Bodkin review: The new Netflix limited series, executive produced by Barack and Michelle Obama, isn’t sure if it wants to be more like Only Murders in the Building or Broadchurch.
What made HBO’s The Jinx such an anomaly in the oversaturated world of true crime is that unlike the scores of other shows out there, it presented captive audiences with a conclusive ending. Gilbert Power, the podcaster at the centre of Netflix’s dark comedy miniseries Bodkin, understands that murky ambiguity is synonymous with the genre, and as much as people might crave them, neat endings are a rarity in the exploitative world of true crime. Which is why, when he lands up on the shores of a quaint Irish town to revisit a 25-year-old mystery — the disappearance of three people on Halloween night — he wants focus on ‘red herrings, diversions, human interest stuff’ instead of actually trying to solve it.
It’s probably no coincidence that the fictional town of Bodkin is situated in West Cork, the venue for one of the most enduring mysteries of our times — the unsolved murder of the socialite Sophie Toscan du Plantier. It had, as Gilbert might say, everything – colourful suspects, an ominous setting, and a glamourous victim. But despite checking all these boxes itself, Bodkin doesn’t make a reference to this case at all. And this, unfortunately, is its biggest problem. Created by Jez Scharf and executive produced by — wait for it — Barack and Michelle Obama, Bodkin is never quite able to decide if it wants to parody the true crime genre or offer a sincere representation of it.
This general confusion manifests itself in the form of Gilbert, played by Will Forte. The Saturday Night Live alum appears to have no clue what to do with the character, choosing ultimately to deliver both his earnestness and ineptitude with equal gusto. When Gilbert is first introduced to us, he is described as a ‘genius’. But he rarely displays any sort of instinct in his coverage of the case, routinely forgetting to turn on his microphone. Emmy Sizergh, the wet-behind-the-ears researcher who’s been assigned to assist Gilbert in his endeavour, can’t help but gush in his presence. The same cannot, however, be said for Dove Maloney, an investigative journalist with the Guardian, who is forced to join Gilbert in Bodkin while authorities in London look into her involvement in the death of a whistleblower.
Dove’s editor commands her to lay low for a bit, but she views the gig as a punishment posting. As played by Siobhán Cullen, Dove is perennially surly and openly disdainful of podcasting. The always upbeat Emmy, played by Robyn Cara, is meant to be her foil. But even though they’re both given bigger billing in the opening credits than Forte, he’s still the show’s protagonist. In initial episodes — there are seven in total — Gilbert comes across as a clueless American child, eager to witness banter in an Irish pub, whipping out his phone at the first sign of a nun, and surveying locals as a tourist might a monument. But as the show goes along at its meandering pace, it also takes the time to introduce Gilbert’s backstory.
He’s debt-ridden, in the middle of a divorce, and struggling to recapture the success of his breakout show — a tell-all confessional about his wife’s cancer diagnosis. His wife, much to Gilbert’s surprise, beat the cancer, and lived to resent him for monetising her misery. On paper, this is exactly the kind of black humour that you’d expect from a murder mystery set in rural Ireland. But in Bodkin, every idea, every line of dialogue, every human interaction lands with the inelegant thud of a town drunk tripping over his own shoelaces and onto the sticky bar floor.
“There are some questions that aren’t made to be answered,” one person whispers menacingly, perhaps to suggest that there’s a larger conspiracy at play here, one that involves every member of the close-knit community. Before long, the trio stumbles onto clues that lead them from one aimless subplot to another. An international drug smuggler is supposedly hiding in plain sight among the townsfolk; there is also a server farm on the outskirts of Bodkin operated by the local Elon Musk. In episode five, the show decides to introduce an eel smuggling operation. Several suspects die along the way. It’s all too much.
And after a point, you begin to wonder if Bodkin wants to be more like Only Murders in the Building or if it actually thinks of itself as a Broadchurch clone. The result is a tonal mishmash that never quite coalesces into a pleasing whole. The performances aren’t zany enough to provide a counterbalance to the show’s dourness, the writing isn’t as sharp as what we saw in Apple’s Bad Sisters, and chances are that the entire nation of Ireland might come out of this feeling like Kazakhstan did after the first Borat movie.
