If you’re looking for something to watch while waiting at
home until it’s time to go to Heathrow for your evening flight to Cape Town,
nervous about your first trip to Africa, apprehensive about the eleven and a half
hours in economy, worried about having to wait around Cape Town airport for
your next two-hour flight to Pietermaritzburg and suddenly regretting your
decision to go alone, don’t watch Making
A Murderer. Going through an airport
is tense enough. What have you
forgotten? Did you accidentally pack an incendiary
device in your hand luggage? Where is
your passport? What if the Tube train
gets stuck and you miss the flight?
While Netflix bingeing can
provide a welcome escape from these tedious stressors in life, Making A
Murderer will only amplify them as it turns the screw episode by irresistible
episode until you’re terrified ever to leave the house again.
But yes, it’s a documentary and we’ve not really covered one
of them before. This means it’s all true
and about real things and doesn’t contain any attractive acting talent. The story begins way back in the eighties and
takes us right up to 2015 when the show first appeared on Netflix. Steven Avery is at the
heart of goings on, and these goings on revolve around a number of crimes he is
accused of and whether he actually did them.
I can’t say more without giving away too much of the storyline’s tension
– episode one draws you straight in so go and click play immediately and that
will save me the time of regurgitating what happens.
Our setting is Wisconsin, so we’re talking Fargo country here. We have the accents, which charm throughout,
and we also have lots of wistful shots of various buildings relating to law
enforcement covered in snow. But there’s
nothing sexy about this. In fact, the name of the county most of this took
place in, Manitowoc, is perhaps one of the sexiest things in the whole
series. It’s a fun word to say and conjures
up all sorts of imagery of the American wilderness. Now let’s compare this to the name of the
equivalent local government I grew up in here in the UK: Mole Valley. Even the unsexy parts of the USA are sexier
than England.
Anyway, the key point here is that this documentary will
reel you in quickly and then not let you go until there’s none left. Is it entertainment? In a sick way, yes. But it’s also deeply interesting and your
reaction will be strong – each episode compounds the galling effect of the
previous one. Later episodes show
highlights from hundreds of hours’ worth of real courtroom action, and the editing
gives it such pacing that you may doubt this isn’t a very realistic drama. Nevertheless, it’s not quite a romp to the
finish, as the trials’ endlessness is hard to avoid, but luckily I have watched
enough of How To Get Away With Murder to know
exactly what’s going on.
Criticism has been levelled that the programme only shows
one side of the story, and you won’t be able to escape wondering if you really
have been given the whole picture.
Prosecution lawyer, Ken
Kratz, doesn’t seem to be the type of man (or to have the type of haircut) that
anyone can trust, let alone twelve people on a jury, but it is gratifying to
know he was accused of sexting female clients later on. Indeed, Kratz as a physical specimen is at
the very heart of the show’s unsexiness.
But lo, we are shown the press conferences that took place
after each part of the trial. Among the
journalists, there is a surprise handsome individual. We began to refer to him as sexy journalist. To his left and right are buck teeth, bad
hair, double chins and doughy complexions.
Never have matinée idol looks seemed so out of placed. While Ken Kratz oozes slime, this guy gives
you appearance goals like you’ve never expected: silver fox hair and a jawline
carved from granite. It’s like a bit of
Hollywood has been dropped into Manitowoc accidentally.
So when should you watch something so harrowing? Save it for when you get back from the most amazing
trip to South Africa, for when you need to decompress yourself from the
sunshine and relaxation so that you can again reacclimatise to the cold, the
wet, and the awful people getting in your way on public transport because they
can’t tear their eyes away from their smartphones. After all, at least you’re not in prison.
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