The Jinx: A Monumental Shift In The Power Of Television
HBO’s docu-series The Jinx, which chronicles the wake of death and destruction left by accused killer Robert Durst, made headlines when Durst was arrested on the day the finale aired. Decades from now, the series may be most famous for resulting in the arrest. But the entertainment industry will remember the series as the start of a monumental shift in the power of film and television.
It isn’t as though there has never been a television show that resulted in arrests – John Walsh, host of America’s Most Wanted, would undoubtedly leap at the chance to tell you that. In fact, he might even tell you that he paved the way for a series like The Jinx. He would be wrong.
It wasn’t Walsh, or America’s fascination with criminals who get away, or the popularity of true-crime TV that brought The Jinx to our television screens.
We’re taught to believe it’s shameful, but it certainly isn’t a secret: humans are vain. Every advertising agency in the world knows this, and 99.9 percent of them capitalize on it. Since its inception, so has the entertainment industry. Both industries present us with the most ideal versions of ourselves, trying to appeal to us to consume their products to achieve that ideal, or maybe just to watch their films and pretend for awhile that we could.
Now think about your smartphone – I assume you aren’t a dinosaur and that you have one. How many applications allow you to instantly share your thoughts or your feelings to any size audience you see fit? Think about how many platforms there are to access information – any kind of information at all – constantly available at your fingertips. Now think about how pretty much every person you know has that same access. The capability to ensure the widespread sharing of information today is dauntingly endless – especially when the source of that information is as well-known and well-funded as HBO.
What brought Robert Durst out of his reclusive existence? What made him, after avoiding trials for two murders – for his wife and for his friend, Susan Berman – and escaping conviction for another, decide to give a tell-all interview?
HBO finally learned how to capitalize on what social media platforms learned ages ago: a cocktail of human vanity and the promise of widespread dissemination of information. It was this prospect that, I have no doubt, appealed so strongly to Robert Durst that he would willingly get before a camera, clearly with no understanding that the filmmaker was intending to interview other people for outside perspectives, and tell his story despite urging from legal representation that he could easily incriminate himself.
I’m not sure what drew the other folks who were interviewed in this series out of the woodwork. For some, it could have been vanity. For most, such as the members of law enforcement and the justice system who had failed to convict Durst of any crime, it seemed perhaps their battle had never ended. Maybe, for some, it was both.
Watching the series makes one wonder how the tales from the people interviewed had remained for so long as disjointed puzzle pieces never even put into the same box. Perhaps it was because all the crimes occurred in different places, and the reach of local law enforcement and justice departments just wasn’t encompassing enough. Maybe there wasn’t enough time or the resources. Maybe people are just more enticed by the prospect of being seen on national television, now handily accessible on computer screens, on tablets, on phones. Or maybe none of the above.
By telling the stories of people from every corner of Durst’s life (with the exception of representation from his family) in one place, coupled with Durst’s own testimony, The Jinx was able to uncover evidence that perhaps otherwise never would have been found. (I won’t say what it was – even though we all know he was arrested, that piece of evidence is an excellent reveal from a dramatic standpoint, and one you may have missed in local media. It’s only a handful of episodes – go spend a Sunday bingewatching it. You won’t regret it.)
When confronted with the evidence, Durst could not deny that it was incriminating. The filmmaker/interviewer was satisfied, and left Durst in the hotel room where they’d conducted the interview, with his microphone – unbeknownst to him – still on.
“There it is,” he said to himself. “You’re caught.”
The more widely quoted dialogue was that which ended the episode moments later: “What the hell did I do? Killed them all, of course.”
And with that, we entered an era where, by leveraging its reach and appealing to one of the basest human emotions, television became more than just an art form and a medium for storytelling. It became not a storyteller, but a story-maker.
The most brilliant part of is that it wasn’t even their idea – it was Durst’s.