There are few figures in the universe of true crime who have commanded more public attention than Charles Manson. Making Manson, a new docuseries set to debut on Peacock on Nov. 19, has the unenviable task of trying to make a well-known figure seem new again. Director Billie Mintz, who has already directed a number of feature documentaries, was ready for the challenge.
In the email interview below, Mintz discusses why he was interested in Manson, the brand new recordings of Manson that make up the backbone of the series, and the ways that Manson became a symbol of the entire ’60s.
What made you interested in revisiting a story that has been so well chronicled? What drew you to this story, to begin with?
I was drawn to this story because it’s layered with complexities that are often overlooked in favor of a simpler, sensationalized narrative. What fascinates me is the idea that much of what we think we know about Charles Manson is shaped by conjecture and myth-making. The Manson we’ve come to know is a “collective Manson,” an image pieced together by media, pop culture, and speculation over decades. When the producers at Renowned Films approached me about “Making Manson,” I realized that directing this project meant pushing past that constructed image to examine the realities that might be hidden underneath—a journey that challenges not only the accepted version of Manson but also the way we understand the stories we’ve been told.
Did anything that you learned surprise you?
One of the most surprising aspects was hearing Manson’s own unfiltered voice in conversations that spanned over twenty years. These aren’t performances or interviews; they’re candid discussions with someone he trusted, providing a rare glimpse into his thought processes. What I found particularly surprising was Manson’s almost childlike view of logic and responsibility. He didn’t seem to grasp his own culpability in the way we would expect, which raises questions about his intent and his understanding of morality. It’s a perspective that disrupts the usual villain archetype and invites a more nuanced examination of his actions.
One of the things that surprised me most was Manson’s own admission about his now-iconic beard. The image of Manson as the bearded cult leader is everywhere, yet before the murders that made him infamous, he never even had a beard. After his arrest, authorities refused to give him a razor, so the first time the public saw him, he had grown out his beard—and this look went on to define him in the mythos surrounding him. This detail struck me as especially insightful in light of what we explore in the series: how so much of Manson’s image was constructed for the public, often in ways that aren’t entirely true.
Another surprising revelation is that despite the narrative that led to Manson’s conviction for ordering the murders—despite not being at the crime scenes—there was actually no testimony during his trial that he had given such an order. No one directly heard him instruct his followers to kill, nor did anyone testify to that effect. It was only later, after Manson was already convicted during Tex Watson’s own trial, that Watson claimed Manson had ordered him to commit the murders. But given that Watson was the one who carried out the killings, it raises serious questions about the reliability of his statement. Should we take his word for it, especially when he was the one who did all the killing? This aspect forces us to reconsider the foundation of the story that has been accepted for decades.
What do you think makes Manson so endlessly compelling, both to his followers and to people still obsessed with him?
The figure of Manson is compelling because he embodies something enigmatic and cryptic—qualities that have been amplified through decades of media portrayal. Much of this mystique comes from Manson’s own way of speaking in riddles and refusing to conform to societal expectations, which allowed others to project their own fears or fascinations onto him. His persona became a canvas for the anxieties of the times, particularly in the 1960s, when society was first grappling with the idea of manipulative leaders. In many ways, Manson’s story is not just about him but about the fears and narratives we create as a society when confronted with the unknown. You never really forget your first cult leader, and for society, Manson was the first. His story marked a collective trauma, embedding itself deeply into the public psyche. Once that kind of fear and fascination takes hold, it’s hard to shake—it lingers, shaping perceptions for generations. Manson became a symbol of something dark and terrifying, and the impact of that first encounter with such a figure has stayed with us, leaving an imprint that is difficult to erase.
Do you sympathize with the folks who fell under his spell?
Our series re-examines the notion of “followers” or people being “under a spell,” concepts that are part of the Manson myth but often oversimplify a much more complex situation. The individuals connected to Manson weren’t enchanted or hypnotized in a literal sense; rather, they were often vulnerable, already struggling with personal issues and searching for a sense of purpose. Manson’s influence on them wasn’t calculated manipulation but stemmed from a flawed, almost childlike view of responsibility and morality that he projected onto those around him. In this way, the series aims to dispel the idea of “followers” under a “spell,” offering a perspective that highlights the deeper psychological and human elements at play.
Ultimately, the story reveals Manson as a tragic figure himself, someone shaped by a lifetime of abuse, abandonment, and incarceration. This doesn’t diminish his responsibility, but it does provide context for how he interacted with others. It’s a story that asks viewers to consider the complexities of everyone involved, questioning not only Manson’s role but also how societal narratives turn people into larger-than-life figures, often at the expense of nuanced understanding.
Making Manson points toward the notion that this is an origin story—why did you frame it that way?
Framing it as an origin story is an invitation to explore how narratives are created and perpetuated. When Manson was thrust into the public eye, society had no concept of the “cult leader” as we think of it today. This story represents the birth of that archetype, and the lens through which we view it says as much about society as it does about Manson himself. By revisiting these early impressions, we’re able to question how narratives take shape and who holds the power in defining them. It’s a call to recognize the role that myth and sensationalism play in constructing the figures we remember.
The title *Making Manson* serves a dual purpose: it delves into the forces and events that shaped Manson himself, exploring his history to understand what led him to become the person he was. But the name also has a double meaning, highlighting how the story of “Manson” was crafted by those who have been telling it for the past fifty years, shaping, and even inventing, much of the narrative we know today. This film confronts both Manson’s personal history and the storytellers who built his legend, challenging the narratives they’ve perpetuated.
What do you think Manson’s story said about the ’60s? What does it say about today?
Manson’s story was a mirror reflecting the turbulence and shifting values of the 1960s—a time when traditional beliefs were being questioned, and people were exploring new forms of freedom and self-expression. Society wasn’t yet familiar with the idea of manipulative figures leading disillusioned youth, and the countercultural movement became a fertile ground for unconventional, often dangerous dynamics. Today, the story serves as a reminder of the power of narrative and the ease with which a figure can be transformed into an icon or a villain based on societal needs and fears. It’s a lesson in the importance of questioning dominant narratives and seeking out the full picture, especially in an age where information is so easily shaped and shared.
