On watching Baby Reindeer, the temptation (one somewhat invited by the show by telling us that the story we’re about to watch is true) is to focus on which parts of the story are factual, the identities of Martha and Darrien and the recent accusations made against Richard Gadd for dating an actor who was auditioning for the show. And I’m not going to lie; I have fallen deep down those numerous rabbit holes.* 

But, if you’ve yet to watch the show, and I highly recommend you do (with some caveats), I recommend avoiding all the peripheral noise.** Because taken on its own merits, Baby Reindeer is as powerful and confronting a show about trauma as I’ve ever watched. 

I’ll keep the premise short: Donny Dunn (played by Richard Gadd) is a struggling (Scottish) comedian working in a pub in London. One day, a distraught woman walks into the pub. Her name is Martha. Donny immediately feels pity for Martha because she’s overweight and frumpy-looking (we don’t need to guess Donny’s motivation; he provides us with an internal monologue through all seven episodes). He offers Martha a cup of tea. Martha takes that moment of empathy as a sign of attraction, and things go horrific from there.

Donny is a very flawed person. He could have dealt with Martha in multiple ways, but each time, he makes the worst decision — an indication of a self-destructive personality. His treatment of his girlfriend Teri (played brilliantly by Nava Mau) — a transwomen — has all the hallmarks of internalised transphobia; he hides Terri away from everyone he knows and refuses to be intimate with her (on that note, there’s a scene on a train in episode 2 that hurts to watch). The reason Donny is the way he is and why he can’t be intimate with Teri is revealed in episode four. This is where Gadd really digs deep into his character’s trauma (a trauma that’s also his own). It’s stark, raw, and anger-inducing.

Auto-fiction, which is what Baby Reindeer is, is a long-standing literary device. But auto-fiction never purports to be true. Baby Reindeer does. And while Gadd has since said that it’s “emotionally” true rather than factually, the claim of truth-ness is partly to blame for the kerfuffle that’s happened since. And that’s a shame because it didn’t need a claim to truth to add heft to what was already a powerful portrait of trauma.

* When I wrote this review close to a month ago — yes, I sit on these buggers for weeks — Fiona Harvey (the real Martha) had just featured on Piers Morgan’s show. She’s now suing Netflix for defamation. 

** If that’s even possible.