When I hit play on Netflix’s Amanda Knox documentary, I went in with an open mind. Which is another way of saying I knew next to nothing about Amanda Knox. My first instinct – a vestige from a tumultuous 8-year stint as a journalist – was to bone up on the case. But then I decided to embrace my ignorance and let the film tell me the story for the first time. And I’m glad I did. What a ride!
In 2007, Meredith Kercher, a British student in Perugia, Italy, was sexually assaulted and stabbed to death. Amanda Knox, her roommate, was sentenced to life in prison for the murder. She spent four years in prison before she was acquitted by the Supreme Court.
A few minutes in, Amanda, looking like a perfectly moisturized peach, says straight to the camera – “either I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing… or I’m you.” And the writer-director Brian McGinn and director Rod Blackhurst manage to maintain this dichotomy for up to three quarters of the way through.
Characters flesh themselves out, earn our trust. New characters emerge to turn the case on its head. Then facts or personality facets are unveiled that shatter their credibility.
For instance, the chief prosecutor/investigator Giuliano Mignini gives you one of the most humane perspectives of a policeman at a gruesome crime scene. But a few sound bites later, he confesses he’s a fan of Sherlock Holmes, and you see actual footage of him going about the ‘investigation’ with a pipe clenched in his teeth.
Then you have Nick Pisa, who covered the case for the Daily Mail as an independent journalist. He said getting a front page exclusive of the autopsy report was like “having sex or something”.
The excellent background score, though prone to a bit of primetime TV drama on occasion, complements the narrative wonderfully.
It was all quite gripping, but I couldn’t shake off a persistent discomfort. I first put it down to an attack of conscience; I was enjoying a story of murder and false conviction too much, perhaps? But it turned out to be déjà vu from covering the Aarushi Talwar case on the news desk of a national news channel and then as part of the online team in a national newspaper.
Right after I finished Amanda Knox, I saw Meghna Gulzar’s Talvar. The similarities in the two cases are incredible – sexual intrigue, intense media pressure, inept investigation, flip-flop convictions and acquittals. But the experience of watching Talvar was completely different.
The luxury of ignorance I had with Amanda Knox, I didn’t have with Talvar. Where I knew nothing about Meredith Kercher’s murder, I was saturated with information about Aarushi’s. Not only did we feed on every scrap of non-information at the news channel, but we followed with fascinated horror at the spiralling sensational coverage of rival and regional media.
Opinions were wildly contradictory. A friend of mine who has known the Talwar family for years insisted the couple were incapable of something so horrendous. A veteran journalist I admired was convinced the world, and the national capital region in particular, was a filthy place where deviant sex and murderous parents thrived.
Despite her ‘weird’ or counter-intuitive responses at various stages of the case, Amanda’s innocence isn’t hard to accept, thanks to available evidence. In the Aarushi case, on the other hand, I was too jaded to make an assumption one way or another.
That said, Talvar is one of the slickest ‘inspired by true events’ feature films I’ve seen. Pitch perfect portrayals for the most part – for instance, Gajraj Rao, who plays a paan-chewing caricature of an inspector, seemed fa bit forced in the first few acts, before he caught his rhythm.
Irrfan Khan is understated genius, Konkana Sen Sharma is authentic, and Neeraj Kabi is a revelation. Talvar had a delicious Roshomon treatment. Konkana and Neeraj act out multiple theories and even their own recollections of the event. To watch them so convincingly portray these conflicting scenarios is discombobulating.
Beyond the crime, the ham-fisted investigation, and the embarrassing bureaucracy, what makes you most uncomfortable is the public scrutiny of the two cases. The Italian police, to scare her into a confession, told Amanda Knox she had AIDS. A little later, her private diary, in which she made a list of men she slept with and wondered which of them it could have been, was leaked to the press. The Talwars’ everyday life and regular identities was scorched by wanton speculation of sexual misconduct and the relentless glare of the media.
The public may not have asked for it, but we sure as hell lapped it all up, if only to condemn it. Makes you wonder how much you are to blame, doesn’t it? Well, here’s a chance to take a step back and observe the phenomenon as a viewer. Go to Netflix, and watch them back to back – Amanda Knox and Talvar.
(Anand Venkateswaran is a former journalist, and inveterate storyteller. He currently works as a branding and communications consultant. He writes passable ad copy and moonlights as a film and literary critic.)
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