TL;DR: Nocturne on Apple TV is a slow-burn psychological thriller powered by Stephen Graham’s terrifyingly restrained serial killer. Strong performances from Zazie Beetz and Rory Culkin keep it gripping, even as thin supporting roles leave it feeling slightly hollow.
Some villains announce themselves with explosions, capes or a monologue about the inevitability of their plan. Jurek Walter, the convicted multiple murderer at the heart of Apple TV’s new 10-part psychological thriller Nocturne, mostly just sits still, and that is somehow far worse. Stephen Graham plays him as a coiled, muscle-heavy presence locked in the lowest level of Riverside psychiatric hospital in Pittsburgh, a man serving life who still seems to be the one holding every key. He does push-ups, hides contraband behind his toilet for reasons the show keeps to itself, and talks to other inmates through the pipes with consequences that are genuinely chilling. Graham barely raises his voice, yet every whisper and every sudden, high-pitched giggle lands like a jump scare without any of the cheap tricks. I came away convinced this is one of the most unnerving screen killers in years, and the Nocturne cast mostly orbits around that gravitational pull.
What makes the performance work is restraint. Graham understands that Walter’s real weapon is attention, the way he studies people until he finds the soft spot and then leans on it with terrifying patience. His crimes are defined by drawing out suffering, punishing families as much as victims, and the actor channels that cruelty into stillness rather than theatrics. It is the opposite of the scenery-chewing serial killer archetype that horror fans have seen a hundred times. If you have ever played Outlast or wandered the cells of Arkham Asylum and felt more dread from the quiet rooms than the loud ones, you will recognise exactly the energy Graham brings to every scene.
A cold case, a missing child and a premise built on doubt
The Nocturne story kicks off when Michael Frost (Landon Valentin), one of two children Walter was suspected of abducting and killing, walks out of the woods alive after three years. His sister Felicia is still missing, and the detective who ran the original investigation, Jonah Lynn (Liev Schreiber), drags himself out of retirement to figure out where he went wrong. Lynn is a man carrying a tower of grief, having lost his wife and son in an accident and his partner to suicide. Schreiber plays him as weathered and stubborn, and the series keeps you guessing whether his loss makes him dangerously reckless or simply relentless. That tension gives the investigation a personal undercurrent beyond the usual procedural box-ticking.
When police start to suspect that Walter smuggled out instructions for an accomplice to release Michael, the plan becomes as bold as it is ill-advised. Saga (Zazie Beetz), an FBI agent and the daughter of Lynn’s late partner, volunteers to go undercover as a patient at Riverside, much to Lynn’s horror. Her history with a mother who spent years institutionalised becomes a tool she uses to survive, from hiding medication to getting herself transferred to the basement next to Walter. It is a deliciously nasty setup, essentially a cat-and-mouse game where the cat is chained up and the mouse volunteered for the cage.
Zazie Beetz and Rory Culkin carry the psychological tug of war
Beetz is excellent at selling the slow erosion of certainty, playing someone who has to act unhinged while desperately protecting what is left of her own stability. The show raises uncomfortable questions about whether anyone can survive a dehumanising system with their identity intact, and Beetz wears that pressure without overplaying it. Her scenes opposite Graham crackle because neither character can afford to show the other their real hand. It feels like watching two chess players who both suspect the board is rigged.
Rory Culkin offers a different flavour of vulnerability as Karl, a young, inexperienced nurse who ignores every warning from colleagues about the man downstairs. Walter has a gift for making people pity him, and watching Karl slide from sympathy to sharing personal details and carrying messages is painful in the best way. Culkin plays him with a soft-hearted naivety that makes you want to shout at the screen like a horror audience yelling at someone heading into the basement. It is a smart counterpoint to Saga, showing what happens when someone walks into Walter’s orbit without armour.
Nocturne’s slow-burn pacing is both its strength and its weakness
Rowan Joffé adapts the series from two books in Lars Kepler’s Joona Linna series, written by husband-and-wife duo Alexander Ahndoril and Alexandra Coelho Ahndoril. Fans of Scandi noir will recognise the deliberate rhythm, the frosty mood and the preference for creeping unease over constant shocks. The relocation to Pittsburgh works surprisingly well, giving the material a grey, institutional American texture reminiscent of Mindhunter’s interview rooms. Patience is rewarded here, but anyone expecting a twist every ten minutes may find the pace tests them.
The bigger issue is focus. By keeping the spotlight locked on Walter’s present-day influence, Nocturne leaves the wider wreckage of his crimes underexplored, and some characters feel sketched rather than lived in. Bill Camp as the strained police chief and Chrissy Metz as the Frost children’s mother both deliver moving work, yet they hint at an emotional richness the series rarely pauses to develop. Several twists feel like they could have been traded for more time with the people left behind, and as the season progresses the show starts to feel a touch hollower than its early episodes promise. It is never dull, but it sometimes mistakes plot momentum for emotional weight.
Verdict
This Nocturne series review comes down to one name, and it is Stephen Graham. His Jurek Walter is a genuinely haunting creation, quiet, intelligent and frightening in a way that sticks to you long after the credits roll. Beetz, Culkin and Schreiber give the story a strong human core, and the undercover premise delivers plenty of tense, claustrophobic thrills. The downsides are a narrow focus that leaves supporting characters underserved and a gradual sense that the show is less profound than it believes. Fans of Scandi noir, psychological thrillers and grounded horror should absolutely make room for it, especially as a Halloween binge, while viewers who need fast pacing or fully rounded ensembles may feel the drag.
