REVIEW: ‘Baby Reindeer’ Is A Brutal Portrait Of Self-Destruction

To compare anything to the Netflix drama, crime-thriller Baby Reindeer is reductive. There are elements of I May Destroy You and Fleabag — works that function as portraits of self-destruction with a comedian at the center. But, for better and worse, there is nothing quite like Baby Reindeer currently airing. An example of flaying oneself for art only to further demand finer cuts, the seven-episode series wounds with its empathetic depiction of trauma. It presses its fingers into the welts, leaving greater questions behind as we try and self-soothe the pain this series leaves in its wake.

Strongly heed the trigger warnings. Created by and starring Richard Gadd, the series bases itself on Gadd’s real-life experiences of being stalked by a woman and, before that, being sexually assaulted in his 20s. The episode detailing his sexual assault arrives in Episode 4 and is one of the most nauseating episodes on television in a long while. An adaptation of Gadd’s one-person show of the same name, the series allows for the creator to further expand on his story and how his own self-loathing had him keeping his trauma and pain to himself, all the while going through yet another ordeal of having his sense of safety and agency stripped from him.

Gadd plays Donny, a 20-something-year-old who works at a pub as a bartender while moonlighting as an aspiring comedian. His comedy leans into the avant-garde, resisting the typical delivery and give and take of other standups. He’s a prop comedy guy with wigs, wacky sunglasses, and chattering teeth. One day, while tending the bar, he meets Martha (Jessica Gunning) and makes her a cup of tea on the house in an act of self-reflective pity and empathy. That, he admits, is his first mistake.

And this is where the divide and power stems from Baby Reindeer. Gadd’s writing and Donny’s character see this moment as a mistake rather than a human inclination for empathetic kindness. Sure, he may have acted instinctually out of pity, but his assumptive actions shouldn’t beget the cruelty he faces due to it. Martha becomes a staple at the bar. She never orders anything more than a soda, sitting, infatuated, and complimenting Donny with a restless, off-kilter energy. He’s put off and wary of her affections, but her comments also help ease the insecurities he carries about himself.

Of course, it quickly deviates from any semblance of a harmless crush into something more sinister. She gets ahold of his email and messages him countless times throughout the day. She shows up at his comedy shows and harasses ex and present lovers. She calls his parents and threatens sexual and bodily harm. Yet Gadd is relentless in maintaining her humanity. He believes she, too, is a victim. A repeat offender of stalking, the show makes sure to depict the ineptitude of law enforcement as she’s constantly given a slap on the wrist without ever being presented with the help she needs. She isn’t well; Donny can see that.

However, as viewers, we greatly empathize with Donny and cringe when he does anything that emboldens Martha, even when it isn’t his fault. Gadd is tremendous in this role, constantly heartbreaking. The series’ direction makes sure to cast him in shadows continually. He stands rigid and worn, with the world weighing him down, his voice-over narration drowning in toxic self-hatred. His healing is a journey of one step forward and one giant leap back. Each time we believe he’s realized he’s the victim with no caveat or blame necessary to weather, he delivers an eviscerating line that showcases just how deep his contempt for himself goes.

Baby Reindeer is a consistently difficult watch. No more so than Episode 4, which details his sexual assault at the hands of a man in the entertainment business who grooms him and gets him addicted to hard drugs. Shot like a horror film, it’s one of the most miserable, haunting episodes in recent memory. And, crucially, it speaks to why Donny is so reluctant to go to the police and his current entanglement with Martha. He’s caught in a cycle of self-destruction, the brutal assault he faced, and his silence over it informs how he approaches and sees the world.

Dealing with sexuality, mental health, and abuse, Baby Reindeer is a dark thriller that picks away at the human psyche. That it finds any humor at all is a herculean feat, but Gadd accomplishes it with some well-timed visual gags and Donny’s sardonic quips. The writing loses some of its taut pull in the fifth episode as it deals more with Donny’s relationship with his girlfriend, which could’ve used more time to develop. Regardless, most of the series is written with a deft hand that offers a sturdy foundation for our emotionally brittle characters to stumble across.

Gunning delivers a superb, towering performance of a woman so good at masquerading it’s easy to believe she’s fooled herself, too. Imbuing Martha with either ferocious rage or childlike vulnerability, her character is as heartbreaking as she is terrifying. Her physicality and facial tics create a character of such fullness that it’s easy to see why Donny would both empathize with her and recoil when she stepped foot in the bar.

Baby Reindeer is difficult to recommend. The Netflix series is an exhausting, intimate, and brutalistic examination of the human condition. With an ambiguous ending that refuses to give us the easy answers or hold our hands through the ideal concept of a healing journey, it manages to suck the air out of the room. It’s devastating; it’s vulnerable to the point of voyeurism. Gadd creates something tangibly horrific but does so with just the right amount of humanism so that, despite the direness, we hope for light at the end of the story, even if it seems so far out of reach.

Baby Reindeer Season 1 is available now on Netflix.