A few episodes of certain shows have been immortalised in television history. Breaking Bad’s ‘Ozymandias’, widely considered as the best-ever 47 minutes on the small screen, melds chaos with catharsis and an unexpected death. The battle to reclaim Winterfell led to one of Game of Thrones’ most impressive episodes, named ‘Battle of the Bastards’. The Sopranos had ‘Pine Barrens’, aptly described by Variety as ‘a mobster version of Waiting for Godot’.

In Baby Reindeer, Netflix’s latest global phenomenon, that crown sits comfortably (and if you have watched the series, rather uncomfortably) on Episode 4. A devastating portrayal of trauma, abuse, the need for validation in a world which applauds and censures in equal measure, and the shame spiral that follows the systemic enabling of all of it, this is a deeply disturbing piece of storytelling, one that takes a tragic-comic route and results in being both horrifying and heartbreaking.

HORROR & HEARTBREAK

The horror is accentuated further by the realisation that it is a more fact, less fiction retelling of the show’s creator Richard Gadd’s — who also plays the lead, named Donny Dunn — real life. Almost everything that plays out in the seven episodes of Baby Reindeer has taken place in Gadd’s life, exemplifying the adage that truth is stranger than fiction. Gadd took all of it and turned it into a highly acclaimed one-man play at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. It is now, eventually, a Netflix series creating waves across the world.

Before the traumatic fourth episode drops, Baby Reindeer seems like an account of stalking, that kicks off innocuously (how dark can a show that is called Baby Reindeer anyway be?) but soon acquires a sinister edge. Donny, an aspiring stand-up comedian (without much luck, one may add) sustains himself by working in a pub at Camden. Donny isn’t doing well at all — a hangdog expression has become his version of a resting bitch face, the shoulders are constantly drooping and the fact that he continues to bunk at his former girlfriend’s mother’s place even after their unceremonious breakup so that he doesn’t need to pay rent, is evidence enough that the ‘L’ word is well on its way to becoming his middle name.

When Martha (a terrific and terrifying, vicious and vulnerable Jessica Gunning) walks in one day, he feels a certain kinship. She seems awkward despite her sunny disposition; her needy under-confidence belies her claims of being a well-connected lawyer with Tony Blair and Ed Miliband on her speed dial. She seems as lost as he is, and Donny offering Martha “a cuppa tea on the house” sets off a spiral of events which sees him slowly but surely veering towards the edge of a mental and emotional precipice.

The catch? On a subconscious level, Donny is unable to let go of Martha. He kind of ‘likes’ the twisted attention (emails, messages, sneakily following him home, dropping in at inopportune moments at his place of work, spending cold days and colder nights at the bus stop in front of his window). For this is the first time, for better or for worse, that anyone has acknowledged Donny. He continues indulging Martha — passively, at least. She bombards his inbox with thousands of emails and makes thinly veiled sexual jokes about how much she wants him — and how much, she thinks, he lusts after her.

Soon, Donny’s life descends into a unique sort of hell, as he attempts to keep his distance from Martha while, at the same time, he wrestles with the fact that her presence in his life is the most interesting thing about it. She is the only one who sees him in a world that doesn’t.

A UNIQUE PIECE OF STORYTELLING

What sets Baby Reindeer apart is that it is not a straightforward story about a man and his stalker, however complex that relationship eventually turns out to be. Gadd throws a curveball at the viewer in the aforementioned fourth episode where Martha’s unhinged behaviour triggers off memories of his past. Soon, we are hurtled into a world of drugs, abuse, manipulation and even rape. It is a tough watch and also brings to the fore the need to break the culture of silence that surrounds the abuse of men.

When Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You dropped four years ago, it was hailed as a bold work of art, an intelligent, deeply personal look at the impact of sexual assault on someone’s life and self-worth, all wrapped up in a zany, zingy package. I hadn’t thought anything could come close to how it illustrated the multi-pronged effects of sexual abuse. Baby Reindeer is a worthy successor, and in many ways, even surpasses it.

If Episode 4 is one of the most powerful and poignant seen in a long time, the sixth episode of Baby Reindeer makes for extremely brave television. Gadd, in the skin of Donny but playing out what is essentially his life, sits in front of a crowd at a stand-up competition where he has fared badly till then and bares his soul. He talks about his rape, the shame he felt in going back time and again to his abuser because of his need for validation and what the episode has done to him. “I feared judgment my entire life. That’s why I wanted fame, because when you are famous, people see you as that, famous. They are not thinking all the other things that I am scared they’re thinking,” he alternately chuckles and cries to a stunned audience. “I wanted so badly to be the funny guy,” Donny shares with the audience, choking back tears.

During this shocking act, Donny rids himself of the shame that has been weighing him down for so long. Gadd delivers a remarkable performance, processing Donny’s pain and his own too. It takes a phenomenal amount of courage to share your darkest experiences with one person, leave alone an entire room of strangers, all armed with mobile phone cameras. Your soul-baring moment could well become a meme or a reel the next second. These are the times we live in. The scene runs long but only the first few minutes are all it takes to rip your heart out. For days, you are not the same.

Baby Reindeer is remarkable in how it takes a moment that could easily be interpreted as the worst moment in Donny’s life and turns into one of heroism. It is a scene that is both harrowing and hopeful, and holds the power to win the series a couple of big awards on its strength alone.

The open-ended curtain call is also one that calls for praise. Donny’s realisation of what made Martha the way she is and what she meant to him, breaks him. He cries like a baby when he hears one of her many voicemails where she reveals why she calls him her ‘baby reindeer’. “You mean so much to me,” her voice, breaking down, chimes out, reducing him to a puddle of emotions. He needs a drink but can’t find his wallet and is told by the kind bartender that it is on the house. Life comes full circle for Donny. You, the viewer, take it all in, marvelling at the power that some moving images and crushing words can have on you. All of Baby Reindeer is about that.

Which is the most devastating film/ series you have watched?
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