AAsk your friends if they’ve seen it Netflix‘s girl in the picture. If so, you will know immediately. This is because their faces grimace and they appear concerned. “One of the most horrifying, disgusting and scary things I have ever seen,” one person wrote on Twitter. “I’m literally nauseous,” wrote another. Oddly enough, I think these were meant as compliments. After all, dead women are in TV land = great content. But let me be clear: This is another pathetic project from Netflix, pulling off another grotesque story to win over a few bored eyeballs.
Directed by Skye Borgman, she made it similarly disturbing Kidnapped in front of everyone for netflix, girl in the picture reveals the mystery behind a young woman’s death and kidnapping of her son. Tonya Hughes was hit and run in 1990. Except… her real name wasn’t Tonya, and it probably wasn’t a hit-and-run. Turns out her real name was Sharon Marshall and the man who said he was her husband was actually her father. Except… her name wasn’t really Sharon, and the man isn’t really her father. Etc., etc. The viewers can only watch helplessly as the rug keeps being pulled out from under them and the story becomes more and more harrowing.
Borgman’s film is at least a competent example of the genre. It’s packed with foreboding music and gritty dramatizations of key scenes. At just over an hour and a half, it’s unbloated and endless. Many key protagonists – at least those who are not dead or in prison – have agreed to be interviewed and to share touching testimonies about Tonya/Sharon. girl in the picture actually answers the questions it raises, namely: What was Tonya/Sharon’s real identity and what happened to their son Michael? Too many cynical real crime Documentaries of late have used sleight of hand to obscure the fact that they are empty and pointless, unable to explain the mysteries at their heart. And, crucially for Netflix, a streaming platform that’s losing subscribers, girl in the picture is the kind of lustful viewing that’s hard to turn away from. It’s so fast it feels relentless.
However, all this is the problem. Make true crime as ethical as possible: consult families, focus on victims, avoid graphic images. But the conventions of the true crime genre, from the spooky music to the orchestrated tempo, still morph into passive voyeurs. A telling tweet read: “I’ve seen a lot of screwed up documentaries girl in the picture on Netflix managed to keep me shocked and horrified the entire time.” Someone replies, “Right away! I haven’t lost interest for a second! It was unreal!” When the goal is to fix people to their screens and make sure they don’t move, it feels too much like a game.
Towards the end you get the feeling girl in the picture has attempted to uncover the true identity of this woman in the service of something greater. She wants her personality back. That is certainly why so many friends and family members are here and telling us about their pain. But it’s undermined by the thrill that came before. You can’t masquerade as activism when you’re actually clickbait. “This is more than just a thriller,” says someone at one point. But I’m not sure it is — at least not for Netflix.
