An Axe is Not a Feminist Manifesto

Brendan Hammond, Contributing Writer

“Glee.” “American Horror Story.” “Scream Queens.” These are all iconic (for better or for worse) shows produced under Ryan Murphy’s name. Murphy has gained a significant reputation in Hollywood for his bizarre, gory and sexually charged shows. 

Beginning in 2022, Murphy released his “Monster” series with longtime collaborator Ian Brennan. The series would dedicate each season to a different killer, with the first being Jeffrey Dahmer, then Lyle and Erik Menendez in 2024, Ed Gein in 2025 and, most recently, alleged axe murderer of her father and stepmother Lizzie Borden on Sept. 17. Previous seasons had garnered criticisms for their heavily dramatized and sexualized depictions of these killers. When teasing the new addition to the series featuring their first woman subject, Murphy described the season as “women-driven, feminist, lesbian, dirty, unapologetic.”

I, like many, shamefully have enjoyed much of Murphy’s past work. His work is campy, outrageous, nonsensical and often hilarious. While I took issue with many aspects of the show, “The Lizzie Borden Story” did actually entertain me, though that isn't hard to do. Beginning with the good, this show is visually stunning. Costumes tended to be fairly historically accurate with many of Borden’s own outfits being pulled directly from fashion plates from the era. The sets were bright and colorful, evoking a kind of Wes Anderson–esque atmosphere. I really enjoyed a lot of the acting in the show, particularly Vicky Krieps who played Bridget “Maggie” Sullivan, the family’s maid. Another standout was Jessica Barden who played Nance O’Neil, an actor friend of Borden’s, though they actually met long after the trial had concluded. Jessica Barden brings a kind of obliviousness that perfectly captures the eccentricity of actors and theatre folk. Her portrayal was comedic, campy, and sharp. 

With the good out of the way, with any Ryan Murphy production, there is plenty of bad as well. Notably, as with the previous “Monsters” seasons, this show takes ample creative liberty with the story and timeline. The show attributes the murder of Bertha Manchester to Sullivan and Borden, who the show portrays as beating Sullivan for giving Manchester lesbian thoughts. Manchester is portrayed as a spinster, who is friends with Abby Borden, Lizzie’s step mother. The two kill this old, miserable, grouchy woman as revenge and as a sort of practice round for the “real” murders to come. In reality, Bertha Manchester was 22 years old when she was murdered via axe six days before Borden’s trial, when she had long been in custody. There is no evidence she had any connection to Lizzie, Sullivan or the Borden family. Another odd timeline issue is the introduction of Nance O’Neil. The show portrays Borden meeting and befriending O’Neil prior to the murders, then coaching Borden on her acting so she can sway the jury. This never happened, and in fact, Borden met O’Neil in the summer of 1904, 12 years after the murders.

Perhaps the largest issue with the show is the mess surrounding the show’s thesis. The series seems to argue that monstrosity is not inherent to womanhood, but can emerge from the psychological consequences of systemic oppression while exposing society's contradictory tendency to both victimize women and sensationalize their violence. To support this, the show includes two other women who kill, Aileen Wuornos and Elizabeth Báthory. Wuornos was an American sex worker who was accused of killing seven men in Florida, which she claimed she did in self–defense of sexual violence, but later shifted to saying it was to rob them. Báthory was a Hungarian countess accused of torturing and murdering numerous young women and girls, but these were most likely manufactured libel. The show connects these three women, showing Borden taking inspiration from Báthory and Wuornos taking inspiration from Borden. The show frames these women as having motivation to kill following some form of abuse, with Wuronos and Báthory being victims of sexual violence that made them despise men and Borden being the victim of psychological abuse. 

My issue with this lies in the fact that it conflates female liberation with female violence. There is a significant difference between arguing that misogyny can contribute to violence and suggesting that violence itself constitutes liberation. This is an especially weird perspective to be pushed by two men. Krieps actually expressed reservations about the predominantly male creative team and described having to advocate for a more authentic female perspective during filming. The show's attempt to turn Borden into something of a feminist symbol, particularly through its fictionalized association with women's suffrage, risks romanticizing murder rather than examining it critically. 

Several critics have raised precisely this objection. And historically, we have to remember that Borden was acquitted, and much of the show's explanation for the murders, including her romantic relationship with Sullivan, is invented. Framing Borden’s alleged crimes as a feminist act of female rage is odd, considering her main abuser in the show is a woman; her step mother. There is also a weird conflation between feminism, lesbianism and man hating, which contributes to broader misconceptions about feminists being man hating lesbians. 

Ultimately, “Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story” is a visually stunning and entertaining production that mistakes violence for empowerment. Female rage is a legitimate response to oppression and deserves to be explored seriously, but murder does not become liberation simply because the person holding the axe is a woman. Murphy and Brennan seem so determined to make Borden a feminist icon that they forget feminism never required a body count.