Why ‘Baby Reindeer’ Rose to the Top

It may seem strange that as we approach the summer months, a TV show titled Baby Reindeer is one of the most watched, most talked-about shows in the country, but there’s a reason for that.

Currently boasting a 97 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes from critics, and more than 52.8 million viewing hours, Netflix’s binge model continues to dominate the way television is made, even as the two most important parts of storytelling—media literacy and narrative nuance—find themselves facing extinction.

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At its core, Baby Reindeer delves into the complexities of power dynamics, identity, and the blurred lines between reality and fiction. In the dramatized Netflix series, which began as a stage production at Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2019, writer/creator Richard Gadd stars as Donny, a comedian with a unique sense of humor, desperate to break into showbiz, who becomes the victim of stalking and sexual assault. The series recounts Gadd’s real-life encounter with a female stalker, exploring the psychological impact of being pursued and harassed. This intertwining of reality and fiction has allowed Gadd’s experience to intersect with larger conversations being held about those same power dynamics, consent, male sexual assault, and the myth of the “perfect victim.” These are nuanced topics rarely explored, but similarly perfected, in Michaela Coel’s Emmy-winning HBO limited series I May Destroy You.

From the moment we meet Donny, Gadd presents him as a weirdo whose jokes never quite land. Similar to compartmentalizing trauma, Donny keeps disparate elements of his personal life (being a barman and a comedian and a man who dates trans women) separate, much like the characters of the show who become catalysts to his breakdown, and the eventual unpacking of his long-buried trauma.

Donny, like many comedians (no offense), is enthralled with the attention of strangers, but what cements this story in a different category is that Donny’s encounters aren’t a series of things that happen to him, they are acts that he is a part of. In moments of self-reflection, Gadd’s voice-overs at the climax of several of the later episodes often remark, “I would love to tell you that’s as far as it went,” or recounting what he could have, or should have done. As the story develops, every occurrence seemingly reinforces the old adage of “no good deed goes unpunished.” Each string of events starts with an act of kindness, with each of the characters wanting to be seen for who they are, and how they present, when in their normal lives they’re used to being ignored, or othered. Yet each character—when they finally are seen—is viewed with a skewed lens and taken advantage of.

With Martha, played by the fantastic Jessica Gunning—who is not Scottish, but whose accent work deserves an Oscar, Grammy, Tony, BAFTA, and a Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Award—a chance meeting at a bar and a free cup of tea sets into motion a series of events and a push-and-pull of power dynamics. As Donny, Gadd realizes when all of his red flags should have shot up simultaneously, but instead he becomes both predator and prey in her deranged reality and obsessive half-truths, even stating “I felt sorry for her.” It’s important to remember Martha’s claims aren’t simply fabrications plucked out of thin air—most of them are based in reality, wrapped in self-important grandiosity and topped with a lot of delusion. She is a lawyer who worked for an important politician (who she then stalked, but that’s not the point until later!), but much to her chagrin, and to the detriment of her famous variants of “sent from my iPhone” email signature, she does not in fact have an iPhone. Another half-truth is her many mentions of being too busy to stay for a drink because of her work schedule. She ends up staying for Donny’s entire shift and, despite supposedly being a girlboss rubbing elbows with high-powered clients, when asked to pay for a cup of tea or a pint, she simply replies: “Can’t afford it.”

With Teri (Nava Mau), the first meeting is different. It isn’t by chance; Donny actively seeks her out. From the beginning, he lies to Teri—a trans woman he met on a trans dating app—telling her his name is Tony and that he’s a construction worker. Donny only agrees to meet her at a specific bar, at night, under the guise that it’s the best bar in the city—fast trickery for an unsuspecting American living abroad. Donny is preying on her vulnerability and marginalized identity. His inability to consummate a relationship with Teri is partly rooted in his shame and incapacity to understand his newfound sexual identity, which we uncover in Episode 4.

What happens in Episode 4 could be categorized as the real turning point, shown in heartbreaking honesty when Donny meets Darrien (Tom Goodman-Hill), a successful writer of one of his favorite TV shows, who says he sees promise in Donny and agrees to help him in his career. Darrien then coerces Donny to do drugs, and then gropes and rapes him repeatedly—what’s worse, Donny acknowledges he has been raped after the first instance, yet still goes back. Gadd positions himself—er, Donny—in such a lonely state of just wanting to be seen by someone, and while Donny knows that what he’s feeling and experiencing is wrong, Darrien’s praise is what keeps him coming back. For Donny, the idea that someone believes in him and is willing to give him constructive criticism is stronger than any of the drugs he takes, or the shame that he feels.

Later, everything comes to a head. After months of stalking and even being groped by Martha, Donny goes to the police to report Martha’s behavior—but not until six months later, and even when he does, he fails to mention Martha’s racist, transphobic, and verbally and physically abusive behavior during an event with Teri that Donny could have prevented; nor does he mention being assaulted by Darrien. In the aftermath of the series, viewers have removed the nuance from Gadd’s account and taken to searching for the identity of “Martha” and “Darrien” and others in the show, speculating on people in Gadd’s life even after he pleaded with them not to on social media.

True crime enthusiasts, while passionate about unraveling mysteries and the fascinating, darker aspects of human nature, can ignore nuanced storytelling by fixating on sensationalism. In their quest for thrilling revelations and shocking twists, some have speculated and made accusations about people in Gadd’s life, completely missing the point of the story. The allure of a sensational headline often takes precedence over the deeper exploration of the social, psychological, and ethical dimensions of storytelling as a catharsis, and, as a result, can lead some to come away with a shallow understanding of complex issues while reinforcing simplistic stereotypes.

Baby Reindeer became a hit because its nuanced storytelling enraptured the audience and transcended the confines of black-and-white narratives. The series existed in a gray area where complex truths and accountability intertwine. In its embrace, characters like Martha and Donny never became mere caricatures; they became mirrors reflecting complex issues, all while navigating moral ambiguity and fostering empathy and compassion.

Meecham Whitson Meriweather is a culture writer based in Brooklyn, whose work has appeared in Granta, Vulture, New York magazine, InStyle, The Daily Beast, and his newsletter Now That I Mention It, which you should already be subscribed to!