Who decides what is off-limits when it comes to creating true crime dramas?
I'm back!
I have decided that this blog will be sporadic, popping up from time to time to write something I'm interested in before dipping under the radar again. (Totally nothing to do with my lacklustre organisation skills.) Today I'm writing about the relationship between trauma and art in two recent pieces of media: the Hulu original TV series Only Murders in the Building and See How They Run, which seems to be advertised on every bus and billboard around. There will be spoilers for both in this piece, as well as spoilers for Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap, so consider yourself warned.
Both of these pieces are primarily spoofs of the murder-mystery genre, but both have criticisms to level at the use and abuse of real-life crime stories, examining the effect on the victims of the reworking and publicity of their life experiences. Only Murders is somewhat more successful than See How They Run, mainly due to the personal connection that the detectives have to the case.
Firstly, a small plot summary is in order. Only Murders' first series focuses on solving the murder of Tim Kono, a cold, isolated investment banker who lived in the opulent Arconia building. On the night of his death, three mismatched neighbours (Charles, Oliver and Mabel) are thrown together by a fire alarm and subsequent evacuation, and discover that they share a love of true-crime podcasts. On hearing of his demise, they begin to investigate his death, which police have declared as suicide but they believe is murder.
It is later revealed that, although Tim had no family ties in the city, he was a childhood friend of Mabel. (However, the two hadn't spoken in the ten years leading up to his death.) Upon this reveal, Charles and Oliver agree that it is best not to continue with the case, as they are using Mabel's trauma to create their podcast. Charles realises that "every true crime story is actually true for someone", questioning their, and their listeners', right to be involved in somebody's personal tragedy. Oliver's response "and this is just occurring to you?" reveals their own lack of awareness around the possibly damaging effects of their podcast. Furthermore, the statement is applicable to the wider world; with the ever-increasing popularity of true-crime podcasts, people are only just beginning to realise that there is an ethical aspect to the true-crime genre, as Only Murders and See How They Run reveal. The publicising and dissection of these stories may be very harmful to the victims and their relatives, or people with similar situations in their past. Charles and Oliver's realisation prompts them to shut the podcast down, as they believe it is the right thing to do. However, Mabel later decides that she wants to solve the case, as she needs to see it through. As Mabel is the only known person linked to Tim, and has given her consent to continue, this makes the podcast a more ethical project. (However, it is worth noting that Tim's family in Japan don't know about the podcast.)
Another aspect of true-crime ethics is the limits of inspiration. Mabel's trauma is once again put in the spotlight in Season 2, when a mysterious artist uses her past to create an art exhibition, without telling her. She claims that it is to help Mabel process the events, but the manner in which she arranges it is very suspicious and viewers see how it upsets Mabel. This raises the question of what is off-limits when it comes to creating art. Does it matter if it was made with good intentions, but capitalised off the trauma of another person? Charles, Mabel and Oliver has good intentions when they began investigating Tim's murder - they weren't looking to become famous, merely using the podcast as a way of documenting their investigation. However, they were also seeking to imitate their idol Cinda Canning, who had found fame through her true-crime podcasts, so their intent is somewhat blurry. When is it acceptable to use other people's stories in this way?
The answer provided in See How They Run is that the manner in which the story is told matters a great deal. The film is set around the Agatha Christie play The Mousetrap, which is in itself inspired by a real case of abuse in the foster care system. In The Mousetrap, three foster children were abused by Maureen Lyon and her husband, leading to the death of the youngest. The murderer avenges this death, but is brought to justice within the play. In the film, the child from the real-life case (now an adult) takes a job as an usher at the theatre, hoping that Agatha Christie will have treated the story in a way that will allow him to come to terms with his traumatic childhood. However, he finds that isn't the case. (I haven't actually seen The Mousetrap myself so can't comment on how accurate that is.) Overcome with rage at the portrayal of the story, he kills the director and writer of the proposed film adaptation, intending to stop both the play and the film. When this doesn't work, he tries to murder Agatha Christie herself, but she knocks him out at the end of the film.
The serious message is somewhat lost in the cartoony, action-filled end sequence, which may or may not have been the filmmakers' intention. (The ending is overly dramatic due to a conversation with the director early in the film, where he reveals his new "more exciting" ending, as the story itself is "too boring". In a meta twist, this "more exciting" ending mirrors the final ten minutes of See How They Run. This film does meta very well.) The director within the film earlier claimed that nobody would watch the film unless someone was murdered in the opening frames, and that the story itself needed additions if it was to hold an audience's attention for 90 minutes. (The additions included a car chase, a shootout and a fire, all of which are duly included into See How They Run.) By making these additions, and particularly by changing the ending, the filmmakers 1.) make a very entertaining end sequence and 2.) question how an audience's tastes can change and dilute the story that needs to be told, or perhaps should be told.
This topic also comes up in Only Murders, when Mabel accuses rival podcaster Cinda Canning that "You'd rather tell a story that's tantalizing than the story that's the truth". Cinda replies: "I tell the truth, and the truth is that people don't wanna spend their commutes hearing about run-of-the-mill tragedies. That's why they listen to me because, for 52 minutes a week, I can scare and surprise and, yes, arouse them". Though delivered for comedy, Cinda makes a valid point that the story is told in order to best entertain the audience, rather than to stay true to the real events and respect the people involved. This intention to tell the story that people want to hear has real-life impacts for Mabel, as Cinda's podcast accuses her of the murder of Bunny Folger. The stakes for truth and honesty are incredibly high; if they spin the story to find her guilty, she will be unjustly accused of a crime. By placing one of their main characters under suspicion and at risk of arrest, the writers of Only Murders emphasise the need for honesty and ethics in true-crime media - because if Cinda spins the story people want to hear, one of the show's main characters may end up imprisoned.
This is where See How They Run suffers somewhat. The person affected by the true-crime story turns out to be the murderer, and although he explains his actions and the audience is made to sympathise with him, he is quickly dispatched by Agatha Christie hitting him with a shovel. Because there was less of a personal link to this character - he is not linked to the main characters, and has not been focused on until now - he can be quickly removed (and in a comedic manner) and the audience won't care as much. However, this means that the serious message of the ethics of turning trauma into art is quickly dissipated after an interesting conversation between Christie and Dennis. Christie refuses to stop The Moustrap, and tells him that she can't be told what she can and can't write about. This stings somewhat, as we've seen the desperation and distress the play has driven Dennis to. It also raises the question of whose rights are more important - Agatha Christie's right as an artist to write about what she wants, or Dennis' right as a victim of abuse, and as a human being, to not be vilified and portrayed in a false way. Should Christie have the right to cause him distress and harm, in the name of "art"?
These questions are never answered fully in See How They Run, as it is primarily a comedy murder mystery, and doesn't claim to seriously analyse the ethics of crime fiction. Only Murders in the Building, while also primarily a comedy-crime drama, has the time and space to unpack these issues and deal with them more subtly, as the story is spread over ten half-hour episodes per season. Both shows suggest that consent from the people affected by the crime should be taken into consideration (though in both cases they fail to do so). Both also suggest that the intent behind the creation of the art matters, though See How They Run prizes artistic freedom alongside this. This blog post has raised more questions than it has provided answers, but I hope it's given you something to think about. The ethics of true-crime stories remains a grey area which I am sure will be much discussed in years to come.