American Vandal embraces a season-long penis joke. Yes, really.
There is no doubt that Netflix has changed the way television is viewed. Very few avid watchers of the small screen are willing to wait a week for the next episode of a series.
In fact, there is a significant subsection of consumers who will wait until an entire series has ended before beginning a popular show like Game of Thrones. It’s a sign of the times, it seems.
Attention spans may shorten, but only in the case of delayed gratification. So long as there’s one more episode, viewers are only happy to binge. Netflix has capitalized on the phenomena it created by tailoring its original content to fit this new trend.
This approach isn’t always conducive to the best story—shows like The Defenders suffer from the binge-watching format because the writers tend to draw out characterization and plot, stretching a thin premise across episodes, creating an unsatisfactory feeling, like filling up on popcorn.
Other shows, however, thrive on this type of narrative. In particular, the true crime documentary series, like Making a Murderer or The Keepers, are enthralling as much for their format as their content. Netflix is aware of this. Like any good corporation, it creates more of what works and discards what doesn’t.
It appears, though, that Netflix might have a sense of humor about its own cynical programming decisions. At least, if the new series American Vandal is to be understood.
American Vandal is a mockumentary told in the style of Making a Murderer or Serial. The crime here isn’t an unconscionable rape/murder, however. Instead, the story focuses on twenty-seven penises crudely spray-painted on faculty cars in the parking lot of a California high school.
It’s an eight episode dick joke that strangely never loses its luster. At the center of the controversy is Dylan Maxwell, town idiot. Every high school has someone like Dylan (I was lucky enough to have four Dylan Maxwell’s in one class during my first year teaching.)
He has a laundry list of offenses, ranging from simply annoying (making whale noises in class) to the profane (drawing phallic symbols every day in Spanish) to the abusive (showing unsuspecting victims his scrotum). In a word, Dylan is awful.
He is absolutely the most likely candidate for the vandalism, but filmmaker Peter Maldonado isn’t quite so sure. He doesn’t like Dylan, but he also sees holes in the story that no one else does. He embarks on a quest to clear Dylan’s name, and hopefully, bring the real vandals to justice.
There is little doubt that Dylan Maxwell is modelled after the notorious Steven Avery. Both are accused of crimes they vehemently deny. Both accusations are based on evidence that seems damning, but with enough questions to cast doubt. Both are excruciatingly dim.
What makes American Vandal work is the format that Netflix has perfected. That an engaging story can be told around such a silly premise is a testament to the genre itself. The interviews, with the slightly askew answers based in exaggeration and misinterpretation, as well as the shocking end of episode revelations create a genuinely engaging and entertaining binge-watching experience.
The show is well performed—the actors know their characters and the documentary seems real enough. It has the typical high school drama tropes—large drunken parties, immature students doing very adult things, long scenes that happen between classes. But due to the documentary format, at least some of these are forgivable.
In general, American Vandal does a decent job of portraying the American High School experience. For instance, teachers are present and shown doing things that teachers do. It’s certainly more realistic (sort of) than 13 Reasons Why.
At the heart of the show, American Vandal asks the questions about the importance of truth. Where is the line while searching for facts? The filmmakers in the show make many questionable journalistic choices trying to uncover what happened in the parking lot that day.
They film people without their knowledge, expose embarrassing personal details of people only tangentially related to the case, and make unfounded accusations based on flimsy evidence. The themes are as much a criticism of this type of show as they are a celebration of them.
Overall, American Vandal is a fun send up of a potentially dangerous medium.