Not long after I returned from visiting my daughter in Madrid in April, I logged on to Netflix to see what I had missed while I was overseas. Now, it’s not altogether unusual that a glance at the platform’s “Top 10 TV shows in the U.S.
Today” row yields some unfamiliar results. “Too Hot to Handle,” on the list as I write this, is now in its sixth season, and for all I know, it’s a reality series about testing cookware. Seeing a series titled “Baby Reindeer” at the No.
1 spot piqued my interest. Strange title. Maybe a reality show following a caribou breeder in Alaska? Could be a cute nature program.
Who doesn’t want to see a bunch of adorable baby reindeer learning to walk? The next day, a publicist called. Have you seen “Baby Reindeer”? No. But I see it’s the No.
1 show on Netflix. I’ll have to check it out. The next day, the same publicist rang again.
“Did you watch ‘Baby Reindeer’?” Dude. It’s been one night. The next day, I watched “Baby Reindeer.
” And the day after that, I finished watching “Baby Reindeer.” Seven episodes, most of them running about a half-hour. Initially, it looks like a horror story about a stalker hounding Donny, a sad-sack bartender who harbors dreams of becoming a comic.
But it quickly becomes deeper and more complex, as Donny’s own behavior becomes erratic, fueled by self-loathing and neediness rooted in shame. And then you get to that fourth episode and you find out why it took Donny so long to repor.