Icons & scandals: truth or dare?

Hey everyone, and welcome to this episode of Cappuccino & Croissant, where today, we're playing detective, movie star, and even shadow politician—all while sipping our coffee, of course. Get ready to enjoy your cappuccino in binge-watch mode, because we're diving into the world of docuseries and biopics that have us completely hooked. Why? Because we love reality… or at least the dramatized version that gets served up on screen!

So, what’s on the agenda today? We’re looking at three ultra-trendy genres that are killing it on Netflix and in your news feeds: true crime docuseries that keep us on the edge of our seats, biopics that make us dream or weep, and political documentaries that take us behind the scenes of power. And spoiler alert: we’re not just skimming the surface! We’ll explore why these narratives captivate us so much, all through the lens of series from around the globe—from France to Asia, and Africa to Australia and the UK. Buckle up for a worldwide screen adventure!

True Crime Documentaries - Morbid Fascination or Quest for Justice?

True crime has always captivated audiences, but with the explosion of streaming platforms, it’s become a global phenomenon. So, why are we so drawn to these stories of murder, investigations, and criminal mysteries? Straddling the line between a thirst for justice and a somewhat morbid curiosity, this genre invites us to explore an intriguing boundary. What’s clear is that these narratives pull us in for both the thrill they offer and the deeper reflections they provoke.

Let’s face it, true crime taps into our primal instincts. Admit it, we love to play Sherlock Holmes from the comfort of our screens, trying to guess who’s guilty or dissecting every clue. But it goes beyond that. These stories activate our natural curiosity, prompting us to confront the inhumane and look horror in the face—all while cozied up on our couches. There’s a comforting aspect: the story is horrifying, but it won’t touch us directly. We’re spectators, not participants.

And here’s where it gets essential. For some, true crime represents a quest for truth and justice, but for others, it veers into morbid fascination. Certain documentaries dangerously flirt with voyeurism. We know that some series exaggerate the facts, ramping up the suspense to capture audiences, even at the expense of reality. The line between entertainment and respect for victims becomes blurry, raising questions. Can we truly justify turning human tragedies into sensational shows?

Take Making a Murderer, which literally redefined the genre. This Netflix series highlighted how the American judicial system could be called into question. We follow the story of Steven Avery, accused of murder in a case that becomes more complex and unjust with each episode. This documentary sparked a cultural shock, awakening a public desire to challenge institutions while captivating viewers like a gripping thriller.

Similarly, The Jinx on HBO made waves. The subject? Robert Durst, a wealthy heir accused of multiple murders. But the series goes beyond the investigation. What made The Jinx so fascinating is the sense that, behind the criminal story, there’s a psychological manipulation game at play. Robert Durst seems to trap himself in his own lies, culminating in a shocking moment where he incriminates himself. A real eye-opener.

In France, we also have our share of captivating true crime series. L’affaire Grégory, also on Netflix, exemplifies the obsession surrounding an unsolved mystery. In 1984, a child was found drowned in the Vosges, and since then, the truth has remained elusive. This case marked France, but the documentary reignites the debate decades later, blending painful memories with new revelations. Again, we see the dual effect of true crime: both a quest for justice and a way for the public to relive this story from a captivating emotional and narrative angle.

And how can we not mention Faites entrer l’accusé? This cult program on France Télévisions kept millions of French viewers on the edge of their seats for years. Each episode dissected major legal cases, showcasing the behind-the-scenes of trials and investigations. With a more journalistic style, it helped popularize true crime while remaining relatively subdued. Still, the public loved diving into these sordid tales, as if the boundary between reality and fiction was gradually fading.

In Asia, true crime is also on the rise. For instance, Crime Stories: India Detectives on Netflix takes us into criminal investigations in India. It reveals a different dynamic between law enforcement and suspects, highlighting the country’s cultural specifics. Yet the suspense remains universal. Meanwhile, in South Korea, The Raincoat Killer explores the terrifying case of a serial killer who traumatized Seoul. Here again, we see the clash between the horror of the crimes and the public's fascination, amplified by a culture that values discretion and emotional control.

In Africa, while less known, true crime is carving its niche. The Ripper, a South African documentary, revisits a series of murders that occurred in the '70s and '80s. Though this production hasn't received the same attention as its American or European counterparts, it shows that the thirst for understanding evil transcends borders.

Finally, in Australia, the Bogle-Chandler mystery continues to haunt minds. This ABC documentary recounts the case of two bodies found under strange circumstances in the '60s. The mystery still lingers, and the public loves to speculate on what might have happened that day.

So, why this fascination with true crime? On one hand, there's the adrenaline of feeling involved in an investigation, the illusion of solving the puzzle before anyone else. On the other hand, there's that strange attraction to human darkness. Perhaps, in some way, true crime allows us to exorcise our own fears while satisfying a morbid curiosity. But this mass consumption of such tragic narratives raises a question: by turning reality into spectacle, are we risking the trivialization of violence and the suffering of victims? True crime is like a distorted mirror: it shows us the worst of humanity, but often with too much flair.

Celebrity Biopics - Where Reality Ends and Legend Begins?

Celebrity biopics are a genre that continually captivates audiences. Why? Because icons, whether they’re musical, cinematic, or political, have that almost mystical power to draw us in and make us dream. We love to learn about their journeys, their successes, but more importantly, their flaws. We’re fascinated by the idea that behind the fame, there are real humans with their own dramas and struggles. Yet, what’s even more intriguing is that blurry line between reality and the legend they become on screen.

Take Bohemian Rhapsody, the film about Freddie Mercury that smashed box office records. On one hand, Queen fans adored seeing their idol come to life on screen, with Rami Malek delivering a stellar performance. On the other hand, critics pointed out the many liberties taken with reality. From rearranged timelines to softened aspects of Mercury's personal life, this film strays far from raw truth. But is that really what the audience was after? Not necessarily. What this biopic managed to capture was the energy and spirit of Freddie Mercury—his blend of flamboyance, talent, and mystery. The magic of a biopic often lies in its ability to present an "optimized" version of reality, sitting somewhere between historical truth and gilded legend.

And this isn’t an isolated case. Rocketman, the biopic about Elton John, takes a similar approach. While Bohemian Rhapsody tried to stay relatively grounded, Rocketman dove headfirst into fantasy and exaggeration. With musical sequences that feel like a psychedelic dream, this film never pretends to be a mere re-enactment; rather, it offers an artistic interpretation of Elton John's life. And honestly, it works! Because Elton John's life is a spectacle in itself. Yet again, we find ourselves questioning: at what point does art become a rewriting of reality? This type of biopic reminds us that celebrities aren’t just people; they’re symbols, stories, and sometimes the legend matters more than the truth.

In France, this phenomenon is just as visible with biopics like Cloclo. The film about Claude François exemplifies how France handles its icons. Where Bohemian Rhapsody sought to amplify the greatness of a man, Cloclo focuses on his shadows. Claude François was an absolute star, but he was also a complex man, demanding and sometimes tyrannical in his pursuit of perfection. The film doesn’t shy away from his flaws, and perhaps it’s this honesty that made it a success in France. We’re drawn to these larger-than-life figures, but we also want to uncover their imperfections, making them more relatable and human. There’s something comforting about the idea that even the greatest are not perfect.

The same goes for Dalida, a biopic that tells the tragic story of another French music icon. The film charts her rise to fame but also delves into her inner turmoil, difficult relationships, and battle with depression. Once again, we face a blend of truth and dramatized storytelling. Yet what these films manage to capture is raw emotion, the feeling that we’re witnessing an extraordinary life, even if everything isn’t always 100% true to reality.

This trend isn’t confined to the West. In Asia, biopics also find their footing. For instance, The Untold Story from Hong Kong combines elements of biopic and true crime, recounting a story that is both chilling and intriguing. This film doesn’t follow the same legendary path as Western biopics but explores how narratives can be adapted and modified to fit local sensibilities. Similarly, Manto, an Indian biopic about writer Saadat Hasan Manto, plays by the same rules. This provocative writer, who lived through the partition of India, is a powerful symbol in South Asia. The film doesn’t just recount his life; it captures the essence of his writings and thoughts on society and morality. Once more, reality is reshaped to serve a more artistic vision of Manto’s life.

And what about Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom? This South African biopic about Nelson Mandela is a striking example of how history can morph into myth. Mandela is a global figure, a symbol of the fight against oppression. But this biopic makes a choice: it doesn’t solely focus on the darkest moments of his life but seeks to glorify his journey. This raises the essential question: how faithful should a biopic be? Mandela is already a legend, but this film further reinforces that status. Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily. What the public was looking for here wasn’t a critique but a celebration of his legacy.

Even in Australia, there’s a desire to tell the stories of great figures. I Am Woman, the biopic about Helen Reddy, an Australian singer and feminist icon, shows how her songs accompanied a social movement. Here, music becomes a character in its own right, and while the story is slightly dramatized, it captures the revolutionary spirit of the '70s. Like with Elton John or Freddie Mercury, what matters here is the emotional impact.

So why do these biopics sometimes choose to stray from raw reality? Simple: sometimes, reality just isn’t enough. Studios know that audiences are primarily looking to feel something. Emotion, catharsis—that’s what resonates with viewers. Historical truth often becomes a matter of compromise. It’s not always about manipulating reality, but rather making it more accessible, more cinematic. It’s a subtle game between authenticity and storytelling. But in the end, legend nearly always prevails. Because what we remember isn’t the exact chronology of events, but the emotions we felt while reliving them on screen.

Political Documentaries - Polished Portraits or Critical Insights?

Political documentaries are a fascinating genre because they immerse us in the lives of the figures shaping our world. But where it gets interesting is that these films are never truly neutral. They often present a perspective that wavers between admiration and critique, while simultaneously shaping the image of these personalities. So, can we really talk about objectivity when it comes to politics?

Take The Final Year, for example, a documentary that takes us through Barack Obama’s last year in office. We see the presidential team, filled with hope and determination, trying to wrap up important issues before Donald Trump takes over. What’s striking is that the film feels almost like a farewell letter to Obama’s leadership, glorifying the challenges and successes of his administration. The emotions are palpable, but is it really impartial? Not so much. You can clearly sense the film’s intent to humanize Obama and evoke nostalgia for that era in stark contrast to what was to come. Yet that’s the power of a documentary: it tells a story, even when it’s biased.

This type of treatment isn’t exclusive to the U.S. In France, we have Le Pouvoir, which offers exclusive access to the inner workings of François Hollande’s presidency. Like many political documentaries, it doesn’t take a confrontational stance. We see Hollande facing tough decisions, supported by a dedicated team. We’re almost tempted to feel sympathy for this man often harshly judged by public opinion. But again, it’s a chosen perspective: the film opts for a humanized view rather than exposing failures or controversies. It serves as a reminder that a political documentary can never be completely neutral, as it makes editorial choices that shape our perception.

Sometimes, these films delve into even more complex portraits, like Imelda, which reveals the life of former Philippine First Lady Imelda Marcos. Here, it’s not about glorification but rather an eccentric examination of her personality. The documentary doesn’t seek to rehabilitate her but to understand how she embodied both glamour and corruption. It’s an interesting angle, as it’s not merely a critical or flattering portrait; it’s an attempt to explore the paradoxes of a controversial figure.

This same approach can be seen in documentaries like Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, which explores the life and activism of Chinese dissident artist Ai Weiwei. Here, politics intertwines with art, and the documentary plays on this boundary. It doesn’t aim to make us love or hate Ai Weiwei but to help us understand his fight against the Chinese regime. It’s a critical look, but without necessarily glorifying him. Again, this is a proposed perspective, and while it may seem objective, it can’t be entirely so. Every shot, every testimony is selected to support a message or a narrative.

And the idea that power is as much about perception as it is about politics can also be found in unexpected documentaries like The Rumble in the Jungle. At first glance, you might think it’s just a documentary about the legendary boxing match between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman. But in reality, it’s much more than that. The fight was organized by Mobutu, the president of Congo, as an attempt to assert his power on the international stage. Here, the documentary doesn’t just talk about sports; it reveals the political games behind the scenes. It’s fascinating to see how a sporting event can become a tool for political propaganda, reminding us that even in a field as distant as boxing, politics is never far away.

Moreover, this notion of using a film to shape a political figure is echoed in documentaries like Whitlam: The Power and the Passion from Australia. This film about former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam illustrates how history can be revisited through the lens of documentary filmmaking. Whitlam is portrayed as a visionary reformer, but the film doesn’t shy away from highlighting his failures, too. It’s this balance of critique and admiration that lends the documentary its strength and makes it so compelling.

Ultimately, whether it’s an American president, an African leader, or a Chinese dissident, political documentaries do more than recount facts. They sculpt an image, create a narrative, and influence our perceptions of these figures. They can rehabilitate or criticize, but they always do so with a precise narrative, never by chance. The real question is how much these narratives shape reality. Are we looking at a faithful portrait, or just an embellished or dramatized version of a story that, no matter what, remains political?

Conclusion

And there we have it! We’ve reached the end of this episode, where we’ve unpacked the world of true crime series, celebrity biopics, and political documentaries. What we take away is that, regardless of the genre, these narratives all share a common thread: they intentionally blur the lines between reality and fiction. Whether to fascinate or critique, there’s always an element of dramatization, and that’s exactly what makes these works so captivating. After all, it’s in that space where we get lost in the story, caught between what we want to believe and what’s being shown to us.

Now, the million-dollar question: should a good biopic or documentary stick strictly to reality? Or is that little touch of fiction, that romantic flair, necessary to truly captivate the audience? What do you think? Personally, I believe a bit of drama always helps, but I’m curious to hear your thoughts.

If this episode has intrigued you as much as your favorite show, don’t forget to subscribe, leave a little comment, and, most importantly, share it with your friends! We’ll be back soon for another dive into the fascinating world of pop culture, always with a great cappuccino in hand. Until next time, stay curious!