Our interest in true crime naturally led us to "The Serpent," a little-known true crime story about a serial killer in Southeast Asia in the 1970s who murdered men and women along what some referred to as "The Hippie Trail." Unfortunately, the show's potential is frequently undermined by perplexing structural decisions and a lack of comprehension of its subject. The creators of this eight-part miniseries about a serial killer never quite figured out how to tell the story, which is exacerbated by frequent chronological crosscutting, which only muddles the piece's tone and tempo, leaving the entire production at a frustrating distance.
Despite some stunning locations and compelling individual sections, it never comes together, leaving us with the impression that we know as much about the subject as we did when it began.
Carl Sobhraj was a true sociopath, but he was a special kind of sociopath in that he killed him not for the sake of killing, but to maintain his way of life while obliterating people he considered beneath him. Sobhraj gained the trust of people the world was unlikely to miss—travelers around Southeast Asia who could vanish without a trace—with the help of his girlfriend Marie-Andrée Leclerc (Jenna Coleman) and his ally Ajay Chowdhury (Amesh Edireweera).
He would deceive them into thinking he was an ally before stealing their property and identities and using their passports to travel to their nearest location. Sobhraj was found guilty of murdering a dozen people. There were most likely more.
Dutchman Herman Knippenberg (Billy Howle) is the cat who shows Sobhraj as the mouse and is represented as the motive force to captain this serial assassin (with the help of his wife Angela, played by Ellie Bamber, and a man named Paul Siemons, played by Tim McInnerny). Knippenberg was a Netherlands diplomat who investigated the loss of Henk Bintanja and Cornelia Hemker, two of his countrymen. The early episodes of "The Serpent" set the tone: a calculated sociopath and a seeker of justice who has to climb mountains of bureaucracy in order to stop him. Rahim's the cold murderer and Howle's the protector of passion.
This is part of the furious structure, not only springing with alarming inconsistency from Knippenberg to Sobhraj, but also springing back and forth in time so that any given episode can hardly find dramatic or thematic foundations. Just as the episode's managers appear to be boosting momentum, the plot rebounds on time to offer further backgrounds or to recreate one of its victims' last days. Throughout the 3rd episode, I did research to find out more about the killing spree of Sobhraj, and it is never a good sign that we have to read in order to understand what a show is just not practical.
TV authors believe that the modern tendency towards chronological playfulness improves a project like the serpent, but there are nothing else than a lack of narrative cohesion in this project. Yes, we are all tired of simple chronological recitals of historical events, but there is a middle terrain between these and the type of "the serpent" mix that often feels like trying to make something more interesting with editing than with our page.
The Serpent" cannot decide whether Sobhraj was more of a master or an opportunityist. This means, instead of capturing the charisma which this man must have had to travel through his life, Rahim is too frequently playing a "gloating creepy." Several of Sobhraj's past in France are filled very late in the season to explain more about how the show starts and he ended up where he was, but for most of the series he is too much of a chipboard. And it is especially frustrating that Rahim is finally permitted in the final couple of episodes to portray another type of threat when it really helped the first six hours.
Many casts feel poorly directed, including Howle's habit of overcoming Coleman's uncomfortable choices and the cross-cutting that does not allow her to create a character. The picturesque scenery and admission of fantastic costume design is much more attractive. It is undeniably a nice show to see, which could be sufficient for people who watch Netflix casually while playing with their telephones.
At the start of "The Serpent," the questions remain after eight episodes, which would be fine if the insight of the show was replaced by tension and even amusing performances, but that is not the case in this case. The man who took what he wanted from the people he saw as disposable was Charles Sobhraj. He was a monster. That can be gleaned from any news of his life or from this review. You don't need a series of eight hours.