After diving into the initial episodes of Ryan Murphy’s Grotesquerie, starring Niecy Nash and Joshua Jackson – yes, that Joshua Jackson who now leads Doctor Odyssey – I was briefly convinced he could deliver a compelling serial killer narrative in the vein of David Fincher. The show felt like a twisted, exaggerated take on Se7en, featuring a detective battling alcoholism and a nun with a morbid fascination for serial killers. It seemed right up my alley.
However, my initial excitement waned by the third episode. I struggled through the fourth, and barely twenty minutes into the fifth, I had to pause and check the episode count – five remaining, including the one I was watching. That was my breaking point. Murphy seemed to have completely lost his way, jumping the shark and then some.
Grotesquerie might just be the fifteenth Ryan Murphy series I’ve abandoned mid-season. This has become a pattern for anyone familiar with shows like American Horror Story. Murphy’s prolific output, churning out numerous series annually, makes it unsurprising that his interest seems to fade after the initial few episodes, as he inevitably moves on to his next project. It’s a recurring theme.
Following my Grotesquerie dropout, the next shows I sampled were, coincidentally, also Murphy productions: Joshua Jackson’s new venture, Doctor Odyssey, and an episode from the eighth season of 9-1-1. And here’s the crucial observation: I genuinely enjoy the lighthearted, episodic nature of Cruise Ship M.D. and Stella Grooves All Over Peter Krause – or rather, shows that embody that spirit. While not masterpieces, these hypothetical shows highlight the very quality that makes Murphy a less effective showrunner for serialized dramas but perfectly suited for episodic television formats, like Doctor Odyssey.
Recently, I watched the pilot for Fox’s new series Rescue: HI-Surf, essentially Ocean 9-1-1, and was struck by its relative normalcy. In one scene, a surfer, initially hesitant about big waves, finally takes the plunge, wipes out, and is rendered unconscious. Rescue teams intervene, bring him ashore, administer CPR, and successfully revive him.
And that was it. Murphy’s shows have so conditioned me to expect the outlandish that I was almost waiting for a shark attack, a limb used as a weapon against it, a jet ski collision during the rescue, or perhaps someone sinking into quicksand post-CPR. Exaggerated? Certainly. But was there a part of me that felt a little let down by the straightforward rescue? Perhaps.
The strength of Murphy and his creative collaborators lies in their capacity to generate wildly imaginative concepts. And this talent is perfectly utilized when these extravagant storylines can be neatly resolved within a 42-minute timeframe, ready for a reset the following week. This is precisely why 9-1-1 remains a hit after eight seasons, why Doctor Odyssey has the potential for a similar long run, and why further 9-1-1 spin-offs seem inevitable. Strong characters are beneficial, but let’s be honest – the audience appeal is largely driven by the unpredictable and often absurd plot twists that keep each episode fresh and engaging.
However, this penchant for the extreme becomes problematic across extended 10- or 12-episode seasons. Murphy’s “everything-but-the-kitchen-sink” approach means that by the third episode, the kitchen sink is often already gone. He then seems to scramble for increasingly outlandish elements, piecing together plot lines that ultimately lose coherence and narrative purpose.
In his procedural shows, the stakes feel tangible each episode because new characters can be introduced and face dramatic fates within the hour. But in his serialized dramas, he’s bound to the same core cast. Even when characters are killed off, they often return in improbable ways simply to navigate the increasingly convoluted plotlines. His procedural successes, like the potential we see in Doctor Odyssey, and his serialized failures stem from the same source: his wild creativity thrives in formats that reset weekly, preventing the narrative from spiraling into utter absurdity.
As for his forays into true crime? Those tend to be more consistent in quality, likely because he’s constrained by the factual source material. This inherent limitation keeps his characteristic chaos within a more grounded, believable framework. Murphy seems to require the structure of time constraints in episodic TV or the boundaries of real-world events to effectively channel his chaotic creative energy.
