We’re always being told about the Netflix algorithm; the mountain of user data analysed to determine what sort of show should or shouldn’t run on the service. This sixth-sense ability to tell us what we want to watch based on things we’ve already watched is what has given Netflix the jump on its traditional competitors. And yet the failure of Mindhunter might be a sign that the algorithm is borked.
This week, news emerged that, while not officially cancelled, Mindhunter has been put on the sort of indefinite hiatus that has allowed its cast to seek work elsewhere. In all likelihood, though, it won’t be back. David Fincher is buried in other commitments, and the show never had enough of a red-hot following to spark widespread viewer outrage.
What’s so bizarre about the fizzling out of Mindhunter, though, is that the show should have been absolutely massive. The algorithmic tickboxes it checked off are almost unprecedented. It was a flashy prestige drama of the kind that boosts Netflix’s critical cachet. It was guided by the hand of David Fincher, who had helped House of Cards to become Netflix’s first big breakout hit. It focused heavily on true crime, when Netflix has been almost single-handed responsible for a resurgence in the genre. And it was dripping with late-20th century nostalgia, which should have put it up there with Stranger Things.
And yet something was missing. Mindhunter was perennially overlooked by the major awards – it only ever gained one Emmy nomination, and that was for outstanding guest actor – and never quite felt it was hitting all the heights that it should have been. The first season was full of intermittent highlights, like the thrill of seeing real-life serial killers being depicted in a drama, but the second was released to almost no fanfare whatsoever. Perhaps this is because it lost sight of its source material. Perhaps because there wasn’t enough of a gripping throughline threading all the interviews together. Perhaps because, in all honestly, barely anything happened. Mindhunter 2 had all the signs of a series lost in an identity crisis, and perhaps that’s what brought the axe down.
But at the same time, Netflix never afforded it the same publicity as some of its other offerings. Stranger Things, for instance, was kept afloat by an armada of product placement tie-ins. Russian Doll was treated like a masterpiece before anyone had even seen a frame of it. Even the final dog turd season of House of Cards was granted a smorgasbord of announcements and teaser trailers. But Mindhunter felt like it was just slung out on to Netflix as an afterthought. The most publicity the show ever got, damningly, was when a comedian sang a new theme for it on Twitter.
Cancelling a series after two seasons is something that Netflix does with ease. Given the reasons why – it claims that a new season of an old show is less likely to draw new subscribers than a new series of a new show – the decision to fridge Mindhunter seems like a sensible one. It’s hard to imagine that an army of potential subscribers are holding off until they’re given a third clutch of cerebral, esoteric, low-key, semi-fictionalised accounts of serial killers from the 1970s and 1980s. So from a business perspective, the sad news is that this makes sense.
But still, I’ll miss Mindhunter; not least the early promise of season one. When it fired on every cylinder, there were true moments of electricity to be found. Cameron Britton’s portrayal of Ed Kemper, in particular, was a standout. A monstrous man who presented himself with all the mundanity of a primary school deputy head, there was something eternally chilling about his presence. And the effect he had on Jonathan Groff’s lead investigator was fascinating. That’s what Mindhunter should have focused on, the corroding effects of evil on a fundamentally good man.
That doesn’t matter any more, though. Mindhunter is dead and largely unmourned. It was fine while it lasted.
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