Death by Lightning: Macfadyen and Shannon Star in Netflix’s Haunting Garfield Assassination Drama

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Nov, 7 2025

On November 6, 2025, Netflix dropped Death by Lightning, a meticulously crafted historical drama that turns the forgotten tragedy of President James A. Garfield’s assassination into a slow-burning, emotionally devastating thriller. Starring Matthew Macfadyen as the quiet, principled president and Michael Shannon as the delusional assassin Charles J. Guiteau, the series doesn’t just recount history—it makes you feel every second of its unbearable weight. The 11-week ordeal between Garfield’s shooting on July 2, 1881, and his death on September 19, 1881, isn’t just the plot—it’s the heartbeat of the show.

A President Who Never Got to Lead

James A. Garfield was the 20th president of the United States, a former Union general and self-taught scholar who rose from poverty to the White House. His election in 1880 was a quiet triumph, a repudiation of the corrupt spoils system that had dominated politics since the Civil War. But his presidency lasted just 200 days. Death by Lightning doesn’t rush to the shooting. Instead, it lingers in the corridors of power, showing how Garfield’s refusal to hand out patronage jobs alienated powerful senators, including Bradley Whitford’s sharp-tongued Senator Blaine. The series makes clear: Guiteau wasn’t just a madman. He was a product of a system that rewarded entitlement over merit.

The Assassin and the Actor Who Played Him

Michael Shannon delivers a performance that lingers like smoke in a closed room. As Guiteau, he’s not a cartoon villain—he’s a man who believes he’s been promised the consulship in Paris, that he’s owed a place in history, that God has chosen him to purge the government. Shannon’s eyes never blink. He smiles while whispering threats. The show gives him scenes alone in his cell, reciting poetry to the walls, and it’s chilling—not because he’s evil, but because he’s so utterly convinced he’s righteous. Matthew Macfadyen, meanwhile, plays Garfield with a stillness that speaks volumes. You see the pain in his face when doctors probe his wound with unsterilized fingers, but he never screams. He just keeps reading. It’s a quiet heroism that makes his death feel like a national betrayal.

Medical Malpractice as the Real Killer

The most harrowing part of the series isn’t the gunshot. It’s what happens after. Doctor Willard Bliss, portrayed with cold authority by Nick Offerman, refuses to let other doctors near Garfield. He dismisses antiseptic practices as “French nonsense.” He probes the wound with unclean instruments, searching for the bullet—again and again. The show doesn’t shy away from the grotesque: the fever, the pus, the slow decay. And it’s here that Death by Lightning becomes more than political drama—it becomes a medical horror story. History confirms: Garfield didn’t die from the bullet. He died because doctors didn’t wash their hands. The series nails this. But it also stumbles—by making Bliss a background figure, a minor nuisance rather than the central villain he was.

What the Critics Got Right—and Wrong

On IMDb, the show holds a 7.8/10 from over 550 users. One viewer, 7kzauner, complained about the “excessive profanity,” arguing it breaks historical realism. Fair point. But another, 8tkdlifemagazine, called it “great theater,” praising the ensemble: Betty Gilpin as Garfield’s sharp-witted wife Lucretia, and Bradley Whitford as the scheming senator who could’ve been a president himself. The production design? Gorgeous. The costumes? Impeccable. The lighting? Soft, almost painterly—intentionally romanticized, as the YouTube reviewer noted, to contrast the brutality beneath.

But the show’s biggest flaw? Its surface-level treatment of race. The Reconstruction Era was a time of violent backlash against Black voters, yet Death by Lightning barely acknowledges it. There’s a single scene where a Black janitor watches Garfield’s funeral procession from the shadows. That’s it. No dialogue. No context. For a series that otherwise prides itself on political nuance, this omission is jarring.

Why This Matters Now

It’s no accident that Death by Lightning arrived in 2025. In an era of political polarization, conspiracy theories, and leaders who believe they’re above the law, Guiteau’s logic feels disturbingly familiar. “I did it for the country,” he says, just before his hanging. Sound like anyone you know? The show doesn’t need to spell it out. The parallels are there, whispering in the background like the ticking of a pocket watch in a quiet hospital room.

Netflix, headquartered at 100 Winchester Circle, Los Gatos, California, hasn’t released viewership numbers yet—but given the buzz, it’s likely to be a major contender in the 2026 Emmy race. The writing by Mike Makowsky, known for Bad Education, is razor-sharp. The direction by Matt Ross, fresh off Captain Fantastic, is deliberate, patient, and devastating.

Garfield’s death led to the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act of 1883, which finally began dismantling the spoils system. But it came too late for him. And for the country.

Frequently Asked Questions

How accurate is the portrayal of Dr. Willard Bliss in 'Death by Lightning'?

The series portrays Bliss as dismissive of antiseptic practices, which aligns with historical records. He was indeed the lead physician and refused to allow other doctors to examine Garfield, even after multiple infections set in. Historical accounts confirm he probed the wound with unsterilized instruments and ignored advice from European-trained surgeons. His actions directly contributed to Garfield’s death—making him, in many ways, the real assassin.

Why did Charles Guiteau believe he deserved a government job?

Guiteau was a failed lawyer and con artist who wrote a pamphlet praising Garfield during the 1880 campaign, believing his support helped secure victory. He expected a consulship in Paris as a reward, a common practice under the spoils system. When denied, he spiraled into delusion, convinced God had ordered him to remove Garfield. His trial and execution in 1882 became a national spectacle, revealing deep flaws in how the government rewarded loyalty over competence.

Is the profanity in the series historically accurate?

No. While the show uses modern language for dramatic effect, 19th-century political elites, especially those like Garfield who were deeply religious and educated, rarely used strong profanity in public or private correspondence. The writers likely included it to emphasize tension and modernize the tone, but it does pull viewers out of the period—something several IMDb users noted as a misstep in historical authenticity.

Why was Garfield’s death so significant for American politics?

Garfield’s assassination exposed the deadly consequences of the spoils system, where government jobs were handed out as political favors. His death sparked public outrage and led directly to the 1883 Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act, which established competitive exams for federal positions. This marked the beginning of the modern U.S. civil service and ended the era of open patronage—making Garfield’s tragic end the catalyst for lasting institutional change.

What role did technology play in Garfield’s suffering?

Alexander Graham Bell invented a metal detector to locate the bullet lodged in Garfield’s body, but it failed because the bed’s metal springs interfered. Doctors ignored Bell’s device, opting instead for manual probing. Had the device been properly used, they might have found the bullet without causing further damage. This moment highlights how even cutting-edge technology was useless without proper medical understanding—and how arrogance overrode innovation.

Does the show address racism during Reconstruction?

Very minimally. While the series focuses on political corruption, it largely ignores the violent suppression of Black voters in the South, which was central to the era. The only Black character shown is a silent janitor in the White House. Given that Garfield was a staunch supporter of Black civil rights and that his death delayed federal protection for freedmen, this omission feels like a missed opportunity to deepen the show’s historical impact.