection for the conscious viewer. Given that series like this one have long been a part of the American ethos and media fabric, what are we to expect in the wake of such a media spectacle? Do we languish on the internet forums replete with lore, or purchase Halloween costumes and other accouterments at the expense of those wronged? Or, just maybe, with a dash of cynicism, do we ask ourselves about consumer accountability, and should we go forward, as a society, when it comes to the production and consumption of aforementioned series? While the show might largely be entertainment, the last two or three episodes make use of the aftermath from such tragedy to peruse the mind of Dahmer’s neighbors, the families of his victims, and a community of color, already marginalized and disenfranchised, reeling from the collective pain body that is formed. In the midst of all this, Glenda Cleveland, Dahmer’s neighbor and principal plaintiff in a lawsuit filed against Dahmer’s estate, asked the city council to erect a memorial in tribute to those affected by this macabre tragedy, and poses several other pertinent questions about ameliorating a sense of community in lieu of fostering more villainy through salacious media coverage.  So, do you still want to watch this series? No, seriously, you really should check it out! I hope this review is not solely a rating system or an echo chamber for movie critics, but a case study on the ethical considerations of American media consumption. Be it the slasher flicks, or the campy horror movies, right down to the serial killer biopics, the question remains: what direction should the industry pursue when commodifying such sensitive topics in an age rife with those technologically savvy enough to consume this media via a myriad of electronic devices, many which reside in the comfort of their pockets, but not quite enough awareness to actually juxtapose authorial intent with artistic interpretation, using a critical lens? This, my fellow Coogs, is food for thought, and I implore you on your off time, as well as those hours spent in class, to undertake a thorough inventory of one’s morals in an increasingly frenetic, and ever changing world, one in which you will be passed the torch in years to come, as the tides of time turn and the paradigms shift. For many, it might not amount to more than a weekend worth of thrills and psychological intrigue, but I do believe there are more intellectually redeeming qualities of the series for those that choose to employ a more critical aperture!