Cast: Claire Danes, Matthew Rhys, Brittany Snow, Natalie Morales
Creator: Gabe Rotter
Rating: ★★★
There’s a certain thrill when a new series walks in with quiet swagger, and Netflix’s The Beast in Me does exactly that. Created by Gabe Rotter—who astonishingly makes his first real outing as a showrunner here—the limited series feels like the work of someone who has been sharpening their knives for years. Anchored by Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys, it’s a psychological chamber piece built on tension, grief and the unsettling comfort of being seen by the wrong person.
The story follows Aggie Wiggs (Claire), a once-acclaimed writer whose life collapsed after her young son was killed by a drunk driver. Four years later, she’s still rooted to a house that echoes with absence, barely able to move forward, let alone finish the book her publisher is hounding her for. Into this fragile ecosystem steps Nile Jarvis (Matthew), a wealthy real-estate heir who arrives in her neighbourhood carrying the unresolved shadow of his first wife’s disappearance.
Their uneasy introduction—over a request to carve a running trail through shared woods—sparks a connection that is equal parts dangerous and irresistible. And when a new tragedy hits close to home, Aggie finds herself circling Nile’s secrets, ostensibly to write his story while quietly trying to untangle her own.
The good
Claire and Matthew are magnetic. Their scenes thrum with the energy of two people who both recognise the darkness in each other and, perversely, depend on it. Finally after Homeland, Claire delivers a raw, almost intrusive portrait of grief—her expressive face turning small moments into emotional detonations. Matthew counters her softness with a performance that oscillates between charm, threat and bruised vulnerability.
Visually, the series is crafted with precision. The direction encourages suspicion—every room feels slightly too large, every pause stretched just long enough to make you wonder what’s being withheld. The camera treats both characters like unpredictable animals, circling each other across quiet kitchens, dim hallways and wooded backdrops. The supporting cast, especially Brittany Snow and Jonathan Banks, strengthens the world without ever overshadowing it.
The bad
The weakest link is the plot itself. For a show that leans so heavily on psychological intrigue, it rarely delivers real narrative shock. The story often walks predictable routes, teasing bold twists only to retreat into safer choices. Certain episodes lose momentum, and the emotional arc—brilliant in moments—can feel repetitive stretched across eight hours.
The verdict
Even with its narrative stumbles, The Beast in Me is worth the dive for the blistering performances alone. Danes and Rhys turn a familiar premise into something jagged and hypnotic. It may not reinvent the genre, but when the show sharpens its claws, it’s impossible to look away.