Baby Reindeer: A Horror Masterpiece
Initial Review
This series was poetically tragic. And much like an accident on the side of the road, it was difficult to look away from the ever-increasing chaos. If I learned anything from my viewing experience, it’s that we humans simply can’t satiate our hunger for the horrific.
Though it maintained a sense of humor throughout, Baby Reindeer was one of the saddest shows I’ve seen in a long while.
Here’s How Baby Reindeer Fits Into the Horror Genre
First off, what defines a horror film? In Danse Macabre, Stephen King defined them thus:
If movies are the dreams of the mass culture… horror movies are the nightmares.
Better yet, I found a random college essay from a 2004 group project that described the genre well enough, if a little less succinctly than Mr. King:
[Horror movies] are designed to frighten, shock and disgust while evoking our worst hidden fears, ironically captivating and entertaining us at the same time. They deal with… our vulnerability, nightmares, alienation, our terror of the unknown, fear of death and/or our fear of sexuality.
Well… Baby Reindeer does just about all of that. It’s indeed frightening. Nightmarish really. It’s undoubtedly shocking and disgusting (thank you, Martha). And it puts on display some of humanity’s greatest fears: being taken advantage of, feeling weak and helpless, not knowing who you are, the desperate unease of having to look over your shoulder, the fear of exploring your sexuality and wondering if we’ll be accepted for it…. It hits just about every nail on the head.
Visuals
Visually, it’s stylistic and often dark and dreary. Furthermore, it allows the more horrific and painful moments to play out in earnest, isolating them visually with vignettes, claustrophobic framing, and haunting practical lighting effects.
Ep. 4
To get specific, episode four is one of the most terrifying episodes of television I’ve ever experienced. Not because I jumped at some cheap scare, but because you get a backstage pass into the incredibly twisted world of grooming. It’s gut-wrenching.
Psychological Horror
Psychological horror? Seems straightforward. But let’s define it with the help of The Los Angeles Film School:
Psychological horror is not about what we see on the screen but how it makes us feel. This genre plays tricks on the viewers’ mind by creating paranoia…. Since this type of horror can feel a little too real compared to the other genres (gore and monsters), people may walk away feeling uneasy.
One of the most notable psychological horror films of all time is, of course, The Shining. (Additionally, Psycho, The Amityville Horror, etc.)
In each of these, the person plagued by psychological trauma acts violently toward others. In Baby Reindeer, Martha and Darrien are the psychologically deranged that repeatedly assault our protagonist. And, while it seems Donny is dealing with cerebral demons of his own, they stemmed as a result of Darrien’s repeated abuse.
Before the fated meeting, we see scenes of a relatively happy life. Then, in episode four, Donny states, “I went from a guy who smoked a bit of weed to weeklong benders high on crack… and meth… and heroin.” (Ep. 4, 26:06)
It’s clear this was the beginning of Donny’s mental decline, which opened him up to further attacks from Darrien… and the eventual stalking of Martha.
The Soundtrack
Still not sure it’s a horror series? Listen to the original soundtrack. It’s eerie as hell. And so, so tragic.
In Conclusion…
While deeply disturbing, this is a timely and poignant piece of television. Watching it felt like walking off a cliff and falling into someone’s journal, landing in the darkest recesses of their mind… hearing their innermost thoughts. And I suppose that’s exactly what it was. A journey through a shattered mind.
Ultimately, Baby Reindeer was beautifully written, incredibly heartbreaking, and—without a doubt—absolutely terrifying.
Thank You (:
Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read this review. No AI was used in the writing of this article or in conducting the brief research I did here. I’ll tell you why I feel the need to say that:
For me, writing is exercise for the mind. It pulls and tears the same way a workout would with the body. There are times when it’s painful, hard… where you want to give up. And now there’s a tool that can take that pain away.
But reducing the friction detracts from what’s gained. The struggle, the pauses, the moments where you have to walk away to let your mind wander and solve the problem, these make you a stronger writer and strengthen the mind. Strengthen the soul even.
And that’s the beauty of writing for passion. I can take all the time I need. I can do it right and become all the better for it.
I don’t need to sacrifice my ability to think critically to serve the gods of efficiency—those we must bow to during our 9-to-5s. (And yes, I know ChatGPT uses a ton of em dashes. I hate that it stole them from us, so I’ll continue to use the em dash in silent revolt.)
Thanks again, friend. I look forward to seeing you again soon.
