It would be very easy to brush off Netflix's new psychological thriller as an intense and exciting drama giving insight into the threat of poor internet security and obsessive behaviour. Given its fame and the fact that it has already been renewed for a second season, there is no denying its popularity, but popularity says nothing for actual merit of content. The truth is that the series 'You' is anything but a neatly didactic warning into 21st century personal relations wrapped up in a captivating teen drama. It is something far more disturbing.
The story begins when Joe Goldberg ('Gossip Girl's Penn Badgley), the charming young owner of a bookshop in New York, spots the attractive and naïve student writer, Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail), browsing the shelves in his store and decides within seconds that she is the sole object of his desire. The pair exchange a few flirtatious words over the counter and that is it; Joe's sudden determination warps into obsession and within no time at all he becomes intent on winning her over by any means necessary. And by "any means", that is quite literally anything from old-school stalking, to theft and murder. The character becomes so focused on his goal that any social and moral boundaries are forgotten not only by him, but unfortunately by the writers too.
What had the potential to become a clever satire about gender politics, the romanticisation of obsessive behaviour in popular culture, and the beloved Nice Guy trope, ends up being a strange romanticisation of a murderous psychopath. The show is, to some extent, self aware about the way in which it replicates and exposes the toxic behaviour pertinent to many male characters in Hollywood (there is one scene, for example, in which Joe breaks into Beck's apartment and hides in the shower when she returns unexpectedly, with the voiceover of his thoughts confessing: "I've seen enough romantic comedies to know guys like me are always getting in jams like this"), yet somehow they still manage to play into this trap. Any potentially profound messages about the red flags of toxicity are so well masked behind a wall of sensationalist drama that all we are left with is a strange breed of psychopath-thriller-romcom.
As an audience we experience the entire drama from inside the mind of Joe, hearing his thoughts in voiceover throughout, whose charming wit, attractiveness and charisma make him strangely compelling and dangerously likeable. Despite his violence, misogyny, obsessiveness and callous lack of repentance, it is his cool wit and casual charm which dictates the audience's opinion of him, with his narration constantly providing warped logical reasoning behind his actions. Most unsettling of all is the genuine kindness that Joe shows towards his young neighbour, Pablo, whose neglectful home life renders him vulnerable. By presenting this tender side, it almost seems to justify his other actions as simply being "character flaws". The only one who sees past the charming exterior is Pablo's abusive stepfather, thus equating the idea of disliking Joe with this repulsive character. With the rest of the characters written as nothing more than two-dimensional stereotypes or, at best, simply uninteresting background fodder, Joe is easily the most well-developed and interesting character, and this is one of the worst flaws of the show; not only is Joe the only one in which we have any emotional investment, but when every single other character is so completely unlikeable he truly seems like the best of the lot.
Beck's character is infuriating and only becomes more irritating as the episodes go on. She is a writer who literally never writes, and then who complains about her lack of productivity. She has the personality of a doormat and almost welcomes those who want nothing but to walk all over her. Her whiny apathy and push-over naïvety means that the audience never really manages to feel enough sympathy for her to make them wish Joe out of her life. In the first few weeks of them dating Joe presents Beck with the perfect neatly packaged romance, complete with profound insights and meaningful compliments. This is the type of treatment that most girls dream of experiencing, which is what makes everything just a little bit more disturbing. Joe is practically presented as the ideal candidate; at times he really seems like the "good guy". And this becomes even more overt when he is pitched up against such obviously despicable alternatives like the openly misogynistic Benji or Beck's predatory college professor.
Potential SPOILERS Ahead
A lot of toxic relationships
One of the most disturbing aspects of the series is indeed the way in which Joe is presented as the only character with genuine interest in Beck's wellbeing. With everyone else in her life so utterly detestable, he genuinely seems like the best option for her. For starters, her ex-partner, Benji, is the typical self-righteous, privileged narcissist that your mum warns you about dating. His arrogance and entire lack of respect for Beck makes Joe seem like a knight in shining armour by comparison. Her college professor is also nothing more than the classic trope of the creepy male predator who preys on innocent female students. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about either character, so the implication is, therefore, that Joe somehow occupies the moral high ground above them, despite obvious yet unimportant details like the fact that he is a serial killer. And Beck's friends are really no better. The possessive, needy best-friend character, Peach (Shay Mitchell), is another underdeveloped stereotype of the rich city girl who expects the world to fall at her feet. She, too, manipulates and bullies Beck into getting her own way and is never made out to be anything more than a condescending snob. So ultimately, when Joe remorselessly begins to picks off her friends, one by one, it almost feels like a divine act of karma and entirely deserved consequence of their incessantly selfish behaviour.
As if this portrayal of Joe as some sort of divine giver-of-justice and the romanticisation his obsessive behaviour were not condemning enough, the show is also laced with such obvious plot-holes that the entire story is rendered unbelievable. The most obvious of these flaws is the lack of curtains in Beck's ground-floor apartment with its floor to ceiling windows. How nice and convenient it then is for Joe to stand outside her house, entirely unnoticed (because apparently this is a one-way glass situation), and watch her every move at all times. He also manages to hide from Beck's view even when sat in plain sight, less than two metres from her, just by wearing a baseball cap. One of the most ridiculous moments is when Joe is seen at night in the forest burning the body of one of his victims and the innocent passers-by somehow fail to notice the corpse-shaped nature of his little bonfire, continuing on their way without so much as a second glance. Not only this, but the basement of his seemingly average bookshop conveniently manages to double as the perfect soundproof prison for kidnapped victims and an inconspicuous place in which to store their rotting corpses. Even when police officers literally catch him attempting to purchase body-disposal chemicals, their are so easily duped with a lie which works far too easily in Joe's favour that nothing about it feels remotely realistic. The unbelievable convenience of every aspect of the show transcends the bounds of reality to such an extent that, were we to overlook its absurd romanticism, it cannot even be hailed for good writing.
The only merit which cannot be ignored is the addictiveness of the gripping story. There is no denying the show's popularity, you only need look at its ratings to admit that much. And while the plot itself demands your entire suspension of disbelief, beyond the surface level plot holes, the story is compelling and captivating. Even so, an engrossing storyline cannot forgive the writers' refusal to account for some of the basic aspects of the storyline, or the disturbing romanticisation of a topic which is so obviously abhorrent. Penn Badgley himself has even had to take to Twitter to remind fans of the show that his character is not meant to be seen as romantic, because in the show the lines are so blurred. The unsettling insight into the psychopath's mind, and the ease with which he convinces the audience of his moral superiority (made all the more easier by the undeniably contemptuous nature of the other characters) makes the show disturbing on every level. Presenting such an ominous character through the lens of romance is not only unsettling, but also irresponsible on the part of the producers. It might keep you glued to your screen for a ten-episode-long marathon, but that cannot distract from the fact that, beneath the excitement of its storyline, lies an uncomfortable blurring between the boundaries of romance and psychopathy.
Grade: 5/10
The Best: The compelling and addictive storyline.
The Worst: The weird romanticisation of the main character, and the lack of consideration of the obvious flaws in the plot.
