It's
been the trendiest of water cooler discussion topics of late, and I'm
now equipped to participate: I recently finished watching all 10
episodes of Netflix's documentary series, Making a Murderer. If you're
one of the few who hasn't at least heard of it, the documentary
chronicles the story of Steven Avery, a man who spent 18 years in prison
for a crime he did not commit, only to be freshly accused of a murder
soon after his exoneration and release.
Laura
Ricciardi and Moira Demos are the dynamic duo behind this documentary,
and they've created something compulsively watchable, the sort of
binge-worthy experience that is Netflix's bread and butter. Through its
editing, Making a Murderer brings narrative conventions of episodic
drama to the telling of a real-life story. So it's no surprise how
compelling it is. You have sympathetic protagonists and detestable
antagonists. You have plot twists and reversals, highs and lows. Each
episode ends with a cliffhanger that leaves you eager to know what will
happen next. This is addictive television. You could argue that there's
something a bit ghoulish in mining real people's lives for
entertainment, but I personally don't find Making a Murderer
exploitative in the manner of, say, most reality television. Ricciardi
and Demos are simply presenting their documentary in the most lively and
engaging way they can.
But
then, exploitation is hardly at the forefront of the accusations some
people are leveling at the two filmmakers. A quick Google search will
quickly drown you in articles cataloging the evidence they chose to
leave out, decrying their manipulative framing of the story, and more.
Personally, I don't think of news reporters and documentarians as
equivalent. It's the job of the former to relate objective truth; it's
the job of the latter to present a compelling story or argument. Some
documentary makers choose to strike as neutral a tone as possible, but I
don't see that as a requirement. (Indeed, I think it often leads to a
rather boring documentary.)
Yet
the fact that so many people are focused on this issue of "omitted
facts of the case" is the foundation of one criticism I think could be
fairly leveled at the filmmakers: they don't quite make the point they
set out to make. Ricciardi and Demos have been giving a lot of
interviews lately, and they always try to divert focus away from the
question of Steven Avery's guilt or innocence. Instead, they note that
their larger point is about the flaws of the criminal justice system in
the United States. And there is plenty in the documentary that speaks to
this: that so many people involved in the process are pressured to
pursue incarcerations rather than truth, that the poor are horribly
disadvantaged in a courtroom compared to the wealthy, and more. The
documentary does hit these points. It just doesn't hit them with nearly
the effectiveness as the coverage of Avery's case in particular.
There's
no voice of a narrator in Making a Murderer, and while this is a
directorial choice that's incredibly effective at pulling the audience
in rather than keeping them at arm's distance, it may also be the reason
for this confusion. So many people are walking away from the series not
asking the questions about justice in general that Ricciardi and Demos
would have them ask; instead, absent a voice from on high to guide the
viewer's thoughts, many are coalescing around Steven Avery. The major
question is not meant to be "is Steven Avery guilty?" but rather, "is
this an acceptable method by which a person can be found guilty?" I
think the documentary answers that question with a clear and loud "no,"
but is not as clear about extrapolating that answer to the system at
large. So as a targeted think piece or call to action, you could argue
that Making a Murderer misses its intended mark.
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