“Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” is a haunting retelling of the infamous crime. Created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, the second installment in their “Monster” anthology for Netflix follows brothers Lyle (an incredible Nicholas Alexander Chavez) and Erik (an excellent Cooper Koch). After enduring emotional, physical and sexual abuse — or so the series alleges — at the hands of their father, José (Javier Bardem), and mother, Mary Louise, aka “Kitty” (Chloë Sevigny), the two murder their parents in cold blood. The series chronicles the brothers’ upbringing, the murders and everything that comes afterward, and it’s overlong and tiresome. It attempts to unravel the circumstances leading up to the crime while also highlighting Erik and Lyle’s trauma. But ultimately, the story feels pointless and bizarre.

“Menendez” premieres in October 1989, two months after Kitty and José’s deaths. Lyle and Erik are riding in a limo to their parents’ memorial service with Kenny G’s “Songbird” playing on the radio. Lyle, the older brother, seems indifferent and collected, but Erik begins to sob uncontrollably, seemingly out of nowhere. The scene immediately illustrates who the men are. One brother is emotional and full of feelings, and the other is tense and angry.

From there, the story oscillates back and forth in time, unpacking the reign of terror that permeated the Menendez household and drove the brothers to commit patricide. Bardem is terrifying and vicious as José, while Sevigny is a pitiless, pitiful woman. Erik and Lyle, in turn, are a grotesque mix of claim and prey.

The murders are depicted in graphic and gory detail, and the plot recounts several police mishaps, which initially arouse the brothers’ suspicions. In the months following the murders, deeply suicidal and tortured by images of his dead parents, Erik confesses to his therapist, Dr. Jerome Oziel (Dallas Roberts), ultimately leading to his and Lyle’s arrest. Judalon Smyth (a perfectly cast Leslie Grossman) is delightful as Dr. Oziel’s mistress and former patient who plays a crucial role in the brothers’ capture and trial in 1993. The series also introduces attorney Leslie Abramson (Ari Graynor), whose tenacity and talent are pigeonholed by the misogyny of the legal profession, the justice system, and her fondness for Erik.

The first half of “Menendez” is excellent, but episode 5, “The Hurt Man,” is the standout. While there is no explicit depiction of sexual abuse, Erik speaks at length and in detail with his attorney Leslie about the lifelong rape and abuse he endured at the hands of his father. The episode is cleverly shot in one long take as the camera slowly zooms in on his face.

Unfortunately, after the fifth episode, the show falls off the deep end. The unruly tone, which teeters between ominous and lighthearted camp (there’s a shocking toupee and over-the-top homoeroticism), implodes in on itself, and the rest of the episodes fall into a repetitive rut.

Episode 6, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” recalls José and Kitty’s relationship, from their courtship to their increasingly strained marriage. While this chapter chronicles the couple’s respective childhoods (both scarred by abuse), and showcases Bardem and Sevigny’s robust talents, it does little to add tension or texture to the series as a whole. The overloaded episode should have been cut entirely, by integrating these flashbacks into the series’ first half.

The remaining episodes are just as taxing. In addition to the Menendez family, as in “Dahmer — Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story,” Murphy and Brennan play a number of key players surrounding the brothers and their trials. Vanity Fair reporter Dominick Dunne (Nathan Lane) focuses on the details of the case. After losing his only daughter to a violent act, he becomes obsessed with seeing to it that Erik and Lyle are punished, especially in the court of public opinion. Episodes 7, “Showtime” and 9, “Hang Man,” reimagine Kitty and José’s killers from Dominick’s perspective. He also chronicles how the brothers navigate prison, including their relationships inside and outside the prison walls. While Lane is terrific, his character adds little to the story as a whole.

In the show, as in real life, the brothers have two trials that last seven years — and the courtroom scenes in “Menendez” are tiresome and annoying. Because the tone is already so skewed, these sequences are a strange, interminable exercise in countless witnesses, legal maneuvers and testimonies.

Los Angeles was a strange place in the late 80s and early 90s. The Rodney King beating, the ensuing riots, the California death penalty, and even the arrest and acquittal of OJ Simpson all played out during the brothers’ time in the spotlight. Rather than subtly weaving these plot points together, Murphy and Brennan continue to beat the audience over the head with them. At one point, Erik even speaks to Simpson from his adjacent cell, proposing that the accused former football player take a plea deal.

Despite its gripping subject matter and excellent performances, “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” has no idea what it wants to be. As such, it simply dissolves into a retelling of unspeakable wrongs and horrific crimes. The bigger issue, however, is who and where we are as a society. When we engage in the business of platforming murderous and sick people, no matter how horrific their upbringing, we are leaning into our own unchecked atrocities.

“Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” is now available to stream on Netflix.