Reese Witherspoon, the peoples’ librarian and star of Four Christmases aka knock-off Love Actually, said in a recent podcast interview, with regards to what books she selects for her book club, that she has a “no women locked in basements” rule. To be clear, this is a rule I also follow in my day-to-day life, save for Sunday afternoons in my lightless cave watching 2005 rom-coms with 1200 calories of McDonald's breakfast by my side. The “women locked in basements” genre is one pillar of best-selling fiction, both on the page and on the screen. Every tween girl from my own tween years was simultaneously traumatized by and addicted to The Lovely Bones, and then graduated to either Law and Order: Special Victims Unit (not me), or to British crime shows (me).
One such latter show is Luther, starring Idris Elba as the titular character, and follows a brilliant, damaged detective (Luther) as he hunts down serial killers and regular ‘ole killers while stomping around London with his hands stuffed into his one trench coat with a perplexed-yet-annoyed-yet-sultry look plastered on his face. In one episode, a woman comes home from work and can’t find her roommate. A thud comes from the top floor of their house, and viewers put aside their curiosity over how two twenty-somethings can afford a three story house in central London to watch her go towards the noise. Like any sane viewer, I alternated covering my eyes with my hand with screaming “That house isn’t empty!” It of course wasn’t, but I digress.
There is an addictive quality in stories that depict “real life but worse” scenarios. If aggressively real-life shows like Fleabag or Insecure live at the low end of escapism television, and fantasy and sci-fi shows live at the high end, then crime shows and their serial killers, stalkers, and too-crafty-with-a-suitcase ex-boyfriends live in the middle. There is no tangible benefit to consuming these stories except to instill an overconfidence that we, too, would be able to identify five suspects off the top of our heads that would be most likely to murder a murdered friend. Hypothetically! And, of course, a relief that we’re not the one being stuffed into a car trunk.
Recently, my dad was going out of town for a few days, and I informed him, to his surprise, that I do not take my evening bubble bath when the house is empty, because I do not want to be murdered in the most vulnerable position possible, completely off-guard! Pass!
I detailed my routine of making sure the house is murderer free before I put on the popcorn, eliciting a reasonable question from him: “What would you do if you actually found someone?”
Nothing, is the answer. But if that’s the way I’m going to “go,” I want to know about it! This is the only explanation I can come up with for why characters go towards the freaky sound or half open closet door. I yell at them on the TV, but honestly, I would do the same thing. The relief of knowing you are safe outweighs an awareness that there are situations where you may not be.
The broad “women locked in a basement” storylines in crime shows, especially shows that run for multiple seasons and rely on multiple plot lines and tropes, is inevitable when held up to the light of the violent shows we’ve popularized as consumers. Viewers don’t spend too much time getting up in arms about yet another show depicting grotesque violence against women, because we’re numb to yet addicted to them.
This genre of television does little in the way of men changing their predatory behaviors against women, and if anything, I worry it gives them ideas. The main public benefit is prompting a conversation between women and the rest of the world about how it feels to move through the world in fear, and still, I always finish shows like this wondering, “Who was that for?” But that’s a question for a different day…I have a suitcase closet to search before eating my yogurt.
All I want for my birthday (THIS SUNDAY!) is to be able to safely blast ABBA in my AirPods while skipping home from a few vodka tonics.
If anything happens to me, please call Idris Elba and see if he can help!
Crime drama recommendations ranked by their level of “women locked in basement-ness”:
Shetland (Prime) - 2/10
The murder per capita rate of this 23,000 person island is obscene, but at least everyone is fair game.
Marcella (Netflix) - 4/10
The main detective actually being a woman is a plus in the show’s overall basement-locking score, big shocker.
Big Little Lies (HBO) - 4.5/10
Poor Celeste!
Broadchurch (Netflix) - 5/10
A tame show as far as graphic violence in this genre goes, but the second and third seasons dabble in basement-locking territory.
Luther (HBO) - 9/10
Let’s just say, I was more shocked when a woman actually did survive an episode.
The Fall (Peacock) - 10/10
50 Shades’s Jaime Dornan brings “cannibal Armie Hammer” energy to this show about a psychosexual serial killer, which makes me wonder, should we dig into his DMs next?
Idris Elba once said about Meryl Streep: "When I met her, my tongue swelled up in my mouth!"