Studies in Australasian Cinema

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Innovation in true crime: generic transformation

in documentary series

Sean Maher & Susan Cake

To cite this article: Sean Maher & Susan Cake (2023) Innovation in true crime: generic
transformation in documentary series, Studies in Australasian Cinema, 17:1-2, 95-109, DOI:
10.1080/17503175.2023.2224617

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/17503175.2023.2224617

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STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA
2023, VOL. 17, NOS. 1–2, 95–109
https://doi.org/10.1080/17503175.2023.2224617

Innovation in true crime: generic transformation in

documentary series
Sean Mahera and Susan Cakeb
a
Film, Screen & Animation, School of Creative Practice, Faculty of Creative Industries, Education & Social
Justice, Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane, Australia; bFilm, Screen & Animation, Queensland
University of Technology, Brisbane, Australia

ABSTRACT ARTICLE HISTORY

This discussion explores innovation in true crime programming Received 27 March 2023
on streaming platforms and on-demand catch up broadcast Accepted 6 June 2023
television services. Altered consumption habits from long form
KEYWORDS
programming and binge viewing on streaming services has True crime; long-form
prompted innovations in factual content through documentary; documentary
docuseries. Commencing with Reality Television police series; streaming disruption;
procedurals such as the long running US series Cops ([1989– true crime dramatisation
2023]. Cops. TV Series. Fox. 1989–2013, 2023. Paramount Network
2013–2020. Fox Nation 2021–2023), the true crime genre has
expanded into long-form docuseries. This expansion coincides
with streaming platforms that service contemporary consumption
habits based on unscheduled, on-demand spectatorship
practices. Underbelly ([2008–2022]. Underbelly. TV Series.
Screentime; Nine Network) is an Australian true crime franchise
and early innovator of true crime serialisation. Spanning both
broadcast and streaming eras, Underbelly serves as a counterpoint
in this discussion of innovations in long-form documentary
serialisation in the Netflix programs, Making a Murderer ([2015–
2018]. Making a Murderer. TV Series. Synthesis Films; Netflix) and
The Staircase ([2004–2018]. The Staircase. TV Series. Canal+,
Episodes 1–10. Netflix, Episodes 11–13). Discussion of each series
reveals how narrative innovation functions as generic
transformation in response to new television on-demand
platforms and delivery modes.

Introduction
This discussion explores narrative innovation through true crime-based programming in
the context of streaming platforms in contrast to on-demand, catch up broadcast televi-
sion services. The article focuses on the legacy of long-form serialisation in reshaping epi-
sodic television drama since the late 1990s. More recently, long-form serialisation has

CONTACT Sean Maher s.maher@qut.edu.au Film, Screen & Animation, School of Creative Practice, Faculty of
Creative Industries, Education & Social Justice, Queensland University of Technology, Z9-504, Kelvin Grove, Brisbane 4059,
Australia
© 2023 The Author(s). Published by Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives License
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/), which permits non-commercial re-use, distribution, and reproduction in any
medium, provided the original work is properly cited, and is not altered, transformed, or built upon in any way. The terms on which
this article has been published allow the posting of the Accepted Manuscript in a repository by the author(s) or with their consent.
96 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

been applied to factual and documentary content, developed in response to altered con-
sumption habits, such as binge viewing promoted by streaming and on-demand televi-
sion services.
True crime programming spans a wide spectrum of television content occurring on
broadcast and cable networks and has had rapid take up on streaming services from
Netflix to Amazon Prime Video. The true crime genre encompasses Reality TV
formats, traditional documentary, through to tabloid journalism-based special event tel-
evision and dramatised ‘inspired by true events’ series.
The Netflix true crime series Making a Murderer (2015–2018) and The Staircase
(2004–2018) helped to redefine the genre by generating international appeal when
they were promoted as marquee titles on the Netflix streaming platform. Making a
Murderer is original content that was designed and produced specifically for
Netflix. The Staircase was a documentary feature, made by the French broadcaster
and cable provider Canal+ in 2004. It was then adapted into various news specials
for US audiences before it was adapted into a 13-episode Netflix true crime series
in 2018.
Occupying the dramatised end of the true crime spectrum is Channel Nine’s Under-
belly (2008–2022), Australia’s longest running true crime franchise series. Underbelly is a
multi-season anthology series that eschews any documentary treatment of its true crime
events in favour of wholesale dramatisation. The context and longevity of the Underbelly
franchise is particularly noteworthy given it commenced in 2008 just one year after
Netflix launched its streaming service and seven years before Netflix was available in
Australia.
Each of the above true crime-based series occupies different points in the spectrum
spanning the true crime genre and reflects particular logics of their respective plat-
forms in regard to narrative innovation. Together these programs provide insights
into how true crime-based programming negotiates a factual quotient in their dramatic
storytelling and evidence alternative approaches to adapting true crime events. True
crime programming that originated on free-to-air broadcast channels in Australia con-
tinues to draw from investigative journalism or in the case of Underbelly, wholly
dramatises the respective events underpinning each series. Meanwhile, international
streaming platforms have adapted true crime series from a broadcaster like Canal+
or developed original programming as serialised documentary television known as
‘docuseries’.
By examining recent programs in the true crime genre and the extent to which they
have employed narrative innovation, we can compare the different approaches
between Australian broadcast and cable channels to international streaming and cable
services. In this way, the genre of true crime offers insights into the respective logics
issuing from broadcasting versus streaming platforms as they compete for ‘eyeball atten-
tion’ in a disrupted mediascape.

True crime expansion

True crime series have been traditionally associated with tabloid television formats pre-
mised on the promotion of lurid sensationalism. They include public service styled
Reality shows like the UK’s Crimewatch that commenced in 1984, to long-running
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 97

Reality TV series. The most enduring Reality TV true crime series remains the US series,
Cops (1989–present) that continues with over 35 seasons. Other Reality style shows con-
tinue to be produced, such as the 23 season police procedural, The First 48 (2004–
present) that concentrates on homicide cases in various US cities. Reflecting innovations
derived from long-form narrative, however, true crime programming has been expanded
and continues to diversify. Key to how true crime content is transforming is through its
serialisation rather than one-off feature documentaries. This serialisation reflects stream-
ing services’ responses to binge style, on-demand spectatorship practices that continue to
redefine viewer consumption habits on web-based media platforms.
Definitions of true crime centre on the capturing and relaying of details of an actual
criminal event. In Toward a Theory of True Crime Narratives: A Textual Analysis,
Punnett (2018, 28) describes true crime as consisting of ‘nonfiction narratives of criminal
events that actually happened’. Contemporary true crime series reflect how the treatment
of true crime events covers a broad spectrum where the content is organised along more
traditional documentary and factual lines through to docudrama adaptations and fully
dramatised renderings.
The Australian true crime franchise series, Underbelly, represents the wholly drama-
tised end of the true crime spectrum recounting the events and figures from the Mel-
bourne gangland killings that plagued the city between 1995 and 2004. Created in
2008 and aired on the free-to-air network, Channel Nine, Underbelly is a true crime
series indicative of when television was dominated by broadcast networks. Since the
first season in 2008, Underbelly has enjoyed popular and critical success becoming an
anthology series with the most recent season, the aforementioned, Vanishing Act, pro-
duced in 2022.
Underbelly is premised on narrative principles, relying on tropes such as twists, red-
herrings, revelations, and resolutions that operate in traditional fictional crime and
mystery series. Each season is distinct and delivers narrative resolution. In Underbelly
seasons 1–4, each series comprised 13 episodes, while seasons 5 and 6 consisted of 8 epi-
sodes. However, the latest 2022 season, Vanishing Act, broke ranks with the multi-
episode approach by having only two episodes. As discussed later, this reverts to more
traditional broadcast network programming practices and consumption habits.
At the opposite end of the true crime spectrum are the documentary series produced
by the international streaming platform Netflix – Making a Murderer and The Staircase.
Similarly, HBO’s The Jinx (2015) is billed as a documentary mini-series and is available
on its cable service and streaming platform. Each is representative of a true crime docu-
mentary series structured according to the emerging conventions accompanying long-
form narrative television. The Netflix and HBO true crime series recount real and histori-
cal crime-based events over a multi-episode season and in the case of Making a Murderer,
two seasons.
A key formal feature uniting these US true crime series is the organisation of their nar-
ratives into a long-form, multiple-episodic structure. By configuring a documentary nar-
rative over multiple episodes, these programs have variously contributed to emerging
factual series formats that continue to re-define the true crime genre and documentary
more broadly. Making a Murderer is constructed over two seasons with each comprising
10 episodes, so 20 episodes in total. The Staircase as featured on Netflix in 2018, consists
of 13 episodes over a single season. Both series are structured using documentary modes
98 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

and factual narrative conventions such as a traditional third-person omniscient mode

that effaces the presence of the filmmakers and helps to position the audience alongside
their central subjects. Innovations occur in the way dramatic narrative devices such as
revelations and cliffhangers are used to invigorate the factual content, allowing it to
play out over multiple episodes and seasons. These (traditionally narrative) devices
provide the structural ebb and flow to sustain long-form, multi-episodic series like
Making a Murderer, The Staircase and The Jinx.

A shifting mediascape
Accounting for narrative innovations occurring in true crime series also relies on addres-
sing the impact of the upheavals occurring in the industrial context of television. That is,
both cause and effect of altered spectatorship practices as web-based streaming continues
to disrupt the paradigm of broadcast network television. The proliferation of inter-
national digital streaming platforms like Netflix, Amazon, Apple TV, Disney+, Para-
mount+, as well Australian streaming services like Binge and Stan coincides with the
rise of true crime as an emergent genre. Its growing appeal has led Stella Bruzzi to
argue it has expanded from a niche genre to ‘a veritable explosion in the number of
trial and crime documentaries, across cinema, television and other screening platforms’
(Bruzzi 2016, 249). The consumption of true crime programming on ‘other screening
platforms’ enables its popularity to be measured in more precise and quantifiable
terms and provides the rationale for its repeated commissioning.
With viewing modes on streaming services echoed by the catch-up options supplied
by free-air-television, the now familiar activity of binge watching sees audiences watch
multiple episodes and even entire seasons in single sessions. Describing this mode of
viewing as ‘appointment television’, De Fino (2014, 11) states, ‘“quality” series –
especially dramas, – typically demand a commitment to their detailed and constantly
evolving stories, from week to week, season to season’. Crucially, overarching narratives
spanning multiple episodes and seasons are more readily sustained by such viewing
habits and have made way for the production of long-form narrative programs that
characterises ‘quality television’.
Such quality programming commenced with the premium cable channel provider
HBO (Home Box Office) and its first foray into original content production in the
1990s. Commencing with the prison drama, OZ [1997–2003] it was soon joined by the
breakout hits Sex and the City [1998–2004] and The Sopranos [1999–2007]. Following
in steady progression was HBO’s, Six Feet Under [2001–2005], the anthology series,
The Wire [2002–2008] and the watershed series, Game of Thrones [2011–2019]. More
recent quality long-form crime dramas on HBO continue with the three-season anthol-
ogy series, True Detective [2014–present].
Narratives are described as long-form in these series dramas because they have
replaced brief plot scenarios resolved in single episodes. Long-form television narratives
are characterised by layered storylines spanning multi-episodes and multiple seasons.
Crafted by showrunners and writing rooms populated by teams of writers, these
shows pursue character-driven stories sustained by complex protagonists. The combi-
nation has created nuanced storytelling with multifaceted story arcs that have heralded
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 99

a new ‘golden age of television’ and elevated TV storytelling far above what was once
thought possible.
Quality television synonymous with long-form narrative programs eventually spread
beyond HBO to other premium cable operators like American Movie Channel (AMC)
and Showtime amongst others. Between these two alone, stand-out dramas were the
AMC commissioned Mad Men [2007–2015] and Breaking Bad [2008–2013] and Show-
time’s Dexter [2006–2013] and Homeland [2011–2020]. Just as long-form narrative pro-
grams on premium cable providers were setting the standard for quality television series,
new streaming services like Netflix and Amazon began turning their attention to devel-
oping their original content offerings.
When Netflix began planning the production of its original content, it turned to the
metadata harvested from its subscribers in order to assess what kind of content hosted on
its platform held the most appeal for its subscribers. The data indicated a widespread
interest in content starring the actor Kevin Spacey and revealed some unexpected
results like repeated viewings of a British TV series from the 1990s, House of Cards
(1990). Other popular content amongst its subscribers also featured a variety of political
subject matter (Franzen 2013). Conventional television industry wisdom dictated new
shows commenced with the production of a pilot episode, test-screened to an audience
and subjected to a prolonged feedback regime. For all their limitations, pilot episodes
help negotiate the costly prototype process of producing new television shows that can
result in a 98% failure rate (Nathanson 2013). Disrupting this conventional approach
to development, House of Cards [2013–2018] was the first television series to be specifi-
cally produced for Netflix. Dispensing with pilots, Netflix opted to produce an entire
season. Further disruption came in the form of allowing subscribers to access the
entire season immediately, allowing audiences to determine the pace at which they
watch the entire season. While it has become almost standard today, this radical decision
stood in stark contrast to the forced drip feed of releasing one new episode a week that
characterised the broadcast network era.
Netflix’s belief in the data generated by its subscribers and the ability of its algorithm
to translate that data into meaningful information for the purposes of producing its orig-
inal content paid off when its first original show proved to be an enduring hit with its
millions of subscribers. House of Cards went on to comprise 6 seasons and 73 episodes
over 6 years. The combination of the many changes brought to how television was pro-
duced and distributed under the new logics of a streaming service not only ushered in
binge viewing but led to the paradigm shift from the business-as-usual content pro-
duction of the broadcast era. Along with the demise of mass audiences strived for by tra-
ditional scheduling and conventions surrounding prime-time ratings, data-informed
decision-making has disrupted content commissioning practices by providing more
reliable insights into the choices and behaviours of subscribers (Datoo 2014). In 2014,
Netflix’s VP of original documentary and comedy, Lisa Nishimura, stated, ‘The
success of “House of Cards” gave the service confidence to branch into new categories
… From day one, we’ve supported nonfiction and documentaries, and we’ve been able
to see unilaterally how great storytelling resonates’ (McDonald 2014, n.p.). The combi-
nation of segmenting audiences, data-driven algorithms and the curation of content
has revealed the popularity of documentary programming and its role in a streaming
platform’s ability to keep its subscribers (Finney 2022)
100 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

The full extent to which the data-driven tracking of user behaviours informs decision
making on programming within Netflix remains within the confines of the streamer’s
‘blackbox’ of proprietary confidentiality that surrounds the commercial application of
its algorithms. But according to Sarah Arnold (2016, 53), Netflix can garner detailed
information regarding audience viewing habits:
It can assess the performance of individual assets (TV shows or films) much more closely
and with much greater accuracy. With large amounts of data on overall user engagement
with individual shows, films, or genres, it can more quickly act (to purchase or remove
content). It can, in theory, target content to users more effectively, based on the way in
which such data can be used to predict viewing patterns.

When new true crime series are released they dominate placement and promotion on
their respective platforms from Netflix to HBO Max. In part, the success of true crime
programming is in response to the new levels of accurate data collection that evidence
its widespread popularity amongst subscribers of streaming services. Nevertheless, had
the format and approach of true crime as a genre not adapted to digital platforms and
their new modes of consumption it is unlikely they would have ascended to their
current status that attracts headlines in Documentary Business in 2023, such as ‘True
Crime Boon: the latest commissions’ (Hamilton 2023).
In addition to the important context of streaming services, key to true crime’s contin-
ued popularity has been its serialisation. Whether it is in the form of podcasts or the mul-
tiple episode and season shows on the global behemoths of Netflix and Amazon, or on
Australia’s free-to-air networks and their catch-up services, true crime-based/adapted/
inspired series have become a staple of programming. While serialised documentary pre-
dates the advent of streaming services and web-based consumption of media, documen-
tary content that is episodically and seasonally structured through narratives similar to
drama series has taken hold in the online world of digital media. According to Dennis
Broe (2019, 4),
[s]erial TV itself has challenged the old commercial constraints of having to tell a story in
one episode so that the series can be syndicated as a stand-alone entity. Instead serial pro-
ducers have spun a complex story that relies for its impact on consistent and more active
viewing.

Missing an episode is not an option for streaming users when it comes to serialised tele-
vision. The open-ended narrative structure driving each episode also advances the series
in an intricately bound manner, with resolutions or part resolutions only coming at
season finales.
Against the industrial upheavals occurring in television and an altered mediascape, the
true crime genre has experienced a large increase in popularity. Elizabeth Walters
suggests true crime serialised documentary television ‘remains popular and impactful
– and with each iteration continues to be carefully constructed in ways that profoundly
shape our conception of law enforcement and the justice system itself’ (2021, 34).
According to Cecil (2020, 46), ‘the foundation of today’s true-crime movement is pro-
vided by episodic programming’. With its appeal extended internationally through the
global uptake of streaming services and other web-based formats like podcasts and
catch-up TV applications, true crime series now operate within an expansive genre,
adapting form and content in response to changing audiences and their preferences.
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 101

Understanding the growing popularity of true crime necessarily means accounting for
why streaming services have embraced true crime programs and how their role in its
generic transformation reflects broader innovations that have reformulated television
content. The next sections discuss the nature of generic transformation in true crime
documentary series through the examination of two long-form documentary series.

Making a hit
In 2015, Netflix released the first season of Making a Murderer. Over 20 episodes and 2
seasons, writer/directors Laura Ricciardi and Moira Demos recount the events surround-
ing Steven Avery wrongly charged and convicted of attempted murder and rape. Avery
served 18 years of a 32-year sentence and after his release in 2003, he pursued a civil suit
against Manitowoc County for wrongful conviction. Filmed over a 10-year period, the
first season centred on the events occurring between 1985 and 2007. It covers the first
time Avery was charged and arrested for attempted murder and his successful appeal
and release in 2003 before being convicted once again of another murder that occurred
in his family’s scrapyard business in 2005.
Ianniello and Batty’s (2021) discussion of dramatic narrative conventions that charac-
terise what they refer to as ‘finite serials’ provides a useful lens through which to examine
narrative innovations in long-form true crime documentary series like Making a Mur-
derer. They argue ‘clues, red herrings, revelations, heightened suspense and eventual res-
olution’ are particular structural imperatives in crime and mystery genres (Ianniello and
Batty 2021, 65). There are clear parallels between these genre conventions and the struc-
tural logics required to follow the kind of in-depth investigation common in true crime
documentary, especially when it is organised as a long-form, multi-episode series like
Making a Murderer and The Staircase.
Ianneillo and Batty contend finite drama serials usually follow an A-story that
‘responds to one central dramatic question (CDQ) … posed in the first episode […]
developed over subsequent episodes and/or seasons […] is resolved and the serial con-
cludes’ (2021, 65). A central thematic question (CTQ) can then add story layers allowing
‘numerous character arcs to constellate and connect, orbiting around the CDQ’ (Ian-
niello and Batty 2021, 65). Making a Murderer adheres to these principles by following
Avery’s trial lawyers and court procedures for his second trial and murder charge.
With a central dramatic question configured around Avery’s innocence and the ability
of his defence team to prove it in court, the trial structure provides for a pre-determined
ending governed by the final reveal of a verdict. As in drama, the verdict creates a climax
that organises season one.
At the same time, Making a Murderer also manages to subvert narrative expectations
of a neatly resolved verdict. In the prologue of episode one, through shaky handheld
footage, Steven Avery is shown arriving home in 2003. Supported by newspaper head-
lines, the audience is informed new DNA evidence assisted Avery’s release after false
imprisonment and serving 18 years of a 30-year sentence. When Avery’s voice over com-
mences it counters the imagery of his joyous homecoming suggesting something is amiss.
Other voice-overs also present his release in the past tense and a female voice provides
the warning, ‘I did tell him, be careful […] Manitowoc County is not done with you’.
102 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

Left hanging on this heightened sense of suspense, the opening credits begin to roll across
a lengthy, graphic-laden and atmospheric title sequence.
When the first episode resumes it follows Avery’s civil suit against Manitowoc County,
with the central questions of why and how appearing to revolve around the circum-
stances that led to his wrongful conviction for attempted murder and sexual assault in
1985. The next sequence is supplied by archival footage combined with news footage
about his civil suit, then low-quality audio with Avery’s disembodied voice reflecting
on his civil suit shifts the narrative into the present tense. His visual absence combined
with the distant audio quality of his verbal account gives the impression he is speaking
down a telephone line and once again cues the audience to the possibility that all is
not well in Avery’s situation. The episode progresses by delving into his backstory
setting up how the series will unfold in the manner of a mystery with multiple twists
and turns. The recurring use of Avery’s disembodied voice that provides the narration
helps to place the audience in his precarious position; that of the accused rather than
that of the authorities.
Making a Murderer establishes suspense and questions that utilise the primary appeal
of true crime documentaries, that is the audience’s fear of becoming a victim of crime.
However, Making a Murderer supplies additional complexity to this trope because as
Walters (2021, 30) argues, it leverages it in
a wholly different way to suggest that viewers could become the victims not of crime but of
wrongful accusations and that innocence (or even reasonable doubt) may not guarantee
legal exoneration. The show also undercuts the veracity and perceived objectivity of forensic
evidence by emphasizing the ways in which it may be manipulated to help convict those
whose guilt, the series implies, has been predetermined by authorities …

By engaging in the back story of its characters and exploring the ambiguities of the case
against Avery and the complexity surrounding his former and current circumstances,
Making a Murderer was far from a tabloid exercise and manages to orchestrate
empathy for the different parties with competing viewpoints in a complex true crime
series.
Following what has become the standard strategy for Netflix, all 10 episodes of season
one of Making a Murderer were made available simultaneously on 18 December 2015.
The series became a true crime phenomenon reportedly securing Netflix 19 million
viewers in the United States in the first month it became available (Lynch 2016).

The Staircase – ascending from Canal+ to HBO to Netflix

The Staircase is a true crime documentary series that between 2004 and 2018 has var-
iously been packaged as an eight-episode mini-series, a two-hour news special and gen-
erated two sequels. Ultimately it was re-packaged into a 13-episode Netflix true crime
documentary series. The first iteration of The Staircase was produced by Jean-Xavier
de Lestrade for French and British broadcasters in 2004 as a mini-series to cover the
indictment and trial of American author, Michael Peterson, accused of murdering his
wife, Kathleen. De Lestrade gained further access to Michael Peterson and his family
between 2012 and 2013. The result was a two-hour sequel, the Staircase II that captured
Peterson’s release from jail and pending re-trial. In 2016, a second sequel, Staircase III,
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 103

was once again commissioned by French broadcaster Canal+ as a single feature-length

program. Both sequels and the original miniseries were then purchased by Netflix and
packaged into a 13-episode series that were all released for streaming on 8 June 2018.
Netflix was eager to gain access to the true crime series in the wake of their enormous
success with Making a Murderer.
The central dramatic question of The Staircase, as suggested in the first episode titled
‘Chapter 1: Crime or Accident’, asks, ‘Is he innocent or guilty?’ Did he murder his wife, or
did she fall? One of the central thematic questions is implied 21 minutes into the first
episode when David Rudolf, the defence lawyer for Michael Peterson states:
It always seemed to me that the greatest threat to our freedoms came not from people who
committed crimes but from the way that the government tends to respond to that and the
way the government tends to take on power for itself … And so, for me, being in the role of a
criminal defence lawyer is being in the role of a person who can do at least a little bit to hold
back some of the government excesses, to make sure that we don’t lose our freedoms in an
effort to protect them.

The thematic question that arises asks, How can we protect our personal freedoms? The
central thematic question is addressed by various participants throughout each episode,
reflecting Ianniello and Batty’s (2021) notion of multiple character perspectives exploring
the central thematic question. Though they are referring to dramatic narratives, the CTQ
provides an organising principle around which documentary narratives can be structured
across multiple episodes. In The Staircase, fear of the justice system not getting it right or
that we may never truly know the guilt or innocence of the accused and/or convicted, is
the core theme underpinning the narrative construction.
The long-form, episodic structure allows time for the evidence to be considered from
different perspectives of the participants, and by extension, the audience. The filmmaker
de Lestrade’s access was primarily to Peterson and his defence team, with limited access
to the prosecution, and as a result the series favours the perspectives of the defence team,
‘mounting the emotional narrative case for Michael Peterson’ (Bruzzi 2016, 255). While
Peterson is the main focus of the documentary, it is his lawyer, David Rudolf, whose per-
spective the audience is exposed to most and who appears to experience the most dra-
matic ‘character arc’.
From his initial articulation of the CTQ, it appears Rudolf believes his role is to protect
clients from an overzealous prosecution that might unfairly impinge on one’s freedom. In
discussing his defence strategy, he suggests that rather than attempt to prove Peterson’s
innocence, his strategy is to promote reasonable doubt. In ‘Chapter 8: The Verdict’ he
states:
You know, what we’ve basically built into our system is the notion that we want to have guilt
proven beyond a reasonable doubt to avoid innocent people going to prison. It’s not perfect,
but that’s the goal.

Court footage then shows Rudolf delivering his defence using slides to emphasise each
cause for reasonable doubt. A title superimposes ‘three hours later’ and dissolves back
in the court room where Rudolf plays the 911 call for help. It fades to black before
cutting to Michael Peterson reflecting on the possible outcomes. His apparent equani-
mity has a distancing effect, creating ambiguity regarding his guilt or innocence.
Twenty-eight minutes into ‘Chapter 8: The Verdict’, Peterson states:
104 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

I can, in a very loose definition live at peace with myself. And if you can do that, it really
doesn’t make any difference where that is. So, I’ll just probably just not be any different
on Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday if I come back to this house or if I go somewhere
else. It’s not going to change who I am or who I know I am. It will still be me. And the trap-
pings certainly could be very, very different. The environment certainly could be very
different but that’s just – environment.

This contrasts with Rudolf’s reaction after the jury returns a guilty verdict.
If there’s not at least reasonable doubt in this case, at least reasonable doubt, then I don’t
understand what I’m doing … it didn’t just disappoint me, it shook the foundations of
my beliefs. It shook the foundations of my beliefs in the justice system, in human beings,
in my own abilities, in my judgement, in my sense of reality … it just blew me away
emotionally and psychologically.

Rudolf’s are the last words heard at the end of ‘Chapter 8: The Verdict’ (the original final
episode in the series). It ends with wide shots of Peterson’s children sitting silently in
their home. Bruzzi (2016, 255) suggests ‘trials make such riveting screen entertainment
while also problematising the notion that they make the perfect subject matter for docu-
mentaries for their inherent narrative cohesion’. In The Staircase, the verdict resolves the
narrative but denies any kind of emotional resolution. As an audience, we are left to ques-
tion the outcome of the trial. It is perhaps why the filmmaker decided to give the last
word to Rudolf, so that, as an audience, we might identify and align with his perspective
and definitive emotional arc.
Despite the verdict being publicised at the time of its release, major reversals triggered
by new revelations and discoveries, push the narrative momentum across the first eight
episodes that culminate in Peterson’s guilty verdict. Revelations serve as narrative hooks
at the beginning of each episode. Peterson’s neighbour in Germany was found dead at the
bottom of a staircase at the start of ‘Chapter 3: A Striking Coincidence’. The discovery of
a blow poke, suggested to be the murder weapon, is a key piece of evidence found at the
start of ‘Chapter 7: The Blow Poke Returns’.
Similar to Making a Murderer, The Staircase also raises the stakes by implying there is
a sense of powerlessness experienced by anyone even accused of a crime against an all-
powerful State. Compounding it all is the possibility of a miscarriage of justice from a
flawed legal system. For Bruzzi (2016, 251),
[t]he Staircase resonated with viewers and continues to be influential and memorable largely
because, while it did not employ fictional methods such as reconstruction to embellish its
narrative explicitly, it did mobilise and exploit, often quite explicitly, a real trial’s inherent
melodrama and sensationalist narrative complexity.

While it fell short of the cultural phenomenon that was Making a Murderer, The Staircase
proved Netflix’s commitment to developing a new true crime series rather than immedi-
ately going down the sequel road to pursue a Making a Murderer II. Albeit a second
season of Making a Murderer was eventually released, it was not until 19 October
2018 and focused on Avery’s nephew, Brendan Dassey. True to its multi-iteration
origins, the true crime subject matter of The Staircase was recently capped in 2022
when HBO’s Max streaming service adapted it into a fully fledged, dramatised biographi-
cal drama series starring Colin Firth.
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 105

Underbelly – Australian network logics of a true crime franchise

The entirely dramatised series, Underbelly, is a reminder that actual true crime is mostly
the province of daily news bulletins routinely dispensed with tabloid style hype then for-
gotten in the rapid churn of accelerating news cycles. The Melbourne gangland wars that
became the subject matter of Underbelly, however, had been a fixture in Australian news
for close to a decade, from 1994 to 2005. Chronicling the events sees Underbelly aligned
with Ian Punnett’s (2018, 12) observation that, ‘true crime reports on past newsworthy
murder narratives, with an emotional component intended to prioritize such sensations
as horror, fear, pain, and frustration, which is either to its shame, or its credit, depending
on the disposition of the observer’.
As a true crime series, Underbelly is steeped in the network environment of the broad-
cast era. Producers, Des Monahgan and Bob Campbell, are former Seven network execu-
tives who left to form their own production company, Screentime. Underbelly first aired
on Australia’s free-to-air commercial network, Channel Nine, between 13 February and 7
May 2008. It was adapted into a 13-episode true crime drama from the investigative jour-
nalism of John Silvester and Andrew Rule and their 2004 book, Leadbelly – Inside Aus-
tralia’s Underworld Wars.
The first season was based on the events surrounding Melbourne’s infamous gangland
killings between 1995 and 2004 which led to at least 34 deaths (Boland 2009). Due to a
court injunction in Melbourne, Underbelly was initially prevented from being televised in
the State of Victoria but it aired in every other Territory and State capital city in Australia
and secured the number one ratings spot. If the series had screened in Melbourne, it is
argued that in 2008 it would have been the most-watched program in Australia (Boland
2009).
The early ratings success of season one in 2008 contributed to Underbelly becom-
ing Australia’s premiere true crime brand and the first true crime drama franchise
that includes an anthology series and four telemovies (Sydney Morning Herald
2009). The anthology series consists of six seasons (2008–2013) comprising 68 epi-
sodes that recount events and personalities drawn from Australia’s history of organ-
ised crime. The four ‘stand alone’ telemovies extended the brand under the title,
Underbelly Files, aired between 7 and 21 February 2011: Tell Them Lucifer Was
Here (2011a), Infiltration (2011b), and The Man Who Got Away (2011c). In 2018 a
fourth instalment was produced, Underbelly Files: Chopper.
Despite the upheavals in television since it first appeared in 2008, Underbelly rep-
resents a successful true crime franchise that has continued to find audience appeal in
Australia in the era of streaming services. Although latter seasons have been made avail-
able on the catch-up, video on demand services provided by Nine Now, the altered
context surrounding the consumption of Australian television has not been incorporated
into its narrative structures. Indeed, moving in the opposite direction to multi-episode
seasons of true crime programming, the 2022 Underbelly season, Vanishing Act,
reduced the season down to two episodes, the shortest season of any Underbelly
program. This was a significant drop down from 8 episodes of seasons five and six,
and the 13 episodes of seasons one to four.
Constituting the seventh season of the anthology collection, Vanishing Act dramatises
the events surrounding the disappearance of Melissa Caddick, a fraudster and financial
106 S. MAHER AND S. CAKE

embezzler who captured nationwide attention in 2021 when her severed foot myster-
iously appeared on a beach in southern New South Wales. Media speculation was rife
that she may have performed the deed herself in an effort to mask the fact she was
still alive. With its sensationalism and topicality, the Caddick story does not easily fit
into the previous canon of Underbelly that consistently focused on Australia’s organised
crime networks.
In describing its appeal for dramatisation, screenwriter Matt Ford observed Caddick’s
story is ‘such a great mix of tragedy, horror, Gothic weirdness and sadness’ (Rugendyke
2022). One of the challenges that perhaps prevented the series from being developed
beyond two episodes was the lack of narrative closure provided by a trial verdict.
Instead, in an attempt to negotiate the real-life events, the writers positioned the fictio-
nalised Caddick as an unreliable narrator and posed three possible scenarios to account
for her disappearance. In May 2023, the coronial inquest determined that Melissa
Caddick is probably dead, but the coroner could not identify the cause of death. In
keeping with innovations in true crime genre, the coronial verdict might serve as a nar-
rative plot point around which a longer form true crime documentary series or drama
adaptation might be developed.
Despite the generic transformations occurring in the true crime genre, with only two
episodes, Vanishing Act reflects pre-streaming era approaches true crime programming.
Australia’s free-to-air broadcasters have adapted to the streaming era of television
through innovations in the way audiences access their free-to-air content. The respective
catch-up and on-demand services are adept responses to the new modes of spectatorship
and media consumption behaviours produced by web-based television services. Cru-
cially, however, technology and web-based access only ever form part of an innovation
equation. Content remains ‘king’ as testified by the unprecedented scale of original pro-
gramming commissioned by Netflix, Amazon, Disney+ and other international stream-
ing services.
Television content produced for the streaming era must take into account changes in
form that reflect the new consumption habits and preferences accompanying web-based
media platforms. Narrative innovation supported by formal changes like documentary
serialisation has underscored the popularity of the true crime genre on international
streaming platforms. In contrast, true crime programming produced in Australia
seems fixed when it comes to formal and narrative innovations and is more evocative
of the legacy media era of broadcast television than the current video on demand era
of web-based media dominated by streaming services.

Conclusion
The three examples focused on in this discussion, The Staircase, Making a Murderer and
Underbelly, provide insights into how narrative is employed to negotiate ‘the real’ of their
respective true crime content and how this reflects levels of program innovation. As Cecil
highlights (2020, 7), ‘[o]ne must acknowledge that the genre is currently undergoing a
transformation, which means that the traditional definitions of true crime will need to
be expanded to encompass the newest types of narratives and experiences’. Narrative
innovation is a key means through which this transformation of true crime is continuing
to occur.
 STUDIES IN AUSTRALASIAN CINEMA 107

The influence of long-form drama continues to be felt in documentary series produced

and distributed across streaming platforms like Netflix and HBO Max et al., with one of
the central structuring devices being seasons comprised of more than six episodes. The
combination of structured multi-episode seasons coinciding with an increase in the
factual quotient of true crime programming has elevated the true crime genre into
some of the most popular streaming programs. True crime has proven indicative of
how generic transformation manifesting through long-form narrative offers solutions
in terms of re-tooling former genre and television formats. Australian true crime
content seems primed for such a re-invention. Embracing documentary serialisation
offers formal alternatives that not only elevate true crime as a genre beyond tabloid con-
ventions but can provide compelling narrative innovation beyond indiscriminate
dramatisations.

Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes on contributors
Dr Sean Maher is Associate Professor in the Film, Screen & Animation Discipline in the Crea-
tive Industries Faculty at QUT. In 2019 he was ranked as ‘Australia’s leading researcher in Film’.
In 2017 he was Visiting Scholar at the UCLA Film and TV Archives that contributed to his
2021 monograph, Film Noir and Los Angeles – Urban History and the Dark Imaginary, pub-
lished by Routledge.
Dr Susan Cake lectures in screenwriting at the Queensland University of Technology. In 2018
she was awarded Outstanding Doctoral Thesis for her creative practice-led research examin-
ing how writing narrative comedy performed creative resistance in her proposed television
series, Fighting Fit. She recently completed a market analysis report for Screen Queensland
on the feasibility of studio expansion on the Gold Coast and her current research explores
technological disruptions to script development and writing for expanded notions of ‘the
screen’.

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