American Horror Story: Freak Show’s Moral Maze: Twisty’s Redemption vs. Elsa’s Unfair Vilification

Every compelling narrative requires an origin story, and within the eerie confines of American Horror Story: Freak Show, even the most monstrous figures are afforded one. In the unsettling “Edward Mordrake Part 2” episode, viewers were granted a disturbing glimpse into the tragic past of Twisty the Clown. His transformation from a once-beloved carnival entertainer to a terrifying, violent murderer was presented with a veneer of sympathetic understanding, aiming to explain — if not justify — his horrific actions. While American Horror Story: Freak Show consistently asserts that “Freaks: They’re Just Like Us,” inviting empathy for its outcast characters, this particular narrative choice struck a dissonant chord. I contend that the series pushed the boundaries of redemption far beyond what was warranted for Twisty, a serial killer, while simultaneously subjecting Elsa Mars, a survivor of profound trauma, to an unjust and relentless vilification. This imbalance raises significant questions about the show’s moral compass and its portrayal of justice. Let’s delve into the unsettling details and the implications of these narrative decisions, with **SPOILERS** for the Halloween episode below.

Unpacking Twisty The Clown’s Distressing Backstory in ‘American Horror Story: Freak Show’

The moment Edward Mordrake (Wes Bentley), the spectral figure who judges souls, lent an ear to Twisty’s lamentable tale, a tear rolled down his freakish, demon-split face. Edward, a connoisseur of human depravity, remarked to Twisty, “I have met many a craven killer, many a sniveling coward in my time. Every one of them could admit the blackness in their hearts when their hour came.” Yet, Twisty remained an anomaly. His chilling belief system was that he was genuinely “helping” children by abducting them, brutally murdering their parents, subjecting them to starvation, and forcing them to endure his grotesque, violent “performances.” This twisted logic, this profound disconnect from reality, is what makes Twisty’s character so terrifyingly complex. His past, filled with bullying, a failed suicide attempt, and self-mutilation after being ostracized, certainly evokes a degree of pity. The narrative makes a deliberate effort to show the societal forces that shaped his madness.

Indeed, the portrayal was undeniably powerful. The actor, John Carroll Lynch, delivered an exceptional performance, imbuing Twisty with a disturbing pathos as he recounted his personal tragedies. The scene was expertly crafted to elicit a modicum of understanding, perhaps even sympathy, for the broken man beneath the terrifying clown mask. It is a testament to Lynch’s talent and the writing that such a truly monstrous character could, for a fleeting moment, appear vulnerable and wounded. This delicate balance, however, is precisely where the narrative veers into morally ambiguous territory. While understanding the *origins* of a killer’s psychosis can deepen character, it should not, by extension, lead to a narrative “redemption” that absolves them of their heinous acts. The audience is invited to feel for Twisty, to see him as a victim of circumstance, but the severity of his crimes makes this emotional manipulation deeply problematic.

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In a pivotal moment, Edward Mordrake’s intervention ultimately resulted in Twisty’s death, an act framed as one of mercy. Upon joining Edward’s spectral coterie of deceased “freaks” – a collection of lost souls yearning for acceptance – Twisty finally discovered a place where he belonged. For all the inherent violence and finality of the act itself, there was an almost saccharine, bittersweet quality to this scene, suggesting a peaceful resolution for a character who had brought so much terror. The camera lingered on Twisty’s smile, now freed from the pain of his earthly existence, as he found camaraderie among other spectral outcasts. This portrayal of his afterlife, finding acceptance and a true home, serves as the ultimate narrative redemption for a character who, by any moral standard, was irredeemable.

However tragic Twisty’s story might have been, a compelling backstory, rife with pain and injustice, does not excuse multiple murders. It does not erase the trauma he inflicted upon innocent families. And critically, it certainly doesn’t mean he deserved a “happy ending,” finding solace and belonging in death. He was a ruthless murderer, and a particularly violent and psychologically disturbed one at that. His delusional belief that he was helping children, coupled with a complete lack of remorse for his victims, is not a romantic declaration of a good heart gone astray; it is a clear manifestation of sociopathic and psychotic tendencies. The narrative’s decision to grant him this peaceful resolution, to frame his death as a liberation into a community, sends a deeply troubling message about accountability and justice within the world of American Horror Story. It suggests that profound suffering in life can absolve even the most heinous acts in death, an unsettling implication when contrasted with the fate of other characters.

Edward Mordrake’s Glaring Double Standard: Deriding Elsa’s Delusion While Celebrating Twisty’s Own

The stark contrast between how Twisty’s backstory was received and how Elsa Mars’s was judged by Edward Mordrake is perhaps the most egregious narrative oversight. Elsa (Jessica Lange), the ambitious and enigmatic proprietor of Fraulein Elsa’s Cabinet of Curiosities, suffered an unspeakable trauma. At the height of her career as a dominatrix and aspiring performer, she was drugged, assaulted, and nearly killed when her legs were forcefully amputated for a brutal snuff film. Her “crime” was consenting to participate in what she believed was a legitimate pornographic film, only to be gruesomely betrayed and dismembered. This was a profound act of violation, a horrifying event that left her physically and emotionally scarred for life. Her current perceived “crimes” are merely living in a state of mild delusion, an all-consuming desire for stardom, and a somewhat manipulative approach to her troupe of “freaks.”

Elsa’s primary transgressions are not rooted in violence or malice towards others, but rather in a desperate pursuit of fame and a belief in her own exceptionalism. Sure, she harbors grand ambitions of becoming a Hollywood star, a dream that often blinds her to the realities of her situation. Yes, she believes herself to be superior to her troupe of performers, often treating them as means to an end. However, and this is crucial, she has not killed anyone (at least, not that the audience is aware of), nor has she committed acts of widespread terror. Her actions, though sometimes selfish and self-serving, are a far cry from Twisty’s reign of terror. It is difficult not to conclude that the show, through Edward Mordrake’s judgment, punishes Elsa disproportionately for being a woman with a complicated past as a sex worker and for her unwavering, if delusional, ambition. This suggests a subtle, yet insidious, form of victim-blaming embedded within the narrative, where her trauma and her chosen profession are implicitly held against her.

The moral inconsistency is truly baffling. Edward, the supposed arbiter of souls, gravely derided Elsa for her “delusion,” condemning her ambition and self-deception as unforgivable flaws. Yet, he wept for and ultimately celebrated Twisty’s own far more dangerous and violent delusions, granting him peace and belonging. Isn’t that profoundly messed up? While Edward himself is a figure from folklore, a cautionary tale of vanity and duality, the narrative’s choice to present him as a benevolent reaper with a soft spot for tragic backstories — and then to have him exhibit such a blatant double standard — undermines any sense of moral clarity. The show projects Edward not as inherently evil, but as a sympathetic, albeit melancholic, judge of character. This makes his biased judgment even more unsettling, implying that the narrative itself endorses this unequal treatment.

The consequences of this double standard are further amplified as the season progresses. Now that “Richard” (Denis O’Hare), the nefarious talent scout from Los Angeles, has entered the scene, Elsa’s future looks grim. He will undoubtedly exploit Elsa’s desperate ambition, eventually leading to the horrific fate of her beloved “freaks” being sold and dissected for profit. Elsa is seemingly destined to be continually punished by the show for her “crime” of being hopelessly deluded and self-centered, a stark contrast to Twisty, who, despite his atrocities, received a comforting, almost idyllic, happy ending in the afterlife. Her yearning for stardom, a coping mechanism for her past trauma and a desperate bid for self-worth, is painted as a cardinal sin.

Elsa, overwhelmed by her despair and the weight of her existence, desperately begged for death at Edward’s hands, seeking the same release and peace Twisty received. She was emphatically denied, forced to continue her torment and face a future of betrayal and further suffering. Meanwhile, Twisty, the child-killer, was welcomed into a community of kindred spirits, finding friends for his (un)life, finally free from his tormentors and his own madness. This narrative choice leaves a bitter taste, highlighting a profound imbalance in how suffering, ambition, and criminality are handled within the series.

It is highly unlikely that this egregious double standard, this striking contrast between the fates of a murderous clown and a traumatized, ambitious woman, will ever be truly addressed or reconciled by American Horror Story. The show, while brilliant in many aspects, often sacrifices moral consistency for shock value or dramatic effect, and in this particular instance, the consequences for its characters – and its audience – are deeply troubling. The implication that a tragic past can somehow mitigate the severity of monstrous actions, while personal ambition and past exploitation lead to unending suffering, is a difficult pill to swallow for many viewers.

HollywoodLifers, I turn the question to you. Do you agree with my assessment of this narrative imbalance? Or do you believe that Twisty was indeed redeemed, and his peaceful end justified by his tragic backstory? Do you find it problematic that American Horror Story: Freak Show appears to canonize a murderous clown while seemingly vilifying a woman who endured profound violation and whose coping mechanisms, while flawed, were relatively harmless to others compared to Twisty’s actions? Share your thoughts and let me know your perspective in the comments below. Let’s discuss the complex moral landscape of this unforgettable season of AHS.

— Amanda Michelle Steiner
Follow @AmandaMichl

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