Working as a documentary filmmaker can be an all-consuming experience, especially when it comes to the true-crime genre. The 2010s saw a surge in popularity for these types of films and shows, with titles like "The Jinx" and "Making a Murderer" captivating audiences worldwide. As I began my own journey into making documentaries, I found myself drawn to the puzzle-solving aspect of true crime - the way clues fit together to reveal a narrative, no matter how complex or unsolved.
My first foray into adapting a true-crime book was The Zodiac Killer Cover-Up by Lyndon Lafferty. Published in 2005, the memoir details Lafferty's decades-long quest to catch the infamous Bay Area serial killer, who claimed five victims between the late 1960s and early 1970s. As I pursued the rights to adapt this book into a film, my imagination ran wild - I pictured a series of tense close-ups reenacting Lafferty's fateful rest stop encounter, followed by a montage of news footage and crime scene images.
However, reality soon set in. The more research I did on the case, the more I realized that piecing together the evidence would be a daunting task. With six different accounts of the killer's height alone, it was hard to discern which theory was true. True-crime documentaries often rely on speculation and conjecture, but this only seemed to further muddy the waters.
The industry's reliance on sensationalism and formulaic storytelling is also a concern. Shows like "Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story" and "Don't F**k With Cats" use graphic reenactments to engage viewers, while also questioning their appeal. Are we voyeuristically indulging in the suffering of others, or simply trying to make sense of the world? It's these complex questions that I sought to explore through my own project.
In the end, The Zodiac Killer Project remained unrealized - a film beat by beat, documented in real-time over footage of everyday Vallejo scenes. While it was an elegy for a failed project, it also became an attempt to grapple with the true-crime genre as a whole. By examining my own complicity in its creation and consumption, I hoped to spark a necessary conversation about ethics and responsibility.
As I look back on my journey into making documentaries, it's clear that true crime has become an integral part of our popular culture. Whether we acknowledge it or not, the industry is here to stay - and as long as it continues to shape the documentary landscape, its influence will be felt far beyond its sensational headlines.
My first foray into adapting a true-crime book was The Zodiac Killer Cover-Up by Lyndon Lafferty. Published in 2005, the memoir details Lafferty's decades-long quest to catch the infamous Bay Area serial killer, who claimed five victims between the late 1960s and early 1970s. As I pursued the rights to adapt this book into a film, my imagination ran wild - I pictured a series of tense close-ups reenacting Lafferty's fateful rest stop encounter, followed by a montage of news footage and crime scene images.
However, reality soon set in. The more research I did on the case, the more I realized that piecing together the evidence would be a daunting task. With six different accounts of the killer's height alone, it was hard to discern which theory was true. True-crime documentaries often rely on speculation and conjecture, but this only seemed to further muddy the waters.
The industry's reliance on sensationalism and formulaic storytelling is also a concern. Shows like "Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story" and "Don't F**k With Cats" use graphic reenactments to engage viewers, while also questioning their appeal. Are we voyeuristically indulging in the suffering of others, or simply trying to make sense of the world? It's these complex questions that I sought to explore through my own project.
In the end, The Zodiac Killer Project remained unrealized - a film beat by beat, documented in real-time over footage of everyday Vallejo scenes. While it was an elegy for a failed project, it also became an attempt to grapple with the true-crime genre as a whole. By examining my own complicity in its creation and consumption, I hoped to spark a necessary conversation about ethics and responsibility.
As I look back on my journey into making documentaries, it's clear that true crime has become an integral part of our popular culture. Whether we acknowledge it or not, the industry is here to stay - and as long as it continues to shape the documentary landscape, its influence will be felt far beyond its sensational headlines.