I once was lost, but now I'm found.
This is a non-spoiler review for all six episodes of Netflix's Alias Grace - adapted from Margaret Atwood's novel of the same name, premiering Friday, November 3rd.
Written with melancholy flair by Sarah Polley (Go, Dawn of the Dead) and directed with a tragic ghost story panache by Mary Harron (American Psycho), Alias Grace takes us into the enchanting, incarcerated mind of a 19th century celebrity "murderess" to experience her many indignities, sufferings, and endured cruelties in a deeply rich and layered murder mystery based on true events.
Margaret Atwood, of The Handmaid's Tale's fame, crafted a story -- a devilish narrative designed to unravel and mesmerize -- around the real-life case of Grace Marks. The teenage Irish immigrant maid was convicted in 1843, in Canada, of killing her employer (while suspected of also having a hand in the death of a fellow housekeeper during the same manic spree). Alias Grace is, all at once, a coming of age story, an immigrant tale, a "whodunnit?," and a chilling tragedy. It doesn't involve ghosts, but it is haunted in its own way. There's definitely a "presence" involved, a phantom feeling that permeates through the story - which is mostly, at its core, a collection of recollections.
Working in this series' ultimate favor are both the standout performance by Sarah Gadon (11.22.63) as Grace, as she gets to play this curious character through more than four decades of her life, and the addictive structure of the piece - in which we watch events unfold in the present, through flashbacks, in dreams, and also via the writing of future letters. Alias Grace utilizes many levels to keep us at an intriguing arm's length as we're drawn into Grace's intimate conversations with an upstart mental health physician, Dr. Jordan, (The Kingsman movies' Edward Holcroft), 15 years into her life sentence, while also knowing that, at some points, she's unreliable narrator.
Given the "murder mystery" aspects of Alias Grace, namely Dr. Jordan's quest to uncover the truth about what happened to landowner Thomas Kinnear (Paul Gross) and his housekeeper Nancy Montgomery (Anna Paquin), there's a ripe twist in the final episodes that's designed to chill and thrill - and it's one that you can easily spot coming by the second episode. Regardless though, because of the story structure and the detailed dive into Grace's lamentable life, it's still an effective moment, not just for the truths it reveals, but also because of the way it works to shape the end of the series and the fates of the main characters. Sufficed to say, the repercussions are fierce and final, and while some aspects of the story might feel a bit too neatly tied up, other elements soak and stew in "turn of the screw" style degradation.
Holcroft's Dr. Jordan may be the biggest part of the story concocted for the sake of Atwood's novel (there are other fictional characters as well) but he, like us, are meant to bear witness to Grace's tortures as a woman, an immigrant, and a servant. Thematically, Alias Grace lines up impeccably with other Atwood stories that investigate and explore civilization, entrapment, female "otherness" as defined by a man, death, and suffering. Instead of creating a dystopian world though, like with The Handmaid's Tale, all Atwood had to do here is travel a bit backward in time to a world where women had little-to-no choices.
With every aspect of Grace's life dictated by someone else - be it her violent father, her lecherous employers, or the court system - the series deftly caresses the notion of her telling her own story to someone who actively wants to hear every word. For the first time, Grace is allowed to speak freely and whether she takes the opportunity to be truthful or not is almost beside the point. It's her first free moment after a lifetime of servitude and the show is right to relish it.
In the role of Grace's few, scarce friends growing up, Rebecca Liddiard shines as the soaring and spirited Mary, a fellow maid whose relationship with Grace helps shape almost everything to come, while Zachary Levi's traveling peddler, Jeremiah, also winds up circling back into the story in a very satisfying way. Holcroft, as Dr. Jordan, may tend to mumble his way through an American accent, but the fact that he almost underplays his part, in a repressed man-of-the-era way, helps accentuate Grace's uniqueness and allows for a dynamic to play out in which Jordan becomes more and more unhealthily obsessed with her.
Peppered with quotes from Dickinson, Tennyson, Longfellow, and more, Mary Harron and Sarah Polley create a living poem - a complex shadow-of-a-shadow account of a life lived under scrutiny and savagery. Called an "inhuman demon," "soft in the head," "cunning and devious," "too ignorant for her own good," Grace, at times, represents an entire gender, generation, and social stratum who've had their lives dictated to them.
The weakest parts of Alias Grace are when the story bends to certain conventions of episodic drama, but the strongest ingredients delightfully dominate the overall flavor. Netflix may be in the business of over-saturating the market, but their fall season run of original series, from this to American Vandal to Stranger Things: Season 2 to Mindhunter, have created a great must-see streak. If you watched Mindhunter and you dug the "interview with a murderer" aspect of the story, and are looking for another real-life case (though certainly a loose adaptation), Alias Grace should be your next binge.
The Verdict
Alias Grace is a gripping, haunting series that, while not dealing with ghosts or the paranormal, definitely contains a looming specter. In this case, the mystery of missing time during a series of murders that sent a 16-year-old maid to prison and solidified her status as a diabolical headline-grabbing killer. Sarah Gadon is exceptional as the resigned, recondite Grace - a woman who may be just as much a mystery to herself as she is to others.
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