The success of the Netflix series Baby Reindeer seemingly even surprised the streaming service. The controversy over the way the stalker in the series can be identified - with fairly minimal online sleuthing - has marred Richard Gadd’s breakthrough moment. Had Netflix known it would be such a success, their legal department would surely have asked Gadd to change the opening words ‘this is a true story’. Gadd has since qualified this, saying that the series is “emotionally true”. As the Guardian writer Marina Hyde noted, this is a ‘very 2024’ statement.

The furore is in some ways emblematic of the social media age. In previous eras, many works of ‘fiction’ have been ‘roman-à-clefs’ but the reader or viewer had fewer tools to unpick them. Throughout cultural history, writers, dramatists have drawn on their own personal experiences, cathartically forming great art out of them. Joseph Beuys felt that artists needed to “show their scars” in their work. Gadd has consistently done this.

What is not in doubt is that Gadd has produced a fantastic, searing piece of television. This is little surprise to me, I was lucky enough to review his first triumph at the 2016 Edinburgh Fringe:

‘The room was heavy with expectation as Richard Gadd came onstage. Earlier that day he had received the Best Show award for 2016. The resultant exultant mood helped energise Gadd to deliver one final performance of Monkey See Monkey Do. A breathtaking show; literally in Gadd’s case - on a treadmill throughout. The show was an exploration of the fear, shame and self-doubt that resulted from sexual abuse. Making brilliant use of video and voiceover, Gadd created a performance of mesmeric brilliance.’

Gadd’s win brought prestige to the PBH Free Fringe, and also countered the accusation that local performers cannot make an impact (Gadd being from Fife). Gadd’s view that “the Fringe is a magical place… don’t let anyone tell you otherwise” was clearly demonstrated that night. The 10 minute standing ovation was fully merited. Gadd’s performance has stayed with me, exemplifying why I and thousands of others return to the Fringe every year.

Baby Reindeer has a similar feel; Gadd switching from moments of incredible vulnerability to those which leave you bewildered and perplexed. “Why did he do that?” audience members will surely utter as he commits a series of self-sabotaging, self-destructive acts.

One particularly striking aspect is the brilliant use of music. Classic bits of folk, pop and rock add emotional depth to each episode. Nowhere is this more apparent than a scene in which Donny recovers from being ‘glassed’ by his stalker, Martha, and makes his way to perform at a comedy gig. It begins with Donny walking through London streets, emotionally disconnected, heading woozily towards the venue.

Before going on stage, Donny visits the loo and looks in the mirror, his face soaked in water and tears; facing the true depths to which his life has sunk. This is his breaking point. The scene is soundtracked by a tortured 1960s tearjerker, I Started a Joke. The plaintive vocals and lyrics (‘And I fell out of bed hurting my head from things that I said’) perfectly match the scene. Robin Gibb’s beautifully wobbling vibrato shakes the tears out of every line.

That the name of the artists (the Bee Gees) isn’t mentioned perhaps helps here. There’s little doubt their reputation coloured by a strong dose of naffness - a negative halo effect - affects their songs; immediately downgraded due to the bands’ lack of ‘cred’. I recall hearing a version of their New York Mining Disaster by the folk legend Martin Carthy and being mesmerised by the song. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been if I’d known who the original artist was.

As a result of Baby Reindeer, the song is being rediscovered. There is nothing new in this. We’ve seen how the work of Kate Bush reached a new generation through the series Stranger Things. Other classic examples of overlooked or slightly forgotten artists being revitalised include the soundtrack of Reservoir Dogs which helped Stealers Wheels’ Stuck in the Middle with You reach a prominence they never achieved in their active years.

This connects to a narrative that there is much great culture out there waiting to be discovered or discovered anew. Cutting against the view that what is popular or highly ranked has emerged in some natural way, with the cream rising to the top. It reveals something about the profound malleability of cultural tastes.

It also highlights the importance of timing. I Started a Joke bursts through the screen because it brilliantly enhances the scene. Gadd’s performance at the 2016 Fringe undoubtedly impacted me particularly deeply because I’d had to run along the Cowgate to get to the venue, fortuitously grabbing the last seat, on the last night.

There are many things we can take from Baby Reindeer, including being cognizant that those who behave badly do so for a reason. Another lesson might have deeper implications. There are many wonderful things that you are, at present, completely unaware of. This is surely one of the most profound reasons to keep alive and keep exploring.

What comes next? ■

Charlie Ellis

Info: The author thanks SICK Writing Group for their comments on this piece