India’s true crime problem – ArtReview

In India, documentaries about true crimes are used to reinforce patriarchal fantasies

Two new documentaries reveal how a woman’s contemporary life in India continues to be viewed and irreparably shaped by a patriarchal lens

Beyond their salacious details, two recent true crime documentaries about particularly gruesome murders offer an example of how contemporary women’s lives in India continue to be viewed through and irreparably shaped by a patriarchal lens. Curry and cyanide: the Jolly Joseph case (2023; directed by Christo Tomy) and The Indrani Mukerjea Story: Buried Truth (2024; directed by Uraaz Bahl and Shaana Levy), both streaming on Netflix, present a blend of drama, scandal, sex and the grotesque that appeals to the voyeur in all of us. In other words, they make for good TV. But they also unwittingly offer an examination of the extent of patriarchy’s hypocrisy, a commentary on India’s class system, an expose on how the mass media has become addicted to sensationalism to turn news into entertainment and a spotlight on the double standards of the society. These are all realities that have been further designed to put women ‘in their place’.

Curry and cyanide follows the case of Jolly Joseph from Kerala, who, in pursuit of a life of wealth and luxury, allegedly murdered six people, including a two-year-old child, over a period of fourteen years by mixing cyanide into their food. The Indrani Mukerjea Storymeanwhile, follows the alleged murder of her daughter, Sheena Bora, by the media mogul of the same name. While family dysfunction was at the heart of the sensational media coverage of the case, it also took the shine off the lives of the rich and famous, who remain the target of India’s very large middle class of both aspiration and extreme jealousy. . Least of the murder’s many sordid details was the fact that Mukerjea attempted to pass off her daughter from a previous marriage as her younger sister, who was dating Mukerjea’s stepson (the son of her third husband) shortly before her alleged murder. . his first wife). While we never hear or see Jolly Joseph enter Curry and cyanide, Mukerjea is interviewed extensively and knows how to work the cameras. After being released on bail, her dance classes, yoga moves, travels, a tell-all book and public speaking engagements have been on display for her 1.5 million followers on Instagram.

At this point, it almost doesn’t matter whether any of these women are guilty or not. Once news of the murders was made public and subsequently sensationalized in the media, the narrative surrounding both cases quickly narrowed to how Joseph and Mukerjea, both from humble backgrounds, were ambitious gold seekers who had had multiple relationships and thus a had loose morals. . Similar insinuations are made by interviewees in the documentaries, whether they are Mukerjea’s former friends, or her daughter by her second husband, or Joseph’s sister-in-law. This examination of personal lives, regardless of their relevance to the alleged crime, is a given, as is society’s supposed right to judge them according to vague moral standards. In a culture that exoticizes and idolizes the mother (most obviously as the symbol of the nation), public debate condemned one murder of a child and another of her own daughter as contrary to the laws of nature and nurture .

The ethics of true crime documentaries and podcasts, such as Serial can be volatile, especially when cases are still in court, as is the case with both Joseph and Mukerjea. But what these two documentaries do highlight is the difference in treatment when the suspect is a woman instead of a man. For example, Dahaad (2023), a fictionalized adaptation of the case of a serial killer from Karnataka who also used cyanide to kill his female victims, and The snake (2021), based on the life of serial killer Charles Sobhraj, portrays the crime they committed as an aberration, a personal flaw of one man. While for Joseph, Mukerjea and others like them, the documentaries quickly become a commentary on what happens when women in general Allowed to do what they want. There would never be any redemption for them in the public consciousness. The documentaries only seem to further this stereotyping, reinforcing the social conditioning that determines how women are seen, treated and talked about. Joseph and Mukerjea become cautionary tales of what happens when women dare to be ambitious, defy patriarchal expectations and exceed the boundaries society sets for them. It doesn’t matter that one is a middle-class woman in a remote village and the other is a wealthy public figure in glitzy Mumbai. Their damnation is the same regardless of class, caste or financial status. And therein lies the problem for all independent-minded women, whether accused of a crime or not.

Deepa Bhasthi is a writer based in Kodagu