While I found the pacing of Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story slow and, at times, even boring, the show shines in one particular area: its psychological depth.
What kept me engaged wasn’t the storytelling rhythm, but the way it explored two very distinct and haunting personalities under the same roof.
Two Sides of the Same Violence
The series captures the sharp contrast between Lyle and Erik brilliantly. On one side, we see the volatile, angry, and violent brother—unpredictable but outwardly dominant, always ready to explode. On the other side, there is the insecure, fragile “mouse” of the family—timid, hesitant, almost paralyzed by fear.
Yet, what makes Erik compelling is that under the right conditions, even he can lash out violently, especially when pulled into the orbit of his more aggressive brother. The dynamic between them feels like a nightmare recipe: one commanding, the other submissive, but both carrying destructive potential.
The Many Shapes of Abuse
This portrayal becomes even more powerful when considered against the backdrop of their relationship with their father. The show doesn’t shy away from showing how abuse shapes identity. What’s fascinating here is the divergence—how two sons exposed to the same trauma internalize it so differently.
For Lyle, the abuse seems to feed rage, rebellion, and the urge to fight back at any cost. For Erik, it grows into fear, insecurity, and a desperate need for protection—even if that protection comes from the very brother who drags him into violence.
The High Point of The Show
This psychological complexity is where the show truly succeeds. It underlines how abuse doesn’t create a single “type” of victim. Instead, it fractures personalities in unique ways, setting the stage for both domination and submission, both rage and paralyzing fear.
By the end, you don’t just see two killers—you see two boys whose identities were twisted and reshaped, each scar manifesting differently.
Better to Learn Than to Have Fun
While the show may not work perfectly as entertainment, it deserves credit as a psychological study.
The way it depicts the interplay of personality, trauma, and family dynamics makes it an unsettling but valuable portrait of how monsters are not simply born, but painfully created.
If you are into criminal psychology and how personalities develop in violent offenders, take a look at Mindhunter.
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