*The Witness* is the third take Netflix has presented on the Rachel Nickell murder case, and although it aims to tell the story from a unique perspective, it ultimately loses its way. To begin with, I have become a detractor of true-crime documentaries and dramatizations of real-life crimes. I know that starting a review this way might seem like blasphemy: why would someone who hates the genre review a work belonging to it? Well, it’s my job, and I was assigned to do it. As Spider-Noir once said: I don’t pick the ballroom; I just dance.
That’s not to say I’ve never liked this particular ballroom; I’ve seen works like *In Cold Blood*, *Mindhunter*, *Zodiac*, and *Memories of Murder*, and I’ve enjoyed them immensely. However, my aversion to the genre grew when I realized that these reenactments of real cases caused more harm than good to the victims, who simply wanted to be left alone. And when production quality began to slip and everything—from podcasts to TV shows—started treating these tragedies like soap operas, my disdain for both the creators and the consumers of this content skyrocketed. So yes: after seeing how Netflix had already milked Nickell’s harrowing story for all it was worth with *Deceit* and *The Murder of Rachel Nickell*, I didn’t have high hopes for *The Witness*—and yet, I still ended up disappointed.
Stars: Jordan Bolger, Neil Maskell, Max Fincham
If Murtaugh (the *Lethal Weapon* character) can be "too old for this shit"... well, you know how the line goes, then a real person (the child—now an adult—on whom the series' character is based) can be "too young," right? And, as always, no pun intended. Created by Rob Williams and directed by Alex Winckler, *The Witness* unfolds across two timelines: the 1990s and the 2000s. In the 1990s, we follow Andre and Alex as they become caught up in a media frenzy and an intense police investigation into the murder of Rachel, which took place in broad daylight. Since young Alex is the only eyewitness to the brutal crime, extracting details about that fateful day is crucial.
The challenge lies in the fact that, as a child, his memories of the murder are fragmented, and he has not yet fully developed the ability to articulate what he remembers. Suspicion falls on an individual named Stagg, whose presence at the crime scene has been corroborated by others; however, the evidence is insufficient to imprison him. The situation is further complicated by another heinous murder committed by a man named Napper, causing the media circus to spiral out of control.
Faced with this, Andre decides to take Alex to France to prevent them both from losing their sanity. The portion of the story set in the 2000s focuses on an older Andre and a teenage Alex. They are living in Spain, and although they appear to have rebuilt their lives, their actions suggest otherwise. Their inner turmoil intensifies when a new team of investigators reopens the murder case. And while these investigators are convinced they can prove Napper is the culprit, neither Andre nor Alex is certain their relationship will survive this emotional rollercoaster.
As previously mentioned, the decision to tell the story from the perspectives of Andre and Alex is compelling; it distinguishes *The Witness* from other true-crime dramas—which typically unfold from the investigators' point of view—and reveals to genre fans the immense emotional toll such investigations take on victims' families.
Furthermore, I find the work's conclusion—in which Andre and Alex debate the nature-versus-nurture dichotomy—to be thought-provoking. However, everything that happens in between ends up tarnishing the miniseries, as the events unfolding between the first episode and the finale differ not at all from any other film or series based on a real-life criminal case. And no, the excuse that a cyclical narrative is meant to underscore the grueling nature of these criminal investigations is no longer convincing—especially since it is a device we have seen ad nauseam.
Furthermore, judging by the miniseries' own premise, that is not the message it aims to convey. The goal is to explore how this case affected the dynamic between father and son. Did the production team simply forget to shoot scenes of Andre and Alex doing something unrelated to the investigation? It is like being promised a hamburger and getting served two slices of bread with no meat, vegetables, or mayonnaise in between: the bread is edible, but it isn't a hamburger.
From a visual storytelling standpoint, *The Witness* is competent. The juxtaposition of fictional and real footage is opportunistic, but that is the hallmark of the genre right now, so I can't complain. The production design, costumes, art direction, hair and makeup, set design—and, well, everything on screen—look period-accurate. The sound design is solid, though the musical score is somewhat derivative. However, few scenes truly stand out; I suppose when you make a serious miniseries about a serious subject, you aren't allowed to film, edit, or score scenes with even a shred of style or energy—otherwise, you’d be kicked off the set and fired.
The performances across the entire cast are brilliant. Jordan Bolger, Max Fincham, and Jahsaiah Williams are truly the heart of the miniseries. Neil Maskell, Kevin Eldon, and Paul Chahidi effortlessly deliver masterclasses in acting. James Bradshaw, James Dryden, Eleanor Williams, and the rest of the supporting cast are absolutely excellent. I only wish everything around them lived up to their acting prowess. I understand that true-crime dramas aren't going anywhere; they’ve become the bread and butter of streaming platforms. But I believe that if *The Witness* had truly focused on that father-son dynamic, it could have changed the landscape of the genre. Since it didn't, I suppose we’re stuck recycling the same criminal cases and subjecting them to...
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