Netflix Inc

Subterms

    More stories

    • 113 Shares179 Views

      in Television

      ‘Bridgerton’s’ Nicola Coughlan on Her Season 3 Glow Up

      by

      The stars of the Shondaland series, streaming on Netflix, are given very different looks when they’re promoted from the supporting cast — a phenomenon fans have dubbed “the Bridgerton glow-up.”When the actress Nicola Coughlan joined the cast of Shondaland’s period costume drama “Bridgerton,” as the young socialite and secret gossip pamphleteer Penelope Featherington, the hair and makeup artist Marc Pilcher informed her that the creative brief they had for her character was only one word: “dowdy.”Penelope, the demure youngest daughter of the domineering matriarch Lady Portia Featherington, was to be done up in garish pastel dresses and gaudy jewelry, with a hairdo clogged with curls — none of it particularly flattering. “For the first two seasons, the objective, in the nicest way, was not meant to make me look nice,” Coughlan said in a recent interview. “A lot of the Featherington aesthetic was a ‘more is more’ approach.”A supporting player through the show’s first two seasons, Penelope is the main character of Season 3, which begins streaming May 16 on Netflix. And as she has moved into the spotlight, her entire style has been altered: a transformation that fans of the show refer to as the “Bridgerton glow-up.”Gone are the canary-yellow gowns and tacky headpieces. She’s now wearing milder colors and less ostentatious jewelry, and her hairstyles are looser and more elegant. In short, she is no longer dowdy. “At the first fitting for Season 3, I got teary-eyed,” Coughlan said. “It felt like a ‘Pretty Woman’ moment. They were finally going to let me shine.”In Season 1, the brief for Nicola Coughlan’s character was a single word: “dowdy.”Liam Daniel/NetflixIn Season 3, as the leading lady, Coughlan gets a romantic look that showcases Penelope’s growing confidence.Laurence Cendrowicz/NetflixThis kind of stylistic reinvention has become common practice on a series known for rotating actors in and out of its sweeping ensemble, and adapting their appearances accordingly. “When the transition is made from side character to leading character, we think a lot about what story it is we’re trying to tell,” the showrunner and executive producer Jess Brownell explained. When it comes to styling, she said, “it’s a lot more heady when it comes to the main characters.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 113 Shares129 Views

      in Television

      What to Watch This Weekend: A Tense Restaurant Drama

      by

      Looking for some kitchen adrenaline between seasons of “The Bear”? Try the British series “Boiling Point” on Netflix.Ray Panthaki and Vinette Robinson cook up some drama in “Boiling Point.”James Stack“The Bear” will be back with a new season on June 27, but if you crave the adrenaline and misery of a fine-dining kitchen in the meantime, “Boiling Point,” on Netflix, puts its own tasty spin on similar ingredients.The show is technically a sequel to the 2021 movie “Boiling Point,” a single-shot movie about one catastrophic night at a fancy restaurant. This “Boiling Point,” which aired in Britain in 2023, picks up months later and includes many of the same characters. Urgent moments from the film surface in flashback, but the show feels like a distinct work, not just an iteration in a franchise. Its characters themselves are figuring out how to make something — a restaurant, even just one dish, even just one serving of that dish — that can stand on its own two feet, how to differentiate their work from the output of others.Our fearless leader is Carly (Vinette Robinson), who runs her kitchen with positivity and support, who believes in both order and praise. She is spread so thin you can see through her, and each passing minute drains her further. Her difficult mother, some rude investors, the squabbling subordinate chefs — everyone needs something from her. She clenches her fists while she sleeps, scowling with worry even while unconscious.When we meet her, Carly is giving an energizing pep talk and introducing a new chef around the kitchen. It soon becomes clear that he has overstated his qualifications, and things start falling apart. By the end of the night, the social structure of the staff is shattered, and catastrophe and chaos spiral from there for the subsequent four episodes. Nothing seems to go right, so much so that both the audience and the characters start to wonder: Has anything ever gone right?“Boiling Point” is festive with its dishes, and the ensemble chemistry is top-notch. Its real feat, though, is its sense of strength and failure. Carly and her staff are obviously capable, but it’s never enough. Stress motivates and destroys all the characters here, driving them to addiction, self-harm and exhaustion, but they also come back hungry for more striving, eager for more struggle. One must imagine Sisyphus saying “yes, chef.” More

    • 138 Shares179 Views

      in Movies

      Yance Ford’s “Power” Documentary Argues That Policing and Politics Are Inextricable

      by

      Though Yance Ford’s new Netflix documentary takes on a much-explored topic, its mix of personal and polemic makes for a strong argument.“Strong Island,” the 2017 Oscar-nominated documentary directed by Yance Ford, was a deep investigation into the death of Ford’s brother and a jury’s subsequent refusal to indict the man who shot him. There’s a flavor of the same grief and fury that drove that film in Ford’s newest work, “Power” (now streaming on Netflix), which methodically builds a case against modern American policing.Ford’s documentary is not the first on the subject, nor will it be the last. The intersection of policing and the justice system has been a compelling topic for documentarians for a long while now, spun up alongside investigative reporting that unpacks assumptions about law enforcement. The results have been kaleidoscopic in nature. Just to name a few:Stephen Maing’s “Crime + Punishment” (2018, on Hulu) followed the whistle-blower police officers known as the “N.Y.P.D. 12.”Peter Nicks’s “The Force” (2017, on Hulu) captured a seemingly unending chain of crises within the Oakland police department.Ava DuVernay’s “13TH” (2016, on Netflix) explored the roots of the prison-industrial complex.Theo Anthony’s “All Light, Everywhere” (2021, on Hulu) probed the pervasive role of surveillance, like police body cameras, in keeping order.And Sierra Pettengill’s “Riotsville, U.S.A.” (2022, on Hulu) took footage from fake towns built to train police to respond to civil unrest in the 1960s and turned it into a startling history of the militarization of law enforcement.“Power” is most like “13TH” in its structure and approach, relying largely on historical context, archival footage of network news and political speeches, and a bevy of scholars and experts to explain an array of issues. How did policing and politics get intertwined? Why did American police become more like the military? What does the term “law and order” mean on the ground? How and why are armed officers involved with everything from patrols to strikebreaking?But where “13TH” often took a poetic approach, “Power” mixes polemics and the personal. The aim, as the title suggests, is to underline how much of our contemporary conversations about policing are really about power: who is in a position of power, when can that power be used, and when is it given to others. Ford operates as narrator, his voice guiding us through the maze.This is heady stuff, even if it’s not particularly new information. As with many documentaries that aim to construct a political and social argument, it’s a little like drinking with a fire hose, even if you’re familiar with the history and questions. The point isn’t the data, but the spider-web nature of the argument; seemingly disparate things (labor strikes, slave patrols, the removal of Indigenous Americans from their land) are drawn together in “Power,” which becomes an act of pattern recognition. It is not easy viewing, but it’s a strong introduction to a topic that seems freshly relevant every day. More

    • 125 Shares129 Views

      in Television

      Woman Who Says She Inspired ‘Baby Reindeer’ Character Denies Stalking

      by

      The show, a surprise Netflix hit that says it is based on real events, had inspired viewers to try to uncover the real identities of the characters depicted onscreen.As the surprise success of “Baby Reindeer,” the Netflix drama about a comedian and his stalker, has highlighted the complications that can arise from basing a popular series on real events, a woman who claims to be the inspiration for the stalker character said on Thursday that much of the show’s plot was untrue, calling it a “work of fiction.”In the four weeks since “Baby Reindeer” debuted, it has been viewed more than 56 million times, according to data released by Netflix. The intense interest in the seven-episode series, which is billed as a true story based on the experience of the comedian Richard Gadd, has also spawned an army of amateur detectives trying to uncover the actual identities of the characters onscreen.Those efforts have resulted in the online abuse of a British writer and director as well as blowback for Netflix officials, one of whom was questioned about the streamer’s “duty of care” by a British lawmaker this week. Gadd has all but begged internet sleuths to stop digging, writing on social media: “Please don’t speculate on who any of the real life people could be. That’s not the point of the show.”But in an interview that ran Thursday, Fiona Harvey, who says that the show’s stalker character was modeled after her, provided her side of the story on camera for the first time.In “Baby Reindeer,” a woman named Martha (Jessica Gunning) approaches an aspiring comedian, Donny (Gadd), while he is working as a bartender and eventually torments him through emails and voice mail messages.In an hourlong interview on YouTube with the television personality Piers Morgan, Harvey said she had not watched the series — “I think I’d be sick,” she said — but had become aware of her connection to it after reading news media reports and being contacted by journalists. Certain details in the show had convinced some viewers that Harvey was the inspiration for Martha.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 138 Shares179 Views

      in Television

      ‘Bodkin’ Review: Crime in a Small Town? Send in the Podcasters

      by

      This Netflix series is about a true-crime podcast but plays more like a mopey murder show.There are worse shows to imitate than “Only Murders in the Building,” and perhaps “Bodkin,” premiering Thursday on Netflix, would be better if it had tried. It too is about the creation of a true-crime podcast, set in an enclave where quirky conflicts simmer for decades. It too pokes fun at the inanity of some podcasts, and it tries to weave a comedic pep into its pathos.But “Bodkin,” created by Jez Scharf and executive produced by Barack and Michelle Obama, among others, takes more inspiration from mopey foreign murder shows. It has that common pervasive dampness along with plenty of clannish townspeople who resent these nosy Nellies poking around where they have no business. None! [Cue the jangling of the bells hung above the doorway in a quaint shop.]Yes, there is a spooky local festival, and yes, the town’s top pastime is keeping dark secrets. No one asks direct questions, nor can anyone speak for long without drifting into a dreamy parable. The show is set in the present day, but the surroundings feel ancient.Our town here is Bodkin, a (fictional) Irish village where years ago, during the annual celebration of Samhain (a Gaelic proto-Halloween), three people disappeared. Now our podcasters are on the case: Gilbert (Will Forte), a mostly cheery American with some successful podcasts under his belt; Dove (Siobhan Cullen), a Dublin-raised, London-based reporter who perceives this assignment as a banishment; and Emmy (Robyn Cara), the eager research assistant who tolerates their shabby treatment. Gilbert is vaguely dopey but ingratiating. Dove is so sour she could pickle a sociopath. To the show’s credit, at least they do not hook up with each other.Dove says that true-crime stories aren’t real journalism, and while we’re led to believe she is an ace reporter, she seems unfamiliar with one of the core aspects of news gathering: earning the trust of potential sources. She is surly and rude to nearly everyone she meets. She breaks into a library after hours just because she’s impatient. Back in London, she had promised to protect a whistle-blower’s identity, but his name leaked somehow, and he later killed himself. This arc never fully meshes with the rest of the show, and it plays out mostly in terse phone calls. But everything with Dove is so one-note, it’s hard to see the specifics of her disrespect. Similarly, Gilbert’s money trouble and failing marriage — more phone calls — feel like tacked-on inventions rather than enriching character depth.Will there ever be a show in which a female journalist doesn’t sleep with a source or subject? The search continues. Emmy falls for the local tech wunderkind and Dove for the sharp funeral director. Gilbert too becomes awfully enmeshed, befriending Seamus (David Wilmot), a local fisherman with a, yes, fishy past. Forte and Wilmot have the most interesting chemistry in the show: Gilbert is eager for good sound bites and Seamus loves to pontificate, but their deeper purposes are at odds. Neither can fully mask his prickly distrust, but both are desperate for the connection anyway. It’s a dangerous, fruitful combo.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 150 Shares119 Views

      in Television

      Netflix Takes Comedy Live With Tom Brady Roast and Katt Williams Special

      by

      Sometimes that’s a good thing, as with John Mulaney’s variety show “Everybody’s in L.A.” But the Katt Williams special and Tom Brady roast were more uneven.On Friday night, in the premiere of his appealingly chaotic livestreaming variety show “Everybody’s in L.A.,” which runs every night this week, John Mulaney delivered a monologue about his adopted city next to a map that broke it down into a crooked jigsaw puzzle of neighborhoods.In his distinctive staccato cadence that could sell steak knives or a card trick as convincingly as the premise of a joke, he said, “One thing that unites every part of Los Angeles is that no matter where you go, there is zero sense of community.”For comedy fans, this past week felt different, because everywhere you went in Los Angeles, Netflix was there, blanketing the city in ads and shows for its Netflix Is a Joke Fest, running through May 12. It’s the biggest comedy showcase of the year (with more than 500 offerings, a 40 percent increase from the festival’s already mammoth debut event in 2022) but also something of a corporate flex. Who else could get Hannah Gadsby and Shane Gillis in the same festival or draw the talk-show titans Jon Stewart and David Letterman to host events? Or recruit Chris Rock to play the Billy Crystal role in a reading of the screenplay for “When Harry Met Sally,” with, as Rock introduced it, “an all-Black cast, like it was originally intended.” (Tracee Ellis Ross doing Meg Ryan’s fake orgasm, but louder, received standing ovations from the audience and onstage participants, too.)The most newsworthy shift this year was the aggressive move into livestreaming events, following the blockbuster success of Chris Rock’s 2023 special, “Selective Outrage,” about being slapped at the Oscars. (One of that ceremony’s hosts, Wanda Sykes, returned to the place it happened, the Dolby Theater, for a festival show and began by saying this time no one would get assaulted).For the live events, Netflix picked stars with current buzz. Along with the Mulaney variety show, Katt Williams followed up his viral “Club Shay Shay” interview with a new hour, “Woke Foke,” on Saturday, and Kevin Hart, whom Williams singled out in his interview for criticism, tried to bring back the dormant genre of celebrity roast on Sunday with “The Greatest Roast of All Time,” starring Tom Brady, widely considered the GOAT of quarterbacks. (After livestreaming, the shows can be watched on Netflix, sometimes in edited form.)As the last half-century of “Saturday Night Live” has proved, there is an undeniable excitement to live comedy, an irreplaceable energy that can create a sense of event. But there are significant dangers, not the least of which is that you can’t cut the boring or unfunny parts. Netflix built its comedy empire on elevating the standup special as an art form to rival film or TV. Highlighting live comedy represents a commercial move for Netflix, spotlighting events that promise unpredictability more than refinement, mess instead of polish.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 138 Shares199 Views

      in Movies

      What to Know about ‘Unfrosted’ and the Real History of Pop-Tarts

      by

      In his directorial debut, Jerry Seinfeld tackles the history of the fruit-filled pastries … kind of. Here’s the real origin story, along with a bonus quiz.First, there was the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos biopic (complete with an Oscar-nominated song). Then came “Tetris”; “Air,” about Nike Air Jordan sneakers; “BlackBerry”; and “Barbie.”It is, in other words, a golden age for product-origin-story movies.The latest is “Unfrosted: The Pop-Tarts Story,” a satirical history that Jerry Seinfeld has expanded from his stand-up act. The film, which he directed and stars in alongside Jim Gaffigan, Hugh Grant and Amy Schumer, arrives Friday on Netflix. Unlike its predecessors, it’s not really concerned with actual events. Here’s what to know about the true history of the Pop-Tart — and what the movie gets right and wrong.But first, how did Kellogg’s and Post both end up with headquarters in Battle Creek, Mich.?You would think ground zero in the Breakfast Wars of the 1960s might be somewhere most people could locate on a map. But Battle Creek, Mich., was home to the Battle Creek Sanitarium, known for its water and fresh air treatments, and managed by Will Keith Kellogg and his brother, John Harvey Kellogg. W.K. Kellogg developed a method of creating crunchy pieces of processed grain for his patients (read: Corn Flakes), and one of those patients, C.W. Post, would go on to start his own company in 1895 selling several foods that were veeeery similar to those at the sanitarium.W.K. Kellogg noticed Post profiting from his recipes and established his own firm in 1906, the Battle Creek Toasted Corn Flake Company. Within three years, it was cranking out more than 100,000 boxes of Corn Flakes a day, and, thanks to the success of Kellogg, Post and many other cereal companies, Battle Creek became known as the Cereal City. Who were the real Edsel Kellogg III and Marjorie Merriweather Post?Melissa McCarthy, Seinfeld and Jim Gaffigan in “Unfrosted.”Columbus 81 ProductionsThe bumbling chief executive of Kellogg’s, played by Gaffigan, is fictional (thank goodness). On the other hand, Marjorie Merriweather Post — the General Foods owner whom Schumer portrays as a turban-wearing caricature — was one of the first female chief executives and, for most of her life, considered the wealthiest woman in America. (Today she may be best known for building Mar-a-Lago, now Donald J. Trump’s base.)Did Post really come up with a toaster-prepared breakfast pastry first?Yes. In the 1960s, Post, then the biggest competitor to Kellogg’s, invented a process of partly dehydrating food and wrapping it in foil to keep it fresh; no refrigeration required. The process was initially used for dog food, but it also allowed fruit filling in, say, a toaster-prepared breakfast pastry to stay both moist and bacteria-free. (And yes, it was actually Post’s idea, not one ripped off from a Kellogg’s employee via a hidden vacuum cam.)Was the Post product really called Country Squares?Unfortunately, yes. The name was later changed to its current Toast’em Pop Ups, but is that really much better?How did Country Squares and Pop-Tarts end up hitting shelves the same year?Post jumped the gun and unveiled Country Squares to the press in February 1964, four months before they were ready to sell, allowing Kellogg’s time to frantically rustle up its own, much-better-named version.Did Bob Cabana really create the Pop-Tart?Nope, the “Unfrosted” flack (played by Seinfeld) is fictional. The man who helped create Pop-Tarts was a manager named William Post (yes, really), who died in February at 96.Gaffigan, left, Seinfeld, Fred Armisen and McCarthy with boxes of the film’s version of Pop-Tarts with an early (made-up) name.Columbus 81 ProductionsWhat was an actual rejected name for the Pop-Tart?The ones in the film — Fruit-Magoos, Heat ’Em Up and Eat ’Em Ups, Oblong Nibblers, Trat Pops — are made up. But the real rejected name — Fruit Scones — wasn’t much catchier. The final name, coined by a Kellogg’s executive, William LaMothe, was inspired by Pop Art, the contemporary cultural movement.Were Pop-Tarts really an overnight hit?Yes, but the first shipment to stores sold out in two weeks, not 60 seconds, as in “Unfrosted.” Kellogg’s apologized, in advertisements, but this only increased demand. (They were restocked before long.)Were the first flavors really unfrosted?Yes. The original flavors — all unfrosted — were Apple Currant Jelly, Strawberry, Blueberry and Brown Sugar-Cinnamon. The first frosted ones — Dutch Apple, Concord Grape, Raspberry and Brown Sugar-Cinnamon — didn’t hit the market until 1967. (William Post came up with the idea, disproving skeptics who believed the icing would melt in the toaster.) The next year, sprinkles were added to some of the frosted ones.Did Kellogg’s really advertise Pop-Tarts without a mascot?It did, though the decision didn’t set off a Hugh Grant-led mascot rebellion, as in “Unfrosted.” Kellogg’s rectified the omission in 1971, introducing Milton the Toaster. (The little guy didn’t make it out of the 1970s.)Which of these flavors are real?The past few decades have been a smorgasbord of Pop-Tart flavors, some very short-lived. Can you spot the four real flavors here?Chocolate PeppermintFroot LoopsGuava MangoHarry Potter Special Edition: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, PopcornMaple BaconTwizzlersAnswer: Chocolate Peppermint, Froot Loops, Guava Mango and Maple Bacon Pop-Tarts have all been on shelves at some point. The Harry Potter Bertie Bott’s Popcorn and Twizzlers flavors remain the stuff of our fever dreams. More

    • 125 Shares119 Views

      in Television

      What to Know About ‘Baby Reindeer,’ Netflix’s True-ish TV Hit

      by

      The mini-series, based on the star’s experiences, has viewers wondering how much of it is real. Here’s the back story.Some spoilers follow.“Baby Reindeer,” Netflix’s absorbing, claustrophobic seven-episode thriller, has been an unexpected global hit — a success made even more surprising given its intense themes. It is far and away the most-watched show on Netflix, according to the streamer’s publicly released numbers, dwarfing every other show on the platform.The mini-series follows the character of Donny Dunn, a bartender and floundering comedian trying to navigate the fog of trauma and cobble together a sense of self while being mercilessly stalked and tormented by a woman named Martha, with whom he maintains a codependent connection, despite the harassment. The title refers to one of Martha’s many nicknames for Donny.Here’s what’s real about “Baby Reindeer,” and what viewers seem most curious about.Yes, That Is the Real Guy“Baby Reindeer” is the work of Richard Gadd, 34, who plays Donny, a slightly fictionalized version of himself. And if you were wondering how a regular guy could be such a confident, complex actor, it’s because he is a seasoned, award-winning performer who parlayed his autobiographical one-man show, titled “Baby Reindeer,” into the series, for which he wrote every episode.But once upon a time, he was the self-loathing performer we see depicted. “Baby Reindeer” takes meta storytelling to new levels.Yes, It Is Based on His Real ExperiencesEarly in the first episode, a message across the screen reads, “This is a true story.” And it is.“It’s all emotionally 100 percent true,” Gadd, who was the real-life victim of the stalking, said in a recent interview with Variety. “It’s all borrowed from instances that happened to me and real people that I met.” True with the caveat that “for both legal and artistic reasons,” as he put it, details had to be changed. “You can’t just copy somebody else’s life and name and put it onto television,” he said. “We were very aware that some characters in it are vulnerable people,” he added, “so you don’t want to make their lives more difficult.”The series is largely punctuated by language from real messages sent by his stalker (played by Jessica Gunning), which we see typed out onscreen. In his one-man show, a 70-minute monologue that premiered at Edinburgh Festival Fringe and would go on to win an Olivier Award (Britain’s equivalent of the Tonys), Gadd played her voice mail messages to the audience, and projections of her emails scrolled across the venue’s ceiling.According to Gadd, she sent him over 41,000 emails, tweeted at him hundreds of times and left him 350 hours of voice mail over the course of a few years.For the series, certain timelines were moved around “to make them pay off a little better,” he said. Nonetheless, “it’s a very true story.”Gadd Has Asked Viewers Not to Dig …While the saga, at first glance, is one of stalking and obsession, it is equally about the life-shattering effects of sexual assault. In the fourth episode, Gadd’s character is repeatedly drugged, assaulted and raped by a powerful television writer named Darrien O’Connor (played by Tom Goodman-Hill) who’d made false promises to help catapult the comedian’s career. (The sexual assaults were explored in Gadd’s earlier solo show “Monkey See Monkey Do.”)“Abuse leaves an imprint,” Gadd recently told GQ magazine. “Especially abuse like this where it’s repeated with promises.”The depiction of the abuse is graphic and disturbing, and knowing that the characters were based on real people prompted great interest in the identities behind them. But Gadd was quick to urge viewers to stop investigating. “Please don’t speculate on who any of the real-life people could be,” he wrote on Instagram. “That’s not the point of our show.”… Yet Viewers Keep DiggingAs more and more people binge the show, social media platforms have become amateur detective rings, with viewers trying to suss out the identities of the characters. The British writer and director Sean Foley was the subject of online threats when some thought that he was the real-life Darrien character.“Police have been informed and are investigating all defamatory abusive and threatening posts against me,” Foley said in a post on X (formerly Twitter) in late April.On Instagram, Gadd defended Foley specifically, writing, “People I love, have worked with, and admire (including Sean Foley) are unfairly getting caught up in speculation.”In the first episode, Gadd’s character searches Martha’s name online and uncovers a trove of articles about her past stalking — “Serial Stalker Sentenced to Four and Half Years,” reads one headline — which led some online sleuths to try to find the actual versions of those same articles.The show has become such a phenomenon that The Daily Mail published an interview with a woman purporting to be the “real” Martha, lodging her complaints about the show, though her name was not disclosed.When GQ asked Gadd what the stalker might make of the show, he said, “I honestly couldn’t speak as to whether she would watch it,” calling her “an idiosyncratic person.”“We’ve gone to such great lengths to disguise her to the point that I don’t think she would recognize herself,” he said. “What’s been borrowed is an emotional truth, not a fact-by-fact profile of someone.” More