An ‘80s Thriller Series That Looks Great But Knows It’s Lost
The Shards is an ‘80s thriller series on Disney+ and FX that adapts Bret Easton Ellis’s novel into a neon‑sleazy high school murder mystery, pairing Ryan Murphy’s glossy excess with a self‑narrated coming‑of‑age story that is visually arresting but, in its early episodes, frustratingly unsure of what kind of show it wants to be. This Ryan Murphy adaptation follows a fictionalized Bret wandering early‑1980s Los Angeles, juggling sex, drugs, and mounting disappearances while narrating his world in chilly, literary voiceover. On paper, that premise is gold: Ellis’s quasi‑autobiographical material, Murphy’s taste for beautiful chaos, and a teen slasher framework should fuse into a definitive The Shards Disney+ experience. Instead, Episodes 1–4 reveal a series more confident in set dressing than storytelling, a show that keeps promising a sharp psychological thriller and then receding into pretty poses.
Style Over Story: The Murky Pacing of Episodes 1–4
Across the first four episodes, The Shards behaves like it has somewhere to go but refuses to tell us how it plans to get there. We meet Bret, the rich‑kid clique, and the serial killer known as the Trawler against a backdrop of missing teens and ominous cult activity. Yet, as one critic summed it up with a 2.5 / 5.0 rating, Episode 3 is “a nothingburger” that rehashes the same beats—bodies vanish, Bret fixates on Robert Mallory—without deepening stakes or character. Voiceover is the worst offender: instead of sharpening tension, Bret’s narration flattens scenes, telling us how to feel while skipping the messy, suspense‑building moments on screen. The result is a Ryan Murphy adaptation that is “pretty watchable” but frequently hollow, with stretches that feel like a budget Euphoria minus that show’s ruthless emotional clarity.
Casting Chemistry and One Unforgettable Dance Detour
When The Shards works, it’s because the Kaia Gerber cast and their co‑stars inject life into the script’s cold detours. Gerber’s Susan Reynolds, Thom Wright (Graham Campbell), and the enigmatic Robert Mallory (Homer Gere) spark whenever they collide, notably in Episode 4’s Hollywood Hills rager, “Robert’s Party.” The night is a coke‑fogged mess of popped collars, shoulder pads, and Aquanet—a distilled hit of ‘80s excess that finally matches the show’s ambitions. Then Mallory detonates the vibe, dousing booze over whatever meds he’s on and launching into a feral Funkytown routine that hijacks the episode. Castmates admit they were watching in awe; Campbell “can’t wait for the TikToks” of Gere’s sure‑to‑be‑memed moves, and Gerber says, “He committed 100% every single take,” with their onscreen reactions being entirely real. It’s the rare moment where The Shards feels surprising, dangerous, and alive.
The Seduction of ‘80s Aesthetics—and What Viewers Get Out of It
Murphy and Ellis didn’t skimp on the look, and the show’s ‘80s aesthetic is the one thing critics and cast agree on. The FX high school and LA streets drip with yuppie beauty, punk edges, and period‑perfect fashion, from Thom’s Blue Lagoon‑worthy hair—Kaia Gerber’s pick for his most ‘80s trait—to the coke‑slicked party wear at Susan’s mansion. Costume and production design turn The Shards into a mood piece: it may lack narrative conviction, but it rarely lacks a frame worth pausing. For ordinary viewers, the impact is double‑edged. You can “sit back and enjoy the chance to watch beautiful people be horrible to each other and possibly get murdered” for forty minutes at a time, and, as Gerber warns, you probably shouldn’t watch the finale alone before bed because even she found it “spooked” her. The series airs weekly at 9 p.m. on FX and Hulu, with Disney as parent to both platforms.
Is The Shards Worth Sticking With?
The Shards wants to be the definitive ‘80s thriller series about Ellis’s obsessions, but in its early going, it keeps tripping over its own self‑importance. Episodes 1–4 prove that Ryan Murphy can still compose intoxicating images and assemble a compelling young ensemble, yet they also underline a familiar flaw: “there’s not a lot of there there.” Character work outside Bret is thin, supporting arcs are introduced then abandoned, and suspense is deflated by narration and abrupt edits that cut away before horror or desire can sting. And still, that Funkytown dance and the charged, messy party around it suggest a better version of this Ryan Murphy adaptation—one where style serves story instead of replacing it. If the show leans into those chaotic, lived‑in moments and lets its cast define the world rather than its voiceover, The Shards Disney+ experiment might yet justify the hype; if not, it risks being remembered as an immaculate mood board with one killer scene.
