Reviews
Ryan Murphy’s ‘Grotesquerie’ Kicks Off to a Strong, Sinister Start [Review]
‘Grotesquerie’ channels Se7en, Hannibal, Longlegs, and religious serial killer thrillers in a compelling two-handed murder mystery.
“The end is near.”
Grotesquerie, for all intents and purposes, is Season 13 of American Horror Story, only it’s operating under an original title because the AHS brand has become so tainted. It honestly feels like Grotesquerie might have been developed as a new American Horror Story season, only for the series to pivot mid-production when they realized that this might be a cut above what AHS has been routinely turning out for the past few years. At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if Grotesquerie decides to become an anthology horror series of its own and basically turn into the new American Horror Story if it turns out to be a success and connect with audiences.
The biggest surprise about Grotesquerie is that it’s actually good. It bears a lot in common with American Horror Story, only it’s better, more focused, and grounded. It’s also almost wholly lacking in camp, which is appreciated for a Ryan Murphy production (although there’s a masturbation scene that gets awfully close). It’s worth pointing out that it’s the first Ryan Murphy production where he’s had a hand in writing every single episode, alongside Jon Robin Baitz (Feud: Capote vs. the Swans) and Joe Baken, the latter of whom wrote two of the best episodes to come out of American Horror Stories’ third season, “Bestie” and “Tapeworm.” It’s appreciated that one collaborative team is responsible for the entire season, but American Horror Story: Delicate’s lackluster results proves that a unified vision and minimal cooks in the kitchen doesn’t always result in creative success.
Fortunately, Grotesquerie begins with a brave, bold vision that signals a promising serial killer thriller.
Editor’s Note: This review covers the first two episodes of the series.
Grotesquerie begins with a series of rash killings that are reminiscent of Se7en and Hannibal as they indulge in sprawling murder tableaus, with a touch of Longlegs’ occult obstacles thrown in for good measure. These are disturbing visuals, but Grotesquerie is particularly successful when it comes to atmosphere. A heavy sense of dread hangs over everything. The brief flashbacks to the Burnside family murders and the specifics of their tragedy are among some of the most disturbing material to appear in a Ryan Murphy production, which is saying something. There are no doubt even greater horrors to come. However, while American Horror Story can feel sensationalist and absurd, Grotesquerie works carefully to cultivate a grimy patina that helps these murders come across as accurate depictions of human depravity. There’s a shot early on in Grotesquerie’s first episode where a detective vomits on flowers. This mix of beauty and bile feels like a metaphor for the series’ themes.
These tragedies are juxtaposed against scenes of domestic normalcy and peaceful families as the pendulum swings between horror and humane. “It’s inhuman. No, it’s unhuman,” is an early assessment that Niecy Nash-Betts’ Detective Lois Tryon provides for the Burnside family’s vicious crime scene. Right from the series’ start there’s a chilling feeling that the central serial killer will be some larger than life figure. That’s not to say that he’ll literally be a supernatural monster, but there’s a good chance that Grotesquerie is building towards a grandiose battle of wits between Detective Tryon and some super annihilator.
Niecy Nash-Betts cut her teeth in comedies for decades, but she’s slowly become one of Ryan Murphy’s most capable players between her performances in Scream Queens and her Emmy-winning role as Glenda Cleveland in Monster. Nash-Betts parlays this success into Detective Tryon, one of Grotesquerie’s leads and a character who features layered shades of her past Ryan Murphy production characters. Grotesquerie doesn’t shy away from the crappy hand that she’s been dealt and the apathy that’s seeped into the corners of her life. These crimes, as horrific as they may be, awaken her in a very primal manner. There’s a simple yet elegant sequence where slides of crime scene evidence are cast over Detective Tryon and envelop her body as if she’s been devoured by these murders. It’s a powerful, albeit pat way for Grotesquerie to hint at Tryon’s growing obsession with this case.
Nash-Betts’ Detective Tryon and Micaela Diamond’s Sister Megan Duval are also an excellent duo who immediately have chemistry. Nash-Betts really sells this material and excels in Grotesquerie, but Diamond is a revelation and is the series’ early MVP. She brings a cagey, squirrelly intensity to all of her scenes. Tryon and Duval achieve a unique camaraderie, yet their dynamic doesn’t feel anything like what’s present in other two-handed murder series, like True Detective, or any of Ryan Murphy’s past projects. Sister Duval’s morbid interests may initially seem atypical, but she becomes a welcome conduit for Grotesquerie to deconstruct the idea that cults and crimes have become a new form of faith and religion; a grim fact that’s seemingly corroborated by Murphy’s menagerie of TV series, many of which are variations on the same murderous themes. A sliding scale of cataclysms and callousness continue to consume the world while a nun and priest gossip over burgers about their favorite serial killers.
These first two Grotesquerie episodes establish a baseline between Tryon and Duval and it seems like their dynamic will boil down to the power of faith, like an alternate version of Mulder and Scully, minus the aliens. That being said, both Detective Tryon and Sister Duval know that the truth is out there and they’re determined to find it. Faith is what keeps Detective Tryon going, whether it’s with this macabre crime or her personal life. Tryon struggles with an incomplete jigsaw puzzle at home. Meanwhile, it’s no coincidence that Sister Duval later earnestly admits, “It seemed to fit,” after she makes a prediction about the Burnside massacre, as if she’s mentally putting together a puzzle. She possesses skills that are essential to Tryon.
It’s not unusual for Ryan Murphy series to start strong, only to veer off into messy mediocrity. It may be naive to think that Grotesquerie will be any different, but these first two episodes accomplish quite a bit when it comes to character, atmosphere, and storytelling. Grotesquerie covers more ground than one would expect, all while it finds an effective rhythm that never feels rushed or too lethargic. It’s still early, but Grotesquerie hasn’t succumbed to the typical pitfalls. Grotesquerie posits a world where potentially nothing is sacred, yet this new Ryan Murphy show shines bright and promises a hopeful future where this horror series may actually become something special and stick the landing.
Reviews
‘Hungry’ Review – Finally, a Film Brave Enough to Call Out Hippos for the Monsters They Truly Are
When it comes to the animal attack subgenre of horror, there’s a hierarchy of sorts with the wildlife in question. Killer shark movies are easily the most ubiquitous, while alligators/crocodiles, dogs, bears, and snakes probably lead the rest of the pack.
It’s often worth paying attention, though, when a filmmaker targets a more atypical animal threat, including the likes of Jonathan King’s Black Sheep or Juan Piquer Simón’s Slugs. A new contender rumbles its way onto the screen this month, and while we all grew up thinking hippos are rotund cuties, the truth is far more frightening – this hippo is Hungry.
Sistine (Madison Davenport) and her best friend, Hannah (Olivia Bernstone), are enjoying a vacation in New Orleans, hoping to drown out their troubles back home. They sign up for an early morning bayou tour known for its alligator sightings and are joined by four other tourists and the boat’s skipper, Rodrigo (Michel Curiel). An uneventful trip sees Rodrigo take the group off the beaten path, but when an animal in the water capsizes their boat, the group finds themselves trapped in the swamp by something unexpected and deadly.
It’s a hippo. There’s a hippo in the bayou, and it’s not happy about all these pesky people.
From Joy Houck’s Creature from Black Lake to Walter Hill’s Southern Comfort to Adam Green’s Hatchet, the movies have warned us time and again not to go into the swampy bayous of Louisiana. Those cautionary tales are appreciated, though, as bigfoot, inbred hicks, and undead serial killers are a very real threat. But hippos? In the bayou? Well, that just seems silly.
And yet, Hungry plays its blubbery, big-toothed threat with deadly seriousness, and it’s all the better for it. “But Rob,” I can already hear some of you saying, “just yesterday you reviewed the new shark attack film, Chum, and said it suffered from taking itself too seriously. What gives?” For one thing, you’re misquoting me, but more importantly, the reference there was more of an observation on the animal attack subgenre successes as a whole. The “fun” ones tend to succeed more often than their more serious counterparts, but a dramatic and thrilling time can still be found with filmmakers who know what they’re doing.
Chum may be serious, but it’s also poorly written/performed, lacking in any degree of tension, devoid of personality, and so on. By contrast, Hungry lets its suspense build on the backs of engaging characters, good performances, and believable writing. Only one of its ensemble is obnoxious – a major feat for this kind of film – but even then, their motivations are both well-written and understandable.
The rest of the characters are people you’d be happy to see survive the night, and rather than looking forward to the next kill, director James Nunn and his cast leave us uncertain and nervous about who’s going to go belly up. The nervous business traveler wanting to get back to her kids? The family of three celebrating lost loved ones while on their vacation? Joaquim de Almeida’s Walker, an old hunter, is introduced saying, “The only cute hippo is a dead hippo,” so you pretty much know where he’ll end up.
To that end, the film teases out its hippo’s first appearance until well into the ninety-minute running time. We get ripples and splashes, but it’s only around the midway point that we get our first real look at the beast, and it looks fantastic. Nunn goes on to show the hippo in all its glory, and it’s a convincing antagonist brought to life through practical prosthetic effects and digital work. From the ear twitches to the beast’s giant maw opening wide with awe and malice, the hippo’s presence feels part of the action. There’s a tangible nature to it, something practical effects excel at while digital effects sometimes fail to convince of, and both succeed here with quality work from all involved.
While we get brief exteriors early on and some visually appealing drone shots, the bulk of the film unfolds on what looks to be a highly believable, set-dressed water tank (but could very well be an actual location, in which case, kudos to the team). It’s wholly convincing as a section of the bayou, complete with shoulder-high water and arching, twisting trees emerging into the sky. The film was shot in Malta, which is, coincidentally, where Chum was filmed as well.
Nunn, who also wrote Hungry, is now ten films deep into a fairly interesting career as a genre filmmaker. He’s made four movies with Scott Adkins, three of which are certified action bangers (with 2016’s Eliminators in particular being an underrated gem). He dipped a toe into the animal attack subgenre back in 2022 with the aforementioned Shark Bait, and it’s clear he learned some lessons from that endeavor, as its first hour is an engaging, attractively shot feature that sinks fast as soon as its poorly rendered shark becomes a lead character. Hungry improves on every aspect of that film, with its biggest step up being in regard to the effects.
If there’s an area or two where Hungry lacks bite, it’s in both its gore and its ending. There are numerous kills here, but the nature of the attacks and the choices made by Nunn mean none of them result in gory assaults or outcomes. We’re shown the torn apart corpse of an alligator early on, but most of the human kills see them attacked and dragged underwater, leaving nothing but a blood spill behind. Similarly, while the ending encounter satisfies, it still feels like it should have been a bigger confrontation. Neither of these aspects really hurt the film, but a bolstering of the gore and ending antics would have definitely upped the film’s ultimate entertainment value and rewatchability.
When all is said and done, Hungry is a genuinely solid animal attack film that succeeds in making its creature threat thrilling, entertaining, and, dare I say, educational? Title notwithstanding, the film acknowledges that hippos are vegetarians, meaning the five hundred or so people they kill every year – a true fact! – are slaughtered not out of hunger, but out of spite, self-defense, or a desire to play “land orca” while tossing around us fragile humans like we’re little more than seals in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Characters are grounded and engaging, the film moves well between suspense, character beats, and action, and the effects used to bring the hippo to life are highly effective and never feel like distractions. Drop those expectations of a Hungry Hungry Hippo romp, and settle in for a terrific little survival thriller about an angry, angry hippo instead.
Chomp chomp.
Hungry releases in select theaters today, June 3, before arriving on VOD on June 23, 2026.
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