Netflix's 'Monster' Finally Delivers an Outrageously Engaging Season With 'The Lizzie Borden Story'

Setting the Stage for a Different Kind of Monster

When Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan's Monster anthology debuted on Netflix, I was skeptical. It was a series that promised to tell true crime stories with a splash of melodrama and an unapologetic focus on disturbing narratives. The first season featured Ed Gein, whose chilling tale of murder and obsession set the tone for what would become a rather grim collection of tales—though I had to admit, it was compelling in its own twisted way.

But when the fourth season arrived with Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story, something shifted. This time, the show didn't just tell the story of a crime—it told it through the lens of a woman who was never truly given a voice. And that's where the magic begins.

“Lizzie Borden is not just another victim; she's an agent of her own destruction.”

A New Kind of Crime Story

The show opens in April 1892, four months before the infamous murders. Lizzie, portrayed with haunting depth by Ella Beatty, is a young woman trapped in a suffocating household ruled by her stepmother, Abby, played with cold intensity by Rebecca Hall. The narrative doesn't just focus on the crime itself—it unpacks the emotional landscape of a woman whose very existence seems to challenge the social norms of her time.

We follow Lizzie through her daily life—her strange habits, her unexplained behavior, and her hidden turmoil. It's not until she meets Bridget Sullivan, played by Vicky Krieps, that Lizzie begins to feel a glimmer of freedom. Bridget becomes more than just a housemaid; she's a confidante, a storyteller, and eventually, a catalyst for change.

Subverting the Narrative

This is where The Lizzie Borden Story really shines: it doesn't shy away from the fact that Lizzie was a product of her environment. The show challenges the traditional portrayal of Lizzie as a cold-hearted killer and instead portrays her as someone who was pushed to the edge by the very system that was supposed to protect her.

As we move through the story, it becomes clear that Lizzie's actions are not just about revenge—they're about survival. The oppressive conditions she faced—her father's emotional detachment, her stepmother's cruelty, and even her own body's torment—make her final act a tragic, if not inevitable, one.

What Makes This Season Special

The most refreshing aspect of this season is how it grounds itself in the reality of women's experiences during the 19th century. Lizzie isn't presented as a villainous monster—she's a complex character who makes choices under extreme duress. The show uses its gothic aesthetic to explore themes of identity, autonomy, and power in a way that feels both timely and timeless.

The presence of other historical figures like Countess Elizabeth Báthory, told through Bridget's stories, adds another layer to the narrative. It shows how misogyny and obsession have been part of human history for centuries, making Lizzie's story not just tragic but also deeply symbolic.

Not Without Its Hiccups

Of course, no series is without its flaws. There are moments where the pacing feels a bit off, especially in the early episodes where we're introduced to so many characters that it's easy to lose track of who's who. Also, the inclusion of Sarah Paulson as Aileen Wuornos in the trailer felt jarring and out of place—especially when compared to how seamlessly the other historical figures are woven into the story.

However, these moments are overshadowed by what this series does well. It doesn't try to justify Lizzie's actions; instead, it invites us to understand them. The result is a haunting, emotionally resonant experience that elevates true crime storytelling from mere entertainment to something more profound.

Why This Matters

In the world of crime dramas, there's often a tendency to romanticize or sensationalize violence. But Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story avoids that trap. It presents Lizzie not as a monster, but as a human being shaped by her circumstances.

This is why I believe it marks a turning point for the series. After four seasons of male-centric narratives, this season dares to tell a story from the perspective of someone who has long been ignored in the annals of true crime history. And that makes all the difference.

“To understand Lizzie is to question the very nature of justice and morality.”

The Future of 'Monster'

While I'm still reeling from the emotional weight of this season, I can't help but wonder where the show goes next. Will it continue exploring female killers? Or will it return to the male-driven narratives that initially defined it?

What I do know is that this series has made me think differently about the stories we tell and the way we judge those who commit crimes. And for that, it deserves a standing ovation—even if Lizzie herself never got one.