Source : INDIA TODAY NEWS
Ryan Murphy has never believed in subtlety. His worlds are loud, glossy and often drenched in excess. Mansions become characters, blood becomes dcor and even grief arrives dressed in impeccable tailoring. Sometimes that flamboyance overwhelms the story beneath it. The Shards is one of the rare occasions when it doesn’t.
Based on Bret Easton Ellis’ semi-autobiographical novel, the eight-episode series unfolds in Los Angeles in 1981, where privileged high school senior Bret (Igby Rigney) finds his carefully curated world disrupted by the arrival of enigmatic transfer student Robert Mallory (Homer Gere). Around the same time, a serial killer known only as The Trawler begins terrorising the city. As suspicion, obsession and paranoia slowly consume Bret, tthe line between memory and reality becomes increasingly blurred.
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That uncertainty is precisely where The Shards finds its identity. On paper, it resembles a serial-killer thriller. In practice, it’s far more interested in memory than murder. The killings create tension, but they’re never the emotional centre of the story. Instead, Murphy explores the strange fragility of adolescence—the desperate need to belong, the fear of being seen too clearly and the quiet realisation that growing up often means losing faith in the people you thought you knew.
Igby Rigney carries much of that emotional burden with remarkable restraint. His Bret spends most of the series observing rather than reacting, making viewers question whether they’re witnessing events as they happened or as they’ve been remembered decades later. Rigney never overplays that ambiguity, allowing doubt to become part of the performance itself.
Homer Gere proves equally compelling. Robert Mallory enters the series like every great noir stranger before him: handsome, unreadable and immediately unsettling. The performance wisely resists obvious menace. Gere understands that mystery is often more frightening than certainty, and Robert remains fascinating precisely because the show refuses to explain him too quickly.
The supporting cast quietly strengthens the world around them. Kaia Gerber brings an easy confidence to Sarah, while Hayes Warner ensures even smaller moments carry emotional texture instead of merely serving the central mystery.
Murphy’s direction, meanwhile, finally finds material that welcomes his instinct for spectacle rather than resisting it. The affluent homes, immaculate uniforms, endless California sunshine and carefully curated soundtrack don’t simply recreate the early 1980s—they reinforce the illusion of perfection that the story is determined to dismantle. Every beautiful frame carries an underlying sense of unease, reminding oneself that privilege has always been remarkably good at hiding decay in plain sight.
The looming AIDS crisis also hangs quietly over the series. Murphy never allows it to dominate the narrative, but its presence lends the story an aching sense of inevitability. Innocence isn’t simply being lost because of a serial killer. An entire generation stands unknowingly on the edge of a cultural tragedy.
That emotional undercurrent gives The Shards far more weight than its mystery alone could have sustained.
The series also benefits from resisting the temptation to become a conventional whodunnit. Every episode creates suspense through uncertainty rather than constant twists, which really deepens the atmosphere. It’s an approach that rewards patience, though not everyone is likely to appreciate its measured pace.
That’s perhaps where The Shards becomes most divisive. Those expecting an edge-of-your-seat thriller may find Murphy more interested in mood than momentum. The series frequently pauses to linger on glances, conversations and long stretches of introspection where another show might insert a shocking reveal. Likewise, Murphy’s trademark maximalism, equal parts glamour, horror and melodrama, remains fully intact. For some, it will feel intoxicating. For others, it may occasionally feel like style threatening to eclipse story.
Yet here, the two rarely work against each other. Murphy understands that The Shards isn’t asking one to solve a murder. It’s asking viewers to remember what it felt like to believe that adulthood would answer every question, and the horror of discovering it rarely does.
That’s what lingers long after the final episode. Not the identity of The Trawler or the mechanics of the mystery, but the melancholy of watching memory distort guilt, desire and fear into something impossible to fully trust.
For a filmmaker often criticised for mistaking excess for emotion, The Shards feels unusually disciplined. It remains visually extravagant, undeniably dark and occasionally indulgent, but beneath all that style lies something surprisingly fragile. And that’s what makes it one of Ryan Murphy’s most absorbing works in years.
The Shards is streaming on Jio Hotstar in India. New episodes to drop every Thursday.
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SOURCE :- TIMES OF INDIA
