Bodkin Review 2024 Tv Show Series Cast Crew Online
“True-crime podcasts aren’t journalism. They’re necrophilia.” So says Dove (Siobhan Cullen), an investigative reporter for The Guardian, whose disdain for professional podcasting would make even the most judgemental parent defend their child’s chosen “career.” Throughout “Bodkin,” a fictional Netflix mystery set in a fictional Irish town about its fishy, fictional residents (and fictional visiting reporters), Dove never misses an opportunity to rail against the hottest nonfiction genre of the last decade or so. At first, it’s hard to blame her. Certain true-crime podcasts, documentaries, and reports have faced criticism for years over unethical practices, whether it’s playing loosey-goosey with the facts, disrespecting victims’ privacy, or overextending its story for extra attention. Plus, after an untold number of narratives about missing kids and dead women, we’re overdue, as a culture, to pivot away from true crime and into something new. (Maybe toward truly funny comedies?!)
But despite “Bodkin” making us aware that it knows what it is — a meta version of those murder-mystery shows — creator Jez Scharf doesn’t have much to say about the genre. The series embodies trope after trope from famous true crime tales, and yet it never develops those ideas into something new or uses them to interrogate how they became tropes to begin with. Not quite a spoof, nor able to stand as its own mystery, in the end, the sharpest perspective seems to align with Dove’s initial misgivings, and Scharf appears eager to bury the genre… right after spending seven hours acting out another one. Sure, hers isn’t based in truth, but it’s also not very convincing — as a piece of criticism, or as its own drama.
Dove isn’t the catalyst for what happens in “Bodkin,” but she is the main character. While working on a high-stakes story in London, Dove’s primary source is compromised, and she finds him dead in his apartment. The authorities set her in their sights, suspicious of what she uncovered and how she uncovered it. Knowing Dove is a bit of a hot-head, her editor decides it’s best for his ace reporter to lay low for a while, and since Dove doesn’t know how to not work, he agrees to let her help with a low-key gig led by the paper’s podcasting department.
Enter: Gilbert Power (Will Forte), an American podcast host and producer who’s touted as the company’s superstar. He broke out with a deeply personal podcast chronicling his wife’s battle with cancer, and now he’s targeting another sad story from a small Irish town. Twenty-five years ago in Bodkin, three people disappeared during the local Halloween festival. They haven’t held the event again since the tragedy, but this year, they’re bringing it back, which gives Gilbert’s story a timely peg. Along with his researcher, Emmy Sizergh (Robyn Cara), and Dove as a consultant (she’s originally from Ireland), Gilbert hopes to hear what happened from the townsfolk themselves, and maybe nudge the investigation forward just a hair.
“And people will listen to that?” The question becomes a refrain from anyone first hearing Gilbert’s pitch, and it’s about as close as “Bodkin” gets to acknowledging the original podcasting market’s recent downturn. (Would a media company pay three staffers to travel to Ireland for a weeks-long investigation in 2024? Maybe! But the fiscal concerns that pop up for Gilbert have nothing to do with his long-term job security.) Other accuracy issues make it hard to invest in a world that feels phonier by the second. A female reporter sleeps with her subject again, and Dove’s rampant lack of professionalism (or even common sense) butts up against her elite reputation. While she may be written to represent the no-nonsense journalists and cops who typically lone wolf their way through crime shows, Dove overdoes it. Even with the requisite traumatic backstory to excuse her current cold, cutting demeanor — will she excise her own old demons while solving this case?! — she’s a liability for Gilbert and Emmy, not an asset.
The locals are imminently more interesting, thanks in part to a fever-pitch performance by David Wilmot as Seamus Gallagher, a fiery fisherman who forms a cantankerous connection with the bubbly Gilbert. Their scenes are a highlight, as Forte’s well-meaning but oblivious tourist clashes and charms Wilmot’s defensive yet boisterous villager. Their mercurial camaraderie certainly deserved more scenes like their roadside dance lesson.
But he, along with his friends and neighbors, are also written to be sympathetic, which gets complicated as the past comes to light. Time and time again, the people of Bodkin push back on Gilbert’s inquiries. They’re fine letting sleeping dogs lie, they say. They’re ready to move on, to bring back the festival along with its better memories. The locals vs. the outsiders is framed as a battle over whose story merits hearing: the one that lets these people find peace, or the one that’s exposed by these prying podcasters. Maybe they’re one in the same. Maybe they’re not. The importance of a good story is put on a pedestal, alongside the truth, but “Bodkin” never mounts a firm case for cold case journalism (which is easily defensible when handled by professionals) or one that substantially supports the victims. The season can’t determine whether its own story is worth hearing, and that lack of clarity combined with flagging verisimilitude makes for an unsatisfying finish.
It’s not effective true crime, nor is it an effective censure of true crime. It’s somewhere in between, and that doesn’t really serve anyone. The true-crime genre certainly has its pitfalls, but it deserves sharper analysis than this.
