Review: A Murder At The End Of The World, "Chapter 1: Homme Fatale" and "Chapter 2: The Silver Doe" | Season 1, Episodes 1 and 2
We meet our heroine, she travels to the end of the world, and then...well, you know
Welcome to Episodic Medium’s coverage of the FX (on Hulu) original series A Murder at the End of the World. This first review is free for all, but future reviews will be exclusively available to paid subscribers. To find out more about what your $5 a month gets you, check out our About Page.
Note: This review of the first two episodes is broken up by installments—meaning, if you only watched the first episode, you’re safe to read the writeup on episode one without fear of spoilers from the second.
What is it about the world’s elite that makes them think they’re so untouchable? It’s a question that answers itself, of course—the overweening confidence that got most of them to that position in the first place is probably one hell of a drug—but it nonetheless bears asking, because it will likely play a key role in A Murder At The End Of The World. After all, who else would have the temerity to kill someone in one of the most isolated places imaginable, where the list of suspects is barely more than a dozen, their every move under (presumably) heavy digital surveillance?
Unless, of course, that’s the whole point.
And that’s the wicked fun of this new FX limited series from longtime creative partners Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij. At the end of the first hour, we’ve gotten essentially nothing but table-setting for the story to come, with little in the way of character motivations outside of our protagonist, Darby Hart (Emma Corin, nicely underplaying things). But what table setting it is: A beautiful location, some of the (ostensibly) most brilliant and influential people in the world, gathered together by a tech billionaire to save the world from itself, and then we watch one of them get murdered. It may not be tremendously original as stories go, but damned if it isn’t enjoyable to watch.
That sense of audience familiarity with this kind of setup is actually one of the most surprising things about the show, given its creative pedigree. Marling and Batmanglij have always seemed far more interested in oddball, gonzo premises for their stories of human longing and the need for interpersonal connection…and how hard that latter one can be to achieve. The films they’ve made together—Sound Of My Voice and The East—both drop characters into over-the-top scenarios, only to end up using those premises for all-too-human tales of emotional upheaval. And those who have seen their previous TV series, The OA, know that they are nothing if not imbued with a penchant for the outlandish. (Seriously, it remains one of the most delightfully daffy shows in recent memory, and it only got weirder as it went along. I wrote a second-season review for The A.V. Club, if you’re curious.)
But with this newest effort, they’ve reined in the strangeness, instead delving into the familiar, Agatha Christie-like genre elements of their tale, albeit updated for the internet age. “Homme Fatale” unfolds with admirable restraint, though I’m admittedly grading on a bit of a curve, given the pair’s previous output. (And to be fair, there’s certainly not much restrained about an AR-enhanced AI assistant showing up to inform you one of the world’s most famous men wants you, especially when played with such dry stoicism by Edoardo Ballerini.) After an opening book-reading event where Darby recounts the climactic events of her and her lover Bill’s years-prior hunt for a serial killer, she receives an invite from the “King Of Tech,” Andy Ronson (Clive Owen), to participate in his weeklong retreat. A private jet conveys her and several other guests to his brand-new, middle-of-nowhere Icelandic hotel (they’re the first-ever guests), where she meets the other eight attendees and Ronson explains his goal: Nothing less than saving humanity from the climate crisis of its own making.
Despite the seeming theme of this retreat, the penny drops when the guest opposite Darby takes their seat. It’s Bill (Harris Dickinson), the great love, the one that got away. Yet I was still surprised when Bill turned out to be the victim. Sure, it’s the classic “back in the protagonist’s life just in time to wind up dead” move. (And his whole “there’s something I need to tell you” should’ve been a dead giveaway, in hindsight—never say that, person in the beginning of a murder mystery!) But Marling (who also directed) and Batmanglij write their interactions in a way that felt loaded with future potential, as though the former couple might be the passionate team-up who get busy (and get busy) solving whatever murder was going to happen. Especially given how little we know of some of the other guests, I thought they would pull the ol’ “kill a name actor in a seemingly slight role” move, like Raúl Esparza’s obnoxious venture capitalist, David, or possibly Joan Chen’s Lu Mei. Of course, if we want Darby to throw her heart and soul into this mystery, it had to be poor, doomed Bill. R.I.P., Fangs. (Notice my restraint in not titling this review, “Fangs For The Memories.”)
Can we take a moment and appreciate how gorgeous this show is? Marling directed this one (she and Batmanglij alternate directing duties), and she’s come quite a ways. The icy beauty of the location, those long, languid shots of the cars en route to the Belling, the close-ups of Corrin’s heart-on-sleeve expressions? It feels, at times, like a cross between an episode of Succession and Fincher’s The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. If you’re going to shamelessly crib, crib from the best.
With the first installment of something like this, the question is always going to be how effectively they managed to set up the world, introduce the characters, and lay the foundation for everything to come. A lot of that we won’t know until later, when we’ll be able to determine whether what unfolds was telegraphed successfully. But for now, I’ll note that there’s still a bit too much fogginess around the other players in this little drama. Lu Mei and Martin were interacting with her on the plane, so we have at least a little understanding of them (even if Lu Mei is clearly keeping her cards close to the vest, regardless of what she told Darby about being there to do business). And David is all too clearly the smirking asshole type you might expect from Esparza, an old pro at those kinds of obnoxious characters.
But ask me to tell you much of anything about Pegah Ferydoni’s encryption expert, Ziba, or Alice Braga’s wannabe-moon-colonizing ex-doctor, Sian, besides the former’s skepticism (and Fangs fandom) and the latter’s intensity, and I’m going to come up short. (Don’t get me started on the blank slates that are Oliver and Rohan.) The show is going to have to start peeling back the layers of these people fairly soon, I suspect, for us to have any investment in them being around. For now, I’m giving Marling and Batmanglij the benefit of the doubt. They know how to build characters effectively in a short time span (see the aforementioned OA), so I’ll trust their judgment with the minimalism of their ensemble’s introduction.
Now Ronson, on the other hand, does almost as much talking as Darby, and in only the span of a pre-dinner spiel. Owen inhabits the role with a genial magnetism, suggesting the layers inside the seemingly affable demeanor. He knows the audience doesn’t need any hint of sinister intent to know that someone like him couldn’t have gotten to where they are without some evil deeds and moral flexibility. If Marling’s ex-coder Lee is the most enigmatic by default, speaking little and offering knowing glances, Ronson is the most put-together and slick, a pro at telling people what they want to hear.
We don’t yet know what killed Bill. There’s no obvious wound, but blood is scattered across his room when Darby goes outside to try and see what the noise is all about. But this show is so clearly building a classical murder-mystery, with some contemporary elements, and in such a delightful manner, that I’m in no hurry to learn. Let’s see what Darby is capable of.
Stray observations
Welcome, all, to the reviews of A Murder At The End Of The World. I’m looking forward to this one; with all the is-this-detail-important clue dropping, strange asides, and who’s-hiding-what of the plot, I suspect this will be my toughest beat for catching everything going on since Mr. Robot. I normally watch episodes twice for reviews, but this may be the rare three-timer assignment. (Plus, given how many little mystery-show tidbits crop up, the stray observations will be lengthy.) More importantly, I’m excited to discuss it with all of you in the comments; this is the kind of show tailor-made to see what others catch that I missed.
I very much enjoyed the book reading scene, but you cannot tell me a speaker would announce the “big secret” of cold-case murder victims is that “the majority are women” and expect a room full of true-crime enthusiasts to act like that is some surprising reveal. Come on, now.
Speaking of Lee, two things: She has an awfully unusual delivery of some sort of gas tank to her room, and her toast—“To finding a way out. Together.”—could not be more portentous.
Can we have a moratorium on “This Is The End” kicking off a new show? It’s way too on the nose.
Darby looking at her minibar: “Wait, so all of this is free?” Uh, yeah, Darby—he paid for you to fly beyond-first-class to Iceland and stay for a week in a luxury hotel completely free. I think the salted peanuts will be gratis.
Their rings, in addition to unlocking doors, also tell Ray their heart rate, temperature, and more. There’s no way that’s not coming into play.
When Bill disappears in her dream, the note on the mirror reads, “I think this is both too much and not enough. I left you the car.” Thoughtful of him!
If they’re the first guests, how does hotel manager Marius know Lu Mei so well?
That little song Bill and Darby love so much? Annie Lennox, “No More ‘I Love Yous.’”
I love the little beat where Ronson clarifies that he prefers to call Ray, his Artificial Intelligence creation, “Alternative Intelligence.” It’s such a perfect Silicon Valley tech-bro douchebag correction. Same with David’s reference to “builders and non-builders.” Those guys really are the worst.
I’m thinking of ending each stray observations with my current favorite suspect. Right now my guess is that old chestnut, matrimonial jealousy. Bill and Lee were having an affair (or were up to some other anti-Andy funny business), so Ronson had him killed. Likely by Marius, who Darby awkwardly bumps into on her way to Bill’s room that night. Reinforcing my theory is that title, “Homme Fatale”: a man who leads others into disaster or tragedy. But let the guessing commence!
Episode 2: “Chapter 2: The Silver Doe”
People sure are quick to dismiss a grieving woman, aren’t they? Not five seconds after Darby pops up to inform everyone she was with Bill when he died, then the whole room (most of it, anyway) is murmuring reassuring platitudes about how she’s in shock, not thinking straight, just needs time, etc. etc.—led, of course, by Andy Ronson and his patronizing, “I had parents who were addicts, so my experience trumps your own” dismissal. The common-sense assumptions of a titan of industry are going to run roughshod over a simple true-crime writer’s impassioned, “But I was actually fucking there, you dimwits.” Patriarchy really is the smog we all breathe, isn’t it.
Moments like that are starting to accumulate as A Murder At The End Of The World begins its mystery. And not just in the present; not for nothing does the camera linger accusingly on row after row of “Jane Doe” victims’ cardboard boxes holding what little possessions were found with them, stockpiled away and forgotten, just numbers on a spreadsheet. They’re not even unsolved investigations—they were never investigated to begin with. And the script for “The Silver Doe” makes sure to let us know, more than once, that Darby isn’t someone who can let that kind of injustice stand. “It’s just how I think.” Thank goodness someone in Iceland does.
As it turns out, Darby’s early time with Bill isn’t just a story to illuminate her personality, and how she got to where she is today. It’s going to serve as a template for her powers of deduction and ability to crack the mystery of what went down at Hotel Belling the night Bill died. When she is flailing for ideas about how to hack the security cameras built into the doors of their rooms, she…lights up a joint and lets her mind wander. Which, it seems, was kind of her go-to move, as Bill learned back when they were texting, calling, and video chatting with each other constantly. The flashbacks, which initially seem to be there solely to tell the B-story of The Tale Of Darby And Bill, are now becoming the path by which Darby figures out her future moves.
The sequence of her researching and assembling her hardware to hack the cameras isn’t bad, per se, but compared to something like Mr. Robot, it certainly feels a bit like playing “Hot Cross Buns” when they should be delivering a sonata. (I mean, she literally begins by typing “Lee Anderson doorbell cam hack” into the website and hoping it’ll just spit back, “A Quick How-to Guide for the Currently Trapped in a Secretive Billionaire’s Hotel.”) There’s a sense of hand-holding that is unnecessary—just trust the audience. We’re ready to give the benefit of the doubt to Darby without her needing to repeat out loud—to herself, no less—the fact that she needs the SSID to pull this off.
Much better is the way the cross-cutting between flashbacks and the present are informing each other in ways that feel rich with meaning, and not too clunky in their links. Bill hacking the train-track lights to say “Happy Birthday Darby” in Morse code suggests her subsequent course of action in the present without unduly lingering on the connection. And the way she disobeys her father by stealing the Jane Doe’s earrings in order to begin working on the case telegraphs her later disregard for Ronson’s orders about leaving the body (and room) alone. This is not someone who will meekly accept marching orders, not when there’s an injustice staring her in the face.
And honestly, all the stuff in Bill’s room is pretty compelling. Using Ray to build her case that Bill didn’t kill himself is simple but effective, and the dusting-for-prints trick on the syringe is the kind of foul-play confirmation we need in the early going, as her operation gets going. Even better was the stuff with Lee. I don’t know if Lee actually thinks she successfully convinced Darby that she was just looking for evidence of a drug habit (because you really, really didn’t, Lee) when she was rifling through all of Bill’s stuff, but the interesting part is how that might not matter—for the time being, anyway. Lee can be up to something mysterious with Bill’s things and still want Darby to get to the bottom of his death.
Even with the occasionally dubious nature of the hacking depictions, it all hangs together nicely as a story, with solid forward momentum and the occasional scene of well-earned tension (Darby hiding in the bathroom when Lee enters, for example). In fact, the scene that contained the hoariest lines was Martin’s TED Talk-esque presentation on AI and art. I get that this was almost certainly written long before the widespread public awareness of ChatGPT, but in the wake of just about anyone being able to log in and have the program spit out, say, a “new” Shakespeare play, having Earth’s most powerful movers and shakers act skeptical about Ray’s ability to write a Harry Potter novel (in the style of Hemingway, natch) comes across awfully “how do you do, fellow teens.”
Still, it’s not a big deal, because the whole thing is largely backdrop for Darby and Lee’s conversation. (And Ronson’s pointed, patronizing stare at their whispers.) Everyone here is now grist for the Darby-investigation mill, and watching her work her way through the initial stage of the process remains damn good fun. (As does seeing her and Bill finally meet in real life for the first time in flashback.) Quibbles aside, I’m firmly on board. Let’s start shaking down some suspects.
Stray observations
I confess, I couldn’t quite suss out what the syringe/injector device was until Darby picked it up. Am I alone in feeling dumb about that?
Eva’s abandonment of Darby within minutes of escorting her back to her room following Bill’s death felt weirdly jarring, didn’t it? Who doesn’t ask a person who just watched someone die if they’d like you to stick around for support?
Here’s a bit of petty criticism: Having now seen the intense and revealing nature of Darby and Bill’s digital courtship, there is no way in hell that she wouldn’t have already told him about her worship of Lee Anderson prior to them executing the garage door hack in episode one.
That was Tricky’s “Hell Is Round The Corner” playing during Darby’s slow-motion walk down her school’s hallway to examine the state of teenage earring fashion, if you’re curious. Foreshadowing!
I know it was just “sometime after midnight” when Bill died, but Sian seemed awfully awake and ready to assist when Darby arrived, didn’t she?
Rohan sure pivoted quickly from audible sobs upon learning of Bill’s death to saying (with way too much prurient interest), “Can we see him?” Plus, we still know nothing about Rohan, other than it looked like he drove his own truck to the hotel.
“It’s not like I hear the dead literally…it’s like they compel me to get them what they want.” Has Darby considered giving Tru Calling a watch?
I enjoyed the jump-scare moment of the masked visitor suddenly staring into the camera footage of outside Bill’s room before he died.
SUSPECT CORNER: My money’s still on Andy Ronson killing Bill for whatever he was doing with Lee, be it an affair or corporate skullduggery. (Blowing the whistle on Ronson somehow?) And Marius being involved still feels right, given he basically threw Darby out of Bill’s room when she was still frozen with trauma. Anyone else have a better suspect?
I'm now realizing I forgot to mention a few of my favorite lines. Darby's "It's my 57th crime scene" might be the most drolly delivered, though.
For me, the "Ray co-wrote my movie and is an artistic genius" scene seemed to be a setup for the "Ray doesn't understand poetry" line. Which I'm not mad at, Martin gassing up Ray only for the reveal that "hit the lights" was too complex artistically got a big laugh out of me.
(It also plays into Andy's seeming contempt of the arts; I couldn't help but notice everyone he introduced, and presumably invited, were all business people. I kept thinking through that scene that these people seem very different from Darby, and then ronson pulled out the "I have no idea why you're here", which barely seemed like a joke.)
As far as suspects, I think that, if Andy didn't do it himself, he certainly aided and abetted, along with Marius. He was too quick to dismiss the possibility of a murder, and that may be because he was involved, or just his contempt for artists, but it's definitely important.