Photo: Ed Miller/Netflix
Starting a crime-drama show that is based on a true story can be tricky. You have to decide: Do you want to know what happens in the end, or do you want to be surprised? (Maybe even horrified?) On the one hand, it can feel comforting to know what’s going to happen and what you can expect, but on the other, there’s an element of thrilling excitement if you don’t spoil things for yourself. Humanity — or the lack thereof — can surprise you if you let it.
That’s particularly true with Baby Reindeer, a new Netflix series based on actor-creator Richard Gadd’s real-life trauma. First performed as a piece of theatre in an autobiographical stage play at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2019, Baby Reindeer is the kind of story that invites further exploration. The miniseries adaptation dropped earlier this month on Netflix, and already there are countless stories online asking, “Is Baby Reindeer a real story?” and “Who is the real woman in Baby Reindeer?” There’s good reason for the curiosity. Even in its premiere episode, the show presents some wild questions, whether they’re about stalker Martha’s backstory or Donny Dunn’s willingness to invite her in.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Baby Reindeer’s first episode opens in a police station with Donny attempting to report being stalked. The officer on duty seems skeptical. He asks whether Donny has had a sexual relationship with the woman stalking him and then, once Donny offers up that it’s taken him six months to report her stalking, he asks, “Why did it take you so long to report it?”
That’s presumably what we’ll find out. As Baby Reindeer gets further into the episode, it becomes clear that the story is not just about a crazy stalker (thankfully) but also about Donny’s quest for acceptance and recognition. It’s an interesting parallel to when he first meets Martha, played by the excellent Jessica Gunning. When she walks into the pub where he works, Donny tells us via voice-over that he “felt sorry for her,” perhaps because she looked a little sad, but also perhaps because she was a little heavy or odd-looking. It’s arrogant and condescending, but we’re supposed to think that it’s also kind of nice, especially when he gives her a cup of tea on the house since, as she says, she can’t afford anything.
It’s odd that she can’t afford anything since Martha quickly tells Dunn that she’s a lawyer, working as a leading advisor to people like David Cameron, Nick Clegg, and Tony Blair, all of whom appear in the address book on her candy-bar phone. Dunn is skeptical — because who wouldn’t be? — but he humors her because, as he thinks, what’s the harm?
Martha keeps returning to the bar, sporting new makeup, new hairstyles, and different outfits. She comes with stories about people Donny’s never met and a big, jolly laugh. Everything about Martha intrigues Donny, who says he admires her endless confidence. (Or is it delusion?) He also loves the way she can spin phrases into poetry, like “Some people run away by packing their bags. Some people run away by standing in the same place for too long.” That’s some profound shit, man.
That’s why Donny plays along with Martha, telling her jokes and laying down some random flattery. The assholes that work at the bar with him put him on the spot about it, too, attempting to make fun of him for even talking to a woman who’s not a perfect ten. She doesn’t seem too massively affected by it, which is shocking, but he does, which says more about him than it does about her. She’s got a probably delusional amount of self-confidence, whereas he’s not man enough to chat up whoever he wants, bar bros be damned.
It’s through that exchange, though, that he agrees to go on a picnic with Martha, which then turns into a coffee after Donny, faced with Martha’s very expensive picnic basket, says that “picnics are what lovers do,” and they’re just friends. All of this, mind you, is after we learn that Martha has found Donny’s email and is now sending him 80 or so emails a day, continuing late into the night. They come from an email address that’s a random string of letters and numbers, and they’re full of weird misspellings and iPhone references, even though she doesn’t have one. And while he asks her later, at coffee, how she got his email address, he doesn’t seem to address the text or frequency of the emails, nor does he ever respond.
He also never really turns away her sexual innuendos or come-ons. That’s not to say that he deserves to get stalked (no one does), but there is an element of what’s to come that feels cruel, like he led poor Martha on; as if he knew what he was doing. She’s clearly not all there. We get a clear picture of that at the coffee shop and when we peek into her home later, but something is missing in Donny, too. In Martha, Donny has an audience for how he wants to be perceived — someone who will help him achieve the self-confidence he so sorely lacks. Through her oddness and affection, she gives him someone to talk to and a sympathetic ear at his comedy shows. Ribbing her gets him laughs, and she’s willing — and unaware enough — to be the butt of the jokes.
All of that is to say that it is just a little bit sweet when Martha tells Donny that, if she could have any superpower, she’d want to be able to zip someone open from head to toe so that she could step into their body all snug and secure. There are weird serial-killer vibes there, to be sure, but there’s also something a little sentimental about it, like when you meet someone you just want to be around all the time. In an ideal situation, the person you admire isn’t a sociopath, but you hope they like you back either way.
And that’s why, even after Martha tells Donny she loves him (“As a friend! Like you said!”), he still considers accepting her Facebook friend request. He waffles, naturally, prompting a quick Google search for “Martha Scott lawyer” that yields a shocking series of articles about how she’s been disbarred after stalking her former boss and making wild allegations about his family and how she even went to prison for the whole thing. But even knowing that, Donny accepts the friend request because she likes and sees him. And God knows what she’ll do if he doesn’t try and see her right back.
• Donny says he thinks about “the school balls no one took [Martha] to” and the “wedding dresses she tried on for fun.” Laying the sad-fat-woman tropes on a little thick, bro! Who’s to say she hasn’t had a full, interesting life? (We know that she hasn’t, but she could have.)
• The song that Martha sings is “Somethin’ Stupid,” by Frank Sinatra, in case you’re wondering.
• Is it just me, or does Richard Gadd have kind of a bootleg British Gael García Bernal thing going on?
