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Kelly Rissman
US News Reporter
Ten years ago, I was down and out.” These were the opening words spoken by Richard Gadd as he picked up the Emmy for Outstanding Writing for a Limited or Anthology Series last night, for his work on a little show called Baby Reindeer. “And here I am!” Kilted yet chiselled, Gadd didn’t look out of place among the elite of Tinseltown. On the biggest night of the year for prestige television, the Scottish multi-hyphenate comedian-actor-writer looked like a man who had seen off any lingering imposter syndrome.
And yet, in a way, imposter syndrome is precisely what has propelled Gadd into the stratosphere. His debut show, Baby Reindeer, depicted a highly personal story about stalking and abuse. It showed the ease with which people can inveigle their way into your life, the lies they tell to get there, and how difficult it is to dislodge them. And yet, despite the darkness of that premise, it was funny, challenging, surprising and deeply human. Appearing out of nowhere on Netflix – a service that seemed to have given up on creating awards-baiting drama – it took audiences by storm. And then, of course, the backlash began.
If you are not familiar with the tabloid furore around Baby Reindeer, it hinges on a single, but troubling, question. Who owns the right to tell their story? For Gadd, the project was a personal one; a semi-autobiographical journey into the worst moments of his life. But that story was a two-hander, a dance with his stalker, Martha (played, superbly, by Jessica Gunning, also a winner last night at the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles). As the show became a surprise hit – topping Netflix’s viewing charts across English-speaking territories – the right of the “real” Martha to contribute her own telling became fiercely contested. It resulted in front-page newspaper splashes, an appearance on Piers Morgan’s talk show that made Prince Andrew on Newsnight seem like a slick PR job, and, inevitably, lawsuits. In the media maelstrom, the analysis of Baby Reindeer as a creative endeavour was lost.
One of the strange pleasures of being a television critic is getting the opportunity to watch shows before they are gripped by the discourse. Not only are you unburdened by other people’s opinions on the show’s merits, but most controversies have yet to ignite. With its elliptical title and lack of star names on the cast list, Baby Reindeer was a truly unknown entity. And yet, it was good. “This is twisty, mature, self-interrogating stuff,” I wrote at the time, “that will leave you more troubled than tickled.” And yet, that didn’t come close to capturing the troubles the show itself would face.
The New Yorker claimed that it “sidesteps some ethical questions with its comparatively helpless, almost unwitting hero”, The Guardian labelled the fallout from the show as “dangerous”, while TheWrap called it a victim of “Netflix’s true crime disease”. All of these headlines kept Baby Reindeer at the top of the streaming service’s charts, as clips from both the show and the “real” Martha (a Scottish lady called Fiona Harvey) became memes. The internet began to eat it. Within a couple of months of airing, the show seemed to become consumed by the tabloid frenzy.
And yet the creators are now going home with an armful of Emmys, and, presumably, carte blanche for whatever project tickles their fancies next. It is a salient reminder to tune out the noise – for all the hand-wringing debates about the show’s moral compass, nothing prevented it from being a fine piece of TV. And in a year that has struggled to generate standout programming (The Bear was the night’s other big winner, miscategorised as a comedy show, while middling-to-poor dramas like The Morning Show and The Crown scooped gongs), Baby Reindeer has been a triumph. Provocative, yes, but in the way that TV ought to be.
“The only constant across any success in television is good storytelling that speaks to our times,” Gadd told the assembled audiences, and viewers at home, as he picked up the show’s award for Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series. “So, take risks, push boundaries, explore the uncomfortable.” Dressed like William Wallace, this felt like a rallying cry for the whole industry, from commissioners to critics. And yet it was also a reminder to those watching from the comfort of their couch. Speculate, dissect and moralise all you want, but don’t lose sight of the ambitions of art.
The 2024 Emmys have proven that good television lives on a razor’s edge with bad television, or as Gadd, more pithily, put it: “Dare to fail in order to achieve.”
