Lizzie Borden Gets a Killer Makeover as Netflix’s ‘Monster’ Takes a Swing at History
Lizzie Borden may have been dead for nearly a century, but apparently, some family drama is simply too good to bury. More than 130 years after the infamous Fall River axe murders, the woman at the center of one of America’s most enduring true-crime mysteries is getting another moment in the spotlight. This time, Netflix is taking a swing at the legend with Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story, the fourth installment of Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s hit anthology series. The eight-episode season trades the familiar nursery rhyme that we all grew up singing for something considerably more complicated. Beneath the bloodshed lies a story of repression, resentment, family dysfunction, and the potentially explosive consequences of keeping people trapped in lives they never wanted.
During a recent virtual press conference, the cast and creative team pulled back the curtain on the production, revealing a series that isn’t particularly interested in simply identifying who picked up the axe. Instead, it explores what might drive someone to swing it in the first place. And as it turns out, this family tree has plenty more to it than a few missing branches.
[Warning: spoilers from Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story are below!]
Building the woman behind the infamous axe
For Ella Beatty, stepping into Lizzie Borden’s shoes meant navigating the tricky territory between historical fact and dramatic interpretation. After all, how do you portray someone whose name is practically synonymous with murder when nobody can definitively say whether she committed the crime? She began by reading The Trial of Lizzie Borden and examining the limited historical information available. But rather than letting the research dictate every creative decision, she approached the role as an opportunity to build a fully realized character.
“I did do research about her,” Beatty explained, “but I also felt that we were building somebody.”
Working with movement coach Julia Crockett, the actress developed Lizzie’s physicality through carefully considered choices involving posture, movement, and mannerisms. Those details helped establish a character who could exist beyond the familiar caricature of a woman wielding an axe. Of course, the historical ambiguity also gave the writers some room to play. Lizzie was famously acquitted of murdering her father and stepmother, leaving generations of historians, amateur detectives, and true-crime enthusiasts debating what really happened inside the Borden household.
Ian Brennan, however, isn’t afraid to take a position.
“I think she did do it,” he admitted, while acknowledging that his interpretation could be wrong.
For Brennan, the creative challenge was deciding how to construct a compelling narrative from a historical record filled with unanswered questions. The resulting series embraces a particular interpretation without pretending to deliver the final verdict on a mystery that has confounded audiences for more than a century. After all, if history had already solved everything, there wouldn’t be much of a show.
A family of monsters or a monstrous family?
While Lizzie may have the title role, the creative team was equally interested in the people surrounding her. Rather than presenting the Borden household as a straightforward collection of villains and victims, the series examines how repression and resentment can transform an entire family. Director and executive producer Max Winkler described the story through the idea of women being placed in cages, forced into restrictive social roles until the pressure becomes impossible to contain.
That concept extends beyond Lizzie to Rebecca Hall’s Abby Borden, a character who could easily have been reduced to the stereotypical wicked stepmother. The actress had other ideas. Rather than burying herself in historical research, she deliberately approached Abby with considerable creative freedom.
“I wanted to make her my own invention,” Rebecca Hall explained, embracing the opportunity to make the character “crazy and weird.”
But beneath Abby’s cruelty, she saw something more revealing: another woman shaped by the same oppressive environment, only expressing her frustrations in a dramatically different way. In this interpretation, Abby isn’t simply an obstacle in Lizzie’s life. She’s another casualty of a society that offers women precious little control over their circumstances.
Charlie Hunnam found similar complexities in Andrew Borden, even though he portrayed a man whose behavior hardly makes him a candidate for Father of the Year. He admitted that he developed an unexpected tenderness toward Andrew, describing him as trapped inside a “cage of his own making.” Grief, disappointment, and emotional turmoil have hardened him into someone increasingly consumed by anger and bitterness.
It’s a fascinating perspective for an actor already familiar with the Monster universe. Having previously portrayed notorious killer Ed Gein, Charlie Hunnam now finds himself playing the father of an alleged murderer—and one of her eventual victims. The change in perspective raises a question central to the anthology: Is a monster defined by what someone does, what they’ve endured, or the damage they inflict on others? In the Borden household, the answer isn’t necessarily simple, but boy does it make for some exciting television.
Murder, mayhem, and a surprisingly good sense of humor
Given the subject matter, one might reasonably expect the production to have been relentlessly grim. Apparently, nobody told the cast. Despite the violence, psychological torment, and spectacularly dysfunctional family relationships, the atmosphere behind the scenes was surprisingly playful. Charlie Hunnam recalled plenty of laughter between takes, while Max Winkler compared the scripts’ humor to Noises Off, the beloved theatrical farce built around backstage chaos.
It’s not exactly the first comparison that springs to mind when discussing a notorious double homicide. Yet that unexpected comedic sensibility was intentional. Ian Brennan wanted the series to keep a biting sense of humor, letting the characters be sharp, absurd, and occasionally downright funny without undermining the horror around them. The creative team also wanted to avoid producing a conventional period drama weighed down by its own historical seriousness.
He explained that contemporary music was deliberately incorporated to prevent the Victorian setting from feeling “stuffy and mildewy.” The contrast between nineteenth-century repression and modern musical sensibilities gives the series a distinctive personality. Winkler cited Kate Bush as an influence in finding the right emotional atmosphere, particularly music that could express yearning, desire, and psychological turmoil. It’s an unconventional combination, but then again, nothing about the Borden family is particularly conventional.
Corsets, pipes, and one very unfortunate vomit scene
Of course, exploring Victorian repression is one thing; however, actually squeezing into Victorian clothing is another. When asked about the most challenging aspect of playing Abby, Rebecca Hall offered a wonderfully concise response.
“Corset.”
Sometimes, one word really does say it all. Beatty agreed that the restrictive costumes became surprisingly valuable performance tools. The physical discomfort and limitations helped communicate what it might have felt like to inhabit a world where women’s bodies, behavior, and choices were constantly controlled. Meanwhile, Hunnam faced a different challenge involving Andrew’s ever-present pipe. Determined to make the character’s smoking mannerisms convincing, the actor used real tobacco during filming. His commitment eventually extended beyond the set, with Charlie Hunnam continuing to smoke the pipe in his personal time until he realized he’d developed something of a habit. He promised himself he’d quit once production wrapped and followed through.
Hall’s most memorable practical challenge, however, involved something significantly less glamorous. Vomit.
The actress admitted that she’s particularly sensitive to watching other people become sick, making one especially unpleasant sequence a source of considerable anxiety. Fortunately, the elaborate practical-effects rig proved more ridiculous than revolting, turning what could have been a miserable experience into something unexpectedly entertaining. It’s reassuring to know that even on a show about axe murders, sometimes the biggest obstacle is simply keeping your lunch down.
Female rage takes center stage in Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story
For all its blood, dark comedy, and theatrical flourishes, Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story ultimately revolves around something considerably more substantial: female rage. Brennan identified social repression as a recurring theme connecting Lizzie to other women explored within the anthology, including Aileen Wuornos and Elizabeth Báthory. Although their circumstances differ dramatically, the series examines how societal expectations, limited autonomy, and accumulated resentment can shape destructive behavior.
Ian Winkler similarly emphasized the restrictive roles historically imposed on women and the consequences of challenging those boundaries. But the series isn’t necessarily interested in transforming Lizzie into a misunderstood feminist hero. Instead, it explores the uncomfortable territory between victimhood and villainy, examining the circumstances surrounding violence without automatically excusing it. Ella Beatty suggested that part of the enduring fascination with female killers comes from audiences’ desire to understand the psychological and social forces behind their actions. What drives someone to cross that line? And how much of that behavior can be understood through the world they inhabit?
Those questions are particularly compelling when the historical figure at the center of the story remains such an enigma. Beatty acknowledged having seen Chloë Sevigny’s acclaimed portrayal of Lizzie and recognized that numerous productions have already offered their own interpretations. But she believes this version finds a different way into the familiar material.
“We are doing something really different with her story,” Ella Beatty said.
And that difference appears to be the point. More than a century after Andrew and Abby Borden were murdered, Lizzie’s story continues to occupy an unusual place between American history and popular mythology. The nursery rhyme may have made her infamous, but the unanswered questions have kept her there. With Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story, the creative team isn’t attempting to deliver a definitive historical solution. Instead, it uses one of America’s most recognizable murder mysteries to examine the emotional prisons people build, the social expectations they inherit, and the devastating consequences when those pressures finally erupt.
It’s a story where nobody is particularly innocent, everyone carries their own baggage, and the definition of a monster becomes considerably murkier the longer you look. Whether viewers arrive for the true-crime intrigue, the psychological horror, the performances, or the sheer spectacle of a spectacularly dysfunctional Victorian family, this latest installment promises more than another retelling of an infamous crime. Lizzie Borden may have taken her secrets to the grave, but Netflix is more than happy to dig them back up. And this time, the axe is aimed at more than just the family tree.
Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story is streaming on Netflix. Have you watched this series yet? How does it compare to previous seasons of the Monster anthology series? Share your thoughts on social media and tag @bsb.insider to keep the conversation going!
