Skip to main content

Netflix: "The Keepers"

IT'S TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE MURDERED NUN.

Here is what we know, after episode one:

-There are two spunky old ladies who have a JUSTICE FOR THE MURDERED NUN Facebook campaign. The two old ladies read their Facebook feed and make inquiries, and worry together about how to make certain other hypothetical inquiries. One approaches an archivist with a broad smile and says, "I'm looking for this file! I asked before, and it didn't turn up, but I find if I ask a second time, things sometimes magically turn up! So I wonder if maybe this file has made its way back to its proper slot since the last time I asked?" Flash those pearly whites. The archivist--perhaps aware that a camera is trained on her--smiles right back and says, "Let's give this a shot!" Here's the moment I fell in love with "The Keepers." So many daffy bits of subtext, tucked away like sapphires in the vast minefield that is this murder inquiry. (One of the spunky old ladies describes herself as the textual scholar in this operation, because she really hates "dealing with actual people." Her friend is "the one who deals with people." We see pretty quickly that this dichotomy is false; this story, like so many other stories that people tell about themselves, is an over-simplification of the Matters At Hand.)

-Can we linger over the moment when Spunky Lady II flirts with the loony, nefarious investigator with the big, white beard? "I bet you could ask your former colleagues at the police office for help with your nun questions. You know why? Because you look like Paul Newman. Everyone would want to assist you, because you LOOK SO MUCH LIKE MR. NEWMAN! It's those baby blues, Sweetheart! You know it!!!" This moment of lunacy is followed by silence. The police officer, who bears little, if any, resemblance to Paul Newman, simply demurs. We sense he has some kind of secret Pact with the Devil. Spunky Lady II, like a bull-dog, reminds the nefarious cop, and the camera, that "this nun was a teacher of mine, and so dear to me, and so I just really, really want to see that justice is served." As if we had not heard the first, or fourth, or tenth time she said this. And we fade to black.

-"I remember thinking, O Dear, a year of discussing ROMEO AND JULIET? THIS is going to kill me."

-Why did non-murdered Math Nun wait so long to call the police after she realized that English Lit Nun had disappeared? The episode teases us with this question, then leaves it unaddressed for the next forty minutes, at least. Sweet torture! And who is Jane Doe??

-And then there's the wealth of random detail the episode offers, like any good crime novel. Why was Murdered Nun's car left far, far from her body, and dangling ostentatiously out into the road, so that you couldn't miss it? Where did the twigs come from? The twigs!!! Second Murder Victim was warned by her mother--on the very night of her murder--to be "careful out there on the streets, because of the killer who is still loose." She was warned--and then, that very night, she was killed! "Forensics becomes very difficult after forty-five years. The blood dries up, the tissue deteriorates, the witnesses die." Part of what gives this show the aura of a Greek tragedy is that something from an earlier decade still has such an impact on the present. The poison of earlier generations is transmitted--generously!--to us, today. You might recall "Spotlight," as you watch this first episode--how there is a kind of community-wide evil, a silent form of consent, a way of saying, without words, "We're all going to turn a blind eye to what is happening here." So that the intrepid investigators risk vilification simply for trying to hold people accountable--for calling attention both to sins of commission and to sins of omission. And do you love the witness who recalls being a high-school student and dreaming up some Sly Fun? "Let's look up the spots where our teachers actually live, then stare at their windows!" Does this take you back immediately to your own high-school days? This innocent prankster went out to stare at a math guy's window--"That's where he lives! He really lives there!" (though he was out watching EASY RIDER in a theater, at the time)--and, while staring, she heard a scream. Evocations of Kitty Genovese here, or of a Shirley Jackson story. I will most certainly be watching more. There's nothing like an eight-hour late-July date with a murdered nun!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...