Ryan Murphy's 'The Shards' Revives His Form in 1980s Serial-Killer Drama

Q: Will the show's unreliable narrator twist the serial killer mystery into something entirely unexpected?

Yes — the unreliable-narrator device strongly suggests the mystery may veer somewhere more psychologically unsettling than a straightforward whodunit, though early coverage indicates that may not mean a radically clean twist. The key evidence is built into the adaptation itself. Reviews repeatedly note that Bret’s voiceover frames events as memory, hindsight and interpretation, and that the series emphasizes his status as an unreliable observer. That matters because Bret’s suspicion of Robert is fueled as much by obsession, desire and jealousy as by hard proof. Several critics say the show keeps asking whether Robert is truly dangerous or whether Bret is shaping reality into a story. That said, the internet coverage also points to limits. Some reviewers say the first episodes track Ellis’s novel closely, while others argue the serial-killer plot becomes less mysterious or less menacing as it goes on. One review suggests the show expands the material into a more literal, multi-season whodunit, which could dilute the shock of any single reveal. So the most credible expectation is not a neat “gotcha” ending, but a reframing of what viewers think they know: Robert may be less important as a simple suspect than as the object of Bret’s fear, longing and self-invention. In that sense, the biggest twist may be about Bret’s perception rather than the killer’s identity.

Q: How does stripping away modern technology amplify the psychological terror of a serial killer stalking 1980s teens?

Stripping away modern technology makes the threat feel more intimate, more uncertain and harder to escape. In a story like *The Shards*, set in 1981 Los Angeles, teens cannot instantly text friends, share locations, search records or call for help from anywhere. That delay creates dead space in which fear grows. The series uses that gap well. A landline call is not just communication; it becomes an intrusion. When Bret receives a call and hears a friend being tortured, the horror is immediate and helpless because there is no quick digital trace, no screenshot, no call log that solves anything. A ringing phone in an empty house is more menacing when the voice on the other end cannot be identified in seconds. The lack of smartphones also isolates characters socially. Rumors, suspicions and lies travel slowly and unevenly, which suits the show’s unreliable-narrator structure. Bret’s fixation on Robert can deepen because there is little hard evidence to confirm or disprove his fears. That uncertainty turns paranoia into a central engine of suspense. The 1980s setting adds a physical vulnerability modern teens often do not face in the same way. Characters must drive alone, meet in person, wander unsupervised spaces and rely on memory, instinct and limited adult help. In *The Shards*, that analog world is not just nostalgic style; it is a plot mechanism. It removes the safety net of constant connection, making every silence, missed call and unexplained absence feel dangerous.

3 articles · Updated · The Guardian · Aug 6

Disney+ series "The Shards" is being hailed as Ryan Murphy’s strongest recent work, with the Bret Easton Ellis adaptation framed as a clear rebound after last year’s widely panned "All’s Fair."
1980s Los Angeles drives that revival: Bret’s elite high-school circle unravels as newcomer Robert arrives and the serial killer known as the Trawler leaves 3 victims and a city in fear.
Igby Rigney’s Bret anchors the metafictional story, while Kaia Gerber and Homer Gere lead a cast packed with children of 1980s icons, reinforcing the show’s self-aware period texture.
Troye Sivan’s original music, alongside the show’s curated visuals and soundtrack, helps turn the thriller into a broader meditation on youth, nostalgia and the looming AIDS-era dread.