Fatal Attraction: Are We Romanticising Serial Killers?

Georgina Mumford 

If you know anything about Ted Bundy (and likely you do, given his recent renaissance in popular media), you might have heard that he had fans. These were the women who gathered outside the courthouse like groupies during his trial, sent him illicit photographs of themselves during his time in prison, and wrote him letters including declarations like “I love you so very much, Ted,”– a phrase deeply unsettling to those of us who consider premeditated murder more than a character flaw. In this article, Impact’s writer Georgina Mumford will explore this romanticisation of serial killers.

Bundy wasn’t the only one to prompt this bizarre behaviour: Charles Manson woke up each morning to a slew of fan mail following his conviction, and the “Nightstalker” Richard Ramirez reportedly received so many female visitors during his time in jail that some had to be turned away.  Even today, in some of the internet’s darker corners, the strange romanticisation of murderers prevails. 

is popular media dedicated to shedding new light on these cases, or are the likes of Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, and Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story inadvertently encouraging us to rebrand these infamous killers as something else?

You don’t have to look far under the hashtags ‘Bundy’ or ‘Dahmer’ to get to the weirdness: Tumblr-esque flower crown edits, whimsical fan art, Wattpad fiction of the My-Boyfriend’s-a-Murderer variety. The list goes on. It appears that with the help of  Zac Efron, Evan Peters, and some questionable choices made by studio execs, serial-killer-mania has found its new home with Gen-Z, a disturbing trend which begs the question: is popular media dedicated to shedding new light on these cases, or are the likes of Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, and Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story inadvertently encouraging us to rebrand these infamous killers as something else? Victims of their circumstances, perhaps. Troubled individuals can be understood if we just dig a little deeper, and have a little empathy. Men whose crimes are safely contained in a cinematically-seedy bygone era, and who, with the help of some retro colour grading and an attractive cast, have now been immortalised as all-American icons.

For the record, I don’t begrudge the casting of Efron or Peters as Bundy and Dahmer as others do. The resemblances are passable, and both are stellar actors. Nor is there anything to say that films based on real serial killers can’t be well-executed (exhibit A: Bong Joon-ho’s ‘Memories of Murder.’) But there is something to be said for taste. Or the distinct lack of, in the case of Netflix’s particular brand of killer flicks.

it paints Dahmer as an anti-hero that the audience can root for

I say this with particular regard to Ryan Murphy, whose works The People v. O.J. Simpson, The Dahmer Story, and, most recently, Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story suggest he’s been on the true crime bandwagon for a while now. It was Murphy’s take on Dahmer that garnered the most criticism– not only for its graphic nature but because at times, it paints Dahmer as an anti-hero that the audience can root for. The Menendez’s tale, though a far less straightforward case, was handled with similar tactlessness, with a voyeuristic focus on the brothers’ alleged romantic relationship, as well as clunky wink-nudge references to both Dahmer and Simpson in the script. It’s difficult to avoid the sensation that Netflix and Murphy are attempting to create a kind of true crime cinematic universe, complete with its cast of ‘iconic villains’ with crossover potential. An icky endeavour, to say the least. 

The upshot of this is not only the trivialisation of some of the most sadistic killings in recent history but a slow desensitisation of the reality of such cases. This in turn makes space for Bundy/Dahmer enthusiasts and their unsettling fan accounts to wriggle out of the woodwork and gain momentum.

if we can deconstruct the monster, gather information and know what makes it tick, perhaps the monster will become less frightening

There is a distinction to be made here between those who enjoy true crime content– which research suggests a significant amount of women do– and those making chibi illustrations of Dahmer and Bundy holding hands for their DeviantArt accounts (far from the most offensive ‘shipping’ content to be found featuring this pair). The former is largely accepted as engaging with one’s worst fears from a safe place: if we can deconstruct the monster, gather information and know what makes it tick, perhaps the monster will become less frightening. The latter, as forensic psychiatrist Soham Das, discusses in a video aimed at demystifying the causes of hybristophilia (attraction to those who commit crimes), is exhibited largely by impressionable, young, and often vulnerable women looking to repeat a cycle of abuse they may have been subjected to.

Unsurprisingly, this has fed into an ongoing debate about ‘ethical’ art. Are platforms like Netflix obligated to take responsibility for their audience’s reaction to a certain work? Probably not. However, in the interest of integrity, it would be a start if studio execs and directors consulted those involved in the events they wish to dramatise– something Ryan Murphy’s team seems to have forgotten to do a few times. Several families of Dahmer’s victims have come forward, claiming that no one contacted them regarding the Dahmer Story project. Murphy claims that he did but received no response (which apparently equals the green light in his books). The general consensus of the families is that the show was degrading, re-traumatising, and inaccurate, with the mother of victim Tony Hughes stating plainly, “It just didn’t happen like that.” 

the way in which they portray dangerous criminals gives ample fuel to those who want to glorify their deeds

With the lines between reality and entertainment increasingly blurred, mythologising serial killers in this way invites us to marvel at their dark legacies whilst disregarding those who were hurt. Not only do many of these dramas scream cash grab, but the way in which they portray dangerous criminals gives ample fuel to those who want to glorify their deeds. Despite Murphy’s claims that his work serves to tackle difficult subjects, it seems his Monster anthology might ultimately be doing more harm than good– but with Ed Gein next on Netflix’s roster, it doesn’t look like it’s slowing down any time soon.

Georgina Mumford