IIt might seem strange to suggest that Grotesquerie, the latest show from the ubiquitous, never consciously subdued Ryan Murphy (who co-creates and co-writes here), is bleaker than his usual horror fodder. There are four highly theatrical massacres in the first two episodes alone, and the body count is so great that the number of corpses could outnumber the living, breathing cast. Yet it is different from many of his other projects, which tend to err on the side of spectacle for spectacle’s sake. This clearly grapples with a larger story in the gothic horrors on display.

Those horrors abound. Niecy Nash plays Lois Tryon, a no-nonsense, drunken detective with a complicated home life, all of which are the basic requirements for a female TV agent. You can practically see that “she sighs wearily” is written into the script, though Nash shoulders her worn-out cynicism with poise. Lois thinks she has seen everything until she is called to the scene of the first crime. A radiologist and nutritionist from the local university and their three children have been horribly – and I mean horribly – slaughtered by a mysterious killer who has left no trace of his or her identity, but has many symbolic items lying around. “If this isn’t a hate crime, I don’t know what is,” a lower-ranking police officer explains. “Hate against what?” Lois asks. “Everything”, he answers solemnly.

So this is not subtle, but Murphy rarely opts for subtlety. This is a state-of-the-nation story in which doom-mongering is central. There’s a sense of impending societal collapse, a theme that has fueled previous seasons of American Horror Story, but here it’s amplified theologically and philosophically. It explores fatalism and questions whether evil and vice are inherently human. A local homeless man in robes preaches that “the end is near.” A journalist nun and true crime enthusiast, Sister Megan (Micaela Diamond), who explains that cults are big business again, guides Lois to the religious themes that connect all crimes. She is, Lois notes, “a cross between a sparrow and a Manson girl,” and she also provides an overarching authorial voice. Amid “horrific news and cataclysms at every turn, everything now feels personal to everyone,” says Sister Megan, noting the decline of logic as a force for good.

Whether the show can get away with balancing its simultaneous disregard for the hysteria of murder as clickbait and true-crime voyeurism, and the fact that this is a Murphy-led show about an intelligent, creative mass murderer with flair, remains to be seen . . One heinous method of transmission is reminiscent of recent war crimes; this turns out to be no coincidence, as Sister Megan links the “atrocity” to “something that happens in places where there is no hope and no order anymore.” Such exaggeration is tasteless, and I’m not sure that divided modern America warrants comparison to an actual war zone. But the expression of fear and terror is effective, in a world that feels unstable and contentious. The fact that it opts for slow-creeping dread over jump scares – although there are a few of those thrown in – makes it all the more chilling.

Grotesquerie looks eerily beautiful, in its gothic gloom. Spectators are often paralyzed by the gruesomely staged crime scene, dumbstruck with horror, which is a more effective metaphor. Its weakness lies in not relying on this strong visual sense of itself, instead falling back on clunky exposition that undermines it. “Great. A religious psychopath,” Lois says, as if the nun, the presence of sulfur, and the scripture behind the dead bodies scrawled like photographs on the wall haven’t made that clear.

One of the main pre-release talking points of Grotesquerie was the acting debut of American footballer and famous friend Travis Kelce, but they’re clearly keeping their powder dry as there’s no sign of him in the first two episodes. However, there is a hot, Elvis-esque priest (Nicolas Chavez of Monsters) and Lesley Manville as Nurse Redd, a sour, Ratched-esque nurse who cares for, and then some, Lois’ husband Marshall, who is in a coma. . Watching Manville deliver some lines here is a masterclass in keeping a straight face while tasked with conveying the truly absurd.

Grotesquerie burns slowly, but is intriguing. Elsewhere it’s about reality TV, addiction, guns, faith and the mundanity of marriage. It’s perhaps too much at once, and as is often the case with Murphy shows, there’s a balance between genuine provocation and shock just because he can. Still, these opening episodes suggest it’s worth persevering. This ambitious horror might just find its niche.

Grotesquerie is now on Disney+ and on Hulu in the US