When Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You dropped in 2020, 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 kind of weird, funny package. It had a critical buzz when it arrived, but it only grew in popularity as word of mouth spread, with more and more people watching — and talking about — it as time went on.
Four years later, I’m starting to wonder if that’s what will happen with Baby Reindeer. I certainly hope so. As we learn in episode four, the wacky little Netflix series isn’t just some true-crime thriller about a stalker who ruins lives and relationships, but also an important look at what happens when a man is sexually assaulted, and — at least for Reindeer creator Richard Gadd — all the grooming and manipulation that led to it, and all the shame and self-immolation that came after.
It’s always been clear watching Baby Reindeer that the show was a deeply personal project for Gadd, who first debuted the story as part of a one-man show. This episode, though, in which he finally cracks the door into his mind, letting viewers get a terrible, gut-wrenching view of his grooming, assault, and rape, is the most personal kind of television. One that admits not just that he’s been wronged, but that there was (and maybe still is?) a part of him that feels at least partially responsible.
Gadd making Baby Reindeer and putting his life on display like this is an act of tremendous courage. It’s human nature in 2024 to want to know what really happened — who Darrien really was, how many parallels there are between the show and Gasdd’s real life, and so on — but to do that trivializes the work and misses the general point. Baby Reindeer isn’t just about Gadd’s life and assault in the singular: It’s about the culture of silence that surrounds these kinds of acts as a whole, particularly for men. While the numbers are lower for men than they are for women — RAINN says that one in six women has been a victim of an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime, versus one in 33 men — the fact that about three percent of all men will or have experienced some form of sexual violence absolutely has to be talked about, written about, and represented in all forms of media.
I could get into the details of Donny’s on-screen grooming, assault, and shame spiral here, but that feels almost trivial. You need to see this episode to really absorb it. Once you do, its images, feelings, and expressions will undoubtedly be burnt into your brain, whether it’s Donny’s gaunt face, bathed in light as he lays back, mostly immobilized after his first hit of MDMA and GHB, the glimpses of pain and shock we see on his face during and after his rape, or whether it’s the slow sadness that fills Gadd’s voice as he tells the audience that, in fact, he didn’t leave Darrien’s house right after the assault, but instead stayed for days after, playing with his cat and mucking about. Or whether it’s Gadd’s voiceover later in the episode describing how he’d go on to pursue other reckless sexual situations, thinking that if he was raped again, it would shed the stigma of the first assault because he reasoned, nihilistically, that “it’s happened a ton of times now so what does it matter?”
There’s also a lot of poignance in the scene late in the episode where he meets Teri because it’s in that moment when Gadd says that he can’t let himself fall in love with her lest he finds that he can’t “Hide in anonymity anymore” or be forced to reckon with the fact that he “might not feel this way if [Darrien] hadn’t done what he did.” That bit is certainly when I felt major regret for questioning why he treated Teri like such garbage and when I started to understand why it took Donny so damn long to call the police. As we find out at the end of the episode, even when Donny does go, he does so in a rather scattered way, not clueing officers into Teri’s assault, Martha’s past, or what she’d done to him down by the canal. He told a half version of that story so he didn’t have to tell his whole truth, a fact that’s frustrating but entirely understandable, even if we know as viewers that it’s only going to lead to more pain for himself and his loved ones.
At the end of the episode, Donny’s voiceover says that when he left the police station, he was “back to square one,” a fact that seems defeatist but based on some sort of fact. What’s true, though, is that even taking that step — telling someone something shameful, opening up about even a part of what happened, even if only to himself — is enough. We all have to let people unfurl themselves and in their own time and own way, because that’s how we get to see the most important truths of all.
Reindeer Tales
• If you think Donny’s plaid suit is bad, wait until you get a look at his shiny onesie, not to mention the rubber gloved-finger pose he’s giving on his “LOL On Cancer!” poster. Props for that eggplant, though.
• Tom Goodman-Hill, who plays Darrien, does a great job at being a totally interesting and likable guy who slowly transforms into a total monster.
• Should you want to have your own really horrible trip, the song Darrien puts on is Kevin MacLeod’s “Tafi Maradi.”
• The writing in this episode is really amazing. I hope it’s up for all the awards come next Emmy season.
