Ryan Murphy’s The Shards Is Slick, Sexy and Strangely Empty

Verdict: A Watchable Blur of Sex, Style and Serial Killers

The Shards adaptation is a Ryan Murphy thriller based on Bret Easton Ellis’s quasi‑autobiographical novel, staged as a glossy 1980s serial‑killer drama about a fictionalized teenage Bret drifting through Los Angeles excess. From the first episodes, the verdict is clear: this FX drama is slick, sexy and intermittently hypnotic, but it often feels like an expensive mood board rather than a fully formed story. Critics describe it as watchable yet thin, noting that the show is “very much in the typical Murphy mold” of beautiful young people, queer sex and murder ominously humming in the background, but with “not a lot of there there.” At this point, The Shards is less a must‑see series than a handsome curiosity for fans of Ellis and Murphy who are patient with slow, unfocused storytelling.

’80s Excess: All Surface, Little Substance

As spectacle, The Shards rarely misses. Set in the early 1980s, the show follows Bret as he flits across Los Angeles, “flirting, fucking, and doing drugs,” and Murphy surrounds him with a cast that looks ripped from a retro fashion spread. This is the archetypal Ryan Murphy thriller: lots of beautiful young people, more than a little gay sex, and a haze of drama and murder hanging over every party. Kaia Gerber and Hayes Warner slot neatly into this world as key figures in Bret’s circle, their appeal clearly calibrated to pull in viewers. Yet for all the neon and soft focus, the FX drama review consensus is that the show’s visual polish masks a nagging hollowness. The ’80s setting works as a vibe; it is less successful as a coherent dramatic universe with stakes that matter beyond the aesthetic rush.

Characters, Narration and the Problem of “There’s No There There”

Igby Rigney’s Bret is the closest thing The Shards has to a spine. One critic calls him “terrific” for capturing Bret’s mix of yuppie beauty and mean‑spirited, Joan Didion–wannabe commentary on his peers, while also playing a closeted teen who isn’t especially tortured by his sexuality. Yet the writing around him falters. Reviewers argue that most characters beyond Bret are sketched in “the broadest of strokes,” with Gerber and Warner doing what they can but still feeling indistinct after four episodes. Another reviewer goes further, saying The Shards “lacks an identity,” likening it to a budget Euphoria where the mean rich girls could be swapped into any show without consequence. The narration compounds the problem: critics find it overdone, monotonous, and guilty of telling viewers what to think instead of letting images and performances carry the weight.

Thriller Without Tension: Serial Killers, Vanishings and Stakeless Side Plots

On paper, The Shards should be a gripping Ryan Murphy thriller: teens are disappearing, victims are caged and drugged by a figure dubbed the Trawler, and death lurks at the edges of every scene. A critic notes that the fate of those victims is “weird and unsettling,” but still wonders “just where this was all going and whether there was going to be any sort of decent payoff.” Another FX drama review of Episode 3 argues it “does nothing for the story” and is “not interested in making [a] case for continuing to watch,” describing it as short, uninteresting and unsure if it wants to be comedic or dramatic. Stakeless sequences, premature scene cuts, and extended moments that lead nowhere—like an overlong house‑snooping set to “Edge of Seventeen” that ends in a narrative dead end—drain suspense instead of building it.

Meaning, Purpose and the Limits of Style

The most frustrating thing about The Shards adaptation is how close it comes to being compelling. According to one critic, this early run of episodes is “pretty watchable,” and they are willing to stick with it in the hope the series finds something “meaningful–or at least interesting–to say about the 1980s, about sexuality, and about the allure of death and serial killers.” Yet another reviewer calls Episode 3 “a nothingburger,” arguing that it circles the same arcs—serial killer, missing teens, Bret’s obsession with Robert Mallory—without adding anything new or building sustained tension. The show’s scattered standout scenes, including brief flashes of emotional depth, highlight how much sharper it could be if it spent less time narrating and more time inhabiting its own horror and desire. For now, The Shards remains an alluring but unfocused experiment in marrying Ellis’s cool detachment to Murphy’s maximalist melodrama.

Buy if / Skip if

• Buy the The Shards if you enjoy Ryan Murphy thrillers filled with beautiful young casts, queer sex and stylish ’80s atmospherics more than tight plotting.
• Skip the The Shards if you need a clear narrative purpose, escalating stakes and a strong reason to keep hitting “next episode.”
• Buy the The Shards if you are a Bret Easton Ellis fan curious to see his semi‑autobiographical material filtered through Murphy’s glossy, camp‑leaning sensibility.
• Skip the The Shards if monotonous voiceover and thinly drawn supporting characters tend to pull you out of a story.
• Buy the The Shards if you can live with a “watchable but not essential” FX drama and are content to luxuriate in mood, sex and ’80s nostalgia while hoping the story eventually clicks.