Dark is beautiful, but it is also engaging, impulsive, and a never-ending maze of puzzles. We, as a species, are obsessed with the things or nuances that are beyond our comprehension. This is how sixty percent of the population (according to statistics) is attracted to true crime. From the Mendez Brothers to the Mason Murders, Netflix has attracted a wide array of true crime lovers. This genre has become the torchbearer of guilty pleasure; scientists, critics, and researchers haven’t been exactly able to point out why this stands out. An injection of adrenaline in a safe cocoon is considered bliss by some. It’s not exactly a ‘crime,’ but the intrigue, thrill, and thirst for armchair comfort that seeks to explore the unknown have multifaceted reasons.
The Copycat effect
One can leave the psychological impact behind, but this genre has given birth to evil, whether it’s fiction or non-fiction. For instance, Canadian filmmaker Mark Andrew Twitchell, who was born on July 4, 1979, was found guilty in April 2011 of first-degree murder for killing John Brian Altinger. Due to Twitchell’s purported inspiration from the fictitious figure Dexter Morgan, his trial garnered significant media attention. Another instance, it can be counted as a more horrific one, in Japan, about two percent of the population lives in a perpetual state of ‘Hikikomori.’ Tomohiro Kato, a recluse, rammed a truck into the pedestrians in the busy streets of Tokyo’s Akihabara district. He became known as the comic book killer after succumbing to Hikikomori and developing an unhealthy obsession with anime and manga. While the case sparked outrage in the Japanese community, crime enthusiasts found it interesting to consider. Richard Chenevix’s Schadenfreude theory describes the unique pleasure that humans derive from people’s pain. Over the last three decades, research has revealed that Schadenfreude has multiple dimensions and derives from humans’ need for an egalitarian society, self-evaluation, and social belonging. The pleasure derived is extremely individualistic.
When Netflix started solving crimes
There is always the generic fact that there will be light versus the darkness. Not all end up in the loopholes of discarded morality; some documentaries end up bringing a facade of change. At their Beverly Hills mansion in 1989, brothers Lyle and Erik Menendez repeatedly shot their parents at close range, killing them. In 1996, they were convicted of first-degree murder and conspiracy to murder and given a life sentence without the chance of release. Since the 2024 release of Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, a new Netflix thriller, public interest in the case has increased. Opinions on their narrative are still divided. The onslaught of sympathy towards the Menendez brothers drew support from people in the Hollywood industry. People became vocal about their support after the possibility of parole for them became nonexistent. Cliff Gardner, the brothers’ lawyer, filed a petition for a new hearing that might result in a new trial after certain recent revelations.
In Andrew Jarecki’s film “The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst,” the affluent Manhattanite eluded justice for decades after three horrific incidents in his life: the murder and dissection of his aged Texas neighbor Morris Black, the sudden disappearance of his first wife Kathie Durst, and the grisly killing of his dear companion Susan Berman. The man evaded justice; even the documentary makers did not realise that he was the killer, but in the final episode of the mini-docu series, he confessed, unaware that the microphone was still on. Shiver went down the spine when he said, “’Killed them all, of course.” This turned the tide of the case, as the killer was never found, and Hurst turned out to be one. Perhaps that was the biggest fumble in the history of intelligent psychopaths.
Why do some play detective from their couches?
The lingering question of why in mysteries is the cornerstone of popularity and catches people’s morbid obsession. The why is never solved. Some critics believe murderers act because of whether they have been nurtured in an unhealthy environment, or they are born with an abnormality in the mind. The documentaries imply that people who reside on the other side of the spectrum (psychopaths and sociopaths) are different from the coined ‘normal people.’ This creates a distance in a safe environment, and seeking thrills in the maze of the unknown. The moral reassurance is the one that bubbles life with normalcy and an attitude of happiness. Crime is a double-edged blade, affecting both those who are victims of it and those who are struggling psychologically. Occasionally, it catalyzes transformation and a need to illuminate the dark recesses of the conscious mind and its potential.
The media is not a mere instrument; the portrayal is always black and white.
