In the words of the celebrated Janet Malcolm, "Every journalist who is not too dim-witted or too full of himself to notice what is going on, knows that what he does is morally indefensible." If you've delved into the realm of nonfiction writing, you've likely encountered this sentiment with a roll of your eyes. But let me elucidate for those who find themselves uninitiated. These words open the door to Malcolm's 1989 masterpiece, "The Journalist and the Murderer," a tale of legal wrangling between a journalist, Joe McGinniss, and a murderer, Jeffrey MacDonald. When McGinniss signed on to pen a book about MacDonald, he vowed to cast him in a heroic light. However, as time with MacDonald deepened, McGinniss became increasingly convinced of his guilt. As a journalist, he understood the value of access, so he kept silent about his intention to expose the truth in his book.
Now, imagine a scenario where instead of McGinniss encountering MacDonald in a professional setting, MacDonald moves in next door. Picture this: McGinniss, let's say, is Claire Danes, struggling for over two years to complete and publish a follow-up to her best-selling memoir. This is the essence of Netflix's new crime thriller, "The Beast in Me." Danes portrays Agatha "Aggie" Wiggs (a goofy name, I know, but she's deadly serious), a writer residing in the picturesque Oyster Bay on Long Island. She embodies the quintessential David E. Kelly protagonist: a big house, beautiful sweaters, and a respected position in her field. Yet, Aggie is falling apart.
The opening scene of "Sick Puppy" reveals Aggie's bloodied face screaming at the scene of a car crash as another woman searches for a boy named Cooper. Later, we learn that the woman is her now-ex-wife, Shelley (Natalie Morales), and Cooper was their son who died that night. Years have passed, but Aggie is still struggling to come to terms with her loss. Her house is in dire need of repairs; the drains are spewing black, disgusting liquid. She receives notices in the mail. Her writing is lacking luster. Shelley ignores her messages and won't answer her calls.
It's in this context that Nile Jarvis (Matthew Rhys) moves into the house next door. Aggie's first impression of him is that neither he nor his French security guards can control his German shepherds, who startle Aggie's little dog, Steve. Her neighbor informs her that Nile wants to construct a private jogging path in the surrounding woods for the neighborhood to enjoy. To this end, he's sent friendly letters with easement agreements to everyone's mailboxes; so far, no one has objected. It's unclear whether they think the jogging path is a good idea or because Nile is notorious for potentially having killed his wife. As she returns home after trashing her own letter from Nile, Aggie looks him up for a refresher on the case: His wife, Madison, simply disappeared. After a long investigation, no charges were filed and no one was arrested, but both press and public agreed it had to have been Nile.
Upon meeting him, it was almost impossible not to come to such a conclusion. Just ten minutes into the premiere, I felt the urge to plunge my hand into the fire: This man has truly done it. In fact, any accusation leveled at him is likely to be true. The Jarvises left a box of wine on Aggie's doorstep as an apology for their dogs' misbehavior, and the next morning, she goes to their house to return it, despite her aversion to alcohol. Her rehearsed hostility is disarmed by the warmth of Nile's wife, Nina (played by Brittany Snow), who professes to be a huge fan of Aggie's work. It's an awkward encounter, but not openly combative until Nile pops his head out of his office and asks Aggie to discuss the jogging path.
Nile Jarvis is a real-estate tycoon with a sinister streak, and he speaks as if he is convinced of his superiority. He pulls Aggie's book down from his shelf and proceeds to insult her in a hundred different ways: It's been too long since her book came out; someone as trapped in her "mind palace" as she is ought to get out; she'd benefit greatly from the jogging path. But Aggie, already incensed about the dogs, the blaring alarm that goes off at night, and the presumptuousness of the easement agreement, is firm in her answer: She won't sign. Nile offers her money, which only makes things worse. Still, she remains polite; she only loses her composure when Nile provokes that she "hasn't published anything since [her] little boy died." Imagine saying that to someone you just met! You'd have to be a psychopath. Aggie's blood visibly rises, but Nile maintains his unsettling cool throughout the whole interaction.
Nile caught Aggie on a particularly bad day: It's the anniversary of Cooper's death, and Shelley hasn't responded to any of her texts about visiting his grave together. When Aggie arrives, she sees a young man and his mother paying their respects, and a brawl immediately ensues. The camera zooms around Aggie as she charges straight for the guy, intent on shoving him. We learn that this is Teddy Fenig, the kid driving the other car the night of Cooper's death, and that Aggie blames him entirely for the crash. "He killed our son, then lied," Aggie cries out to Shelley, who arrives just in time to break up the fight. Aggie's aggression is such that the Fenigs have obtained a restraining order against her, and it's implied that her difficulty managing her rage was part of what destroyed her marriage. Shelley seems to be trying to move on, however incompletely: She has a new partner from whom she's taking a break and is resuming life as a painter.
Aggie is angry, but she clearly loves Shelley. The saddest thing about her character is the way affection has been stamped out of her life by rage. When Aggie receives a call from her editor and friend, Carol (Deirdre O'Connell), she braces for a dressing down about her manuscript's delay, but Carol only wants to make sure she's doing all right. Aggie tells her about the cemetery, the gross sink (which just exploded on her), and Nile Jarvis next door. She also asks Carol if there's any possibility of getting another advance to help her keep afloat with her bills, but being two years behind on delivery, Carol thinks the publisher, Bob, is losing hope. Maybe if she can turn in just a couple of chapters, to show him she's working? If only she could find some fresh material, something to really get her gears going...
The following day, as a plumber probed Aggie's ruined pipes, Nile appeared to request her autograph for his copy of Sick Puppy. The diabolical glint in his eye, captured in the shot just before, hinted at his sinister plan to forge her signature in order to secure his jogging path. This appeal to her ego would undoubtedly resonate with a writer, especially one at a precarious and insecure juncture in her career. Nile offered to take Aggie to lunch as a means of making amends for their misstep earlier. She initially declined, but his persistence was both aggressive, arrogant, and compelling—and she finally agreed to meet him at Eleanor's. As she walked in, a man watched her from a car parked nearby.
Over lunch, Aggie and Nile shared their stories with the other patrons of the restaurant watching them intently. Nile hailed from Oyster Bay, while Aggie had won a Pulitzer and relocated there from Brooklyn. Sick Puppy had been about her father, a con man and fraudster from whom she was estranged. She was currently working on a biography of Ruth Bader Ginsburg's unlikely friendship with Antonin Scalia. Nile was unconvinced that this topic was as good as her veiled admiration for her father—or as good as his own story. "You want another best seller," he taunted, "you should write about me." Nile recognized in Aggie some of his own ruthlessness—what he called her "bloodlust." Aggie told him that Cooper had been killed in a drunk-driving accident, and that Teddy had refused the Breathalyzer at the scene of the crash. By the time the authorities finally checked his levels, he was under the limit. She also revealed that he had lied about her driving erratically. All of this combined suggested to the shrewd Nile that Aggie was full of rage—which was perhaps why she wasn't scared of him, unlike everyone else. As if to simultaneously demonstrate his ability to terrify people and prove that Aggie sort of enjoyed it, he walked over to a woman who had surreptitiously taken his picture and smashed her phone with his elbow after she refused to delete it. Aggie was shocked and a little thrilled; she smiled.
Outside the restaurant, they saw Teddy Fenig emerge from a corner market with his friends, and Aggie told Nile how difficult it was to see him every day. Malice flickered across Nile's face as he followed Teddy with his eyes; "It's not right," he said. Before Aggie left, Nile asked her to consider taking money for the jogging path. As she drove away, she could see him in the rearview mirror, watching Teddy.
That night, Aggie took a pill before going to bed. A thunderstorm raged on, and just as she settled into her sleep, she heard a knock on her door. Downstairs, the man who had been watching her earlier was trying to break into her house through the back door. When she grabbed a knife, he showed her his FBI badge and explained that he was only trying to warn her. He was Special Agent Brian Abbott (David Lyons), and like everyone else, he was drunk. With a general hangdog demeanor and supplicant eyes, he told her that he couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell her to be careful around Nile. "He's not like us," he pleaded before leaving. He knew best: Abbott had been the lead investigator in the Jarvis case, and he seemed to have his own agenda. He didn't confirm when Aggie asked, but if the case was closed as she believed, then what was he doing following Nile around?
In any case, his point was proven the next morning when Aggie woke up to a call from Shelley informing her that Teddy Fenig had disappeared the previous night. His car had been found by the beach, and the authorities believed he had drowned himself. The information suggested that his body hadn't been found yet—which sounded an awful lot like another murder they had just learned about. As Aggie shook her head in horror, she remembered telling Nile that all she wanted was for Teddy to suffer like she did. In the most direct move of a premiere that had shown little regard for subtlety (complimentary), Aggie's face merged with Nile's as she asked herself: What did you do?
