A review of the miniseries The Beast in Me

⚠️ Spoiler Alert ⚠️ — If you haven’t seen The Beast in Me, you might want to watch first before reading!

I’ll admit it—I pressed play on The Beast in Me mostly because I was curious to see Claire Danes again. It’s been a while since she’s been on my screen, and I still remember her as Angela in My So-Called Life. That show was basically my teenage comfort food, so seeing her return felt like catching up with an old friend who suddenly shows up at your doorstep. This time, though, she’s not the angsty teen we once knew. Her performance here is sharp, layered, and honestly, a little chilling.

It was also my first time watching Matthew Rhys. People have raved about him before, but I never got around to his other work. Now I get it. He has this quiet intensity that makes you lean forward, like you’re afraid to miss a single twitch of his expression.

And then—Jonathan Banks. I don’t care what anyone says, he’ll always be Mike from Breaking Bad to me. He doesn’t hog the spotlight, but his presence adds weight to every scene he’s in.

Jonathan Banks

Brittany Snow surprised me the most. Forget the bubbly Pitch Perfect persona—this role is nothing like that. In fact, it reminded me more of her darker turn in the Murdaugh Murders series. She’s convincing, and it’s refreshing to see her stretch beyond the usual typecast roles.

Natalie Morales also shows up, and I couldn’t help but think of her in Dead to Me. She has this natural charisma that makes her characters feel grounded, even when the story itself is anything but.

Now, if you know me, you know I’m a sucker for shows about serial killers. Dexter is basically my guilty pleasure, so it’s no surprise I enjoyed this one. There’s something about the mix of suspense and psychology that keeps me hooked. And The Beast in Me doesn’t disappoint—it’s tense, unsettling, and at times, downright creepy.

Speaking of creepy, Nile Jarvis deserves a shoutout. His scenes with Aggie had me squirming in my seat. The moment Nile figured out she was in touch with the FBI? Goosebumps. It wasn’t loud or flashy—it was subtle, and that’s what made it so effective. Sometimes the quiet moments are the ones that stick with you.

Of course, a show like this isn’t just about the plot twists. It’s about the psyche behind psychopaths—why they do what they do, and how they manage to blend into everyday life. Psychopaths aren’t always the knife-wielding maniacs we picture. Often, they’re charming, calculated, and disturbingly normal on the surface. That’s what makes them so dangerous. They can mimic emotions without actually feeling them, which allows them to manipulate people with ease. Watching this series reminded me of that unsettling truth: the scariest monsters don’t always look like monsters.

Howver, I was a little disappointed with how Aggie’s hatred toward Fenig was handled. We know it ties back to the accident with her son, but the show only brushed past it. A more vivid portrayal of that moment could’ve added emotional weight and helped us understand her anger on a deeper level. Instead, it felt like a missing puzzle piece. Maybe the writers wanted us to crave more, but I couldn’t help wishing they had shown us just a bit more of that backstory.

By the end, I realized The Beast in Me isn’t just another crime show—it’s a reminder of how fragile trust can be, and how terrifying it is when someone uses it against you.

Stories like The Beast in Me remind us how entertainment can spark uncomfortable questions about human nature. So, after watching, I found myself wondering: how much of what we call “evil” is born, and how much is shaped by the world around us?

What about you—do you think psychopaths are made or simply wired that way?