CLICKBAIT: A Crime Thriller for the Digital Age [REVIEW]

In an era when viewers are literally flooded with an unmanageable number of films and series, there’s something ironic about calling a show Clickbait. After all, a catchy, journalism-inspired title does exactly what it promises — it lures you into choosing this particular production. The Australian-American Netflix series created by Tony Ayres and Christian White is a classic crime story updated with internet-driven threads that serve as a genuine hook for audiences hungry for tales about the troubles of the modern world. And perhaps there’s nothing wrong with that kind of clickbait.

Clickbait begins with a simple but effective premise: Nick Brewer, a loving husband and father working at a local college, suddenly disappears. Soon a video surfaces online in which the battered man holds up signs reading: “I abuse women” and “At 5 million views, I die.” A police investigation begins, plunging his family into turmoil as its emotional backbone is suddenly torn away. As the search intensifies, new — and not always flattering — facts about Nick’s life emerge, tensions flare among his loved ones, and the noise of the media and an obsessed public grows louder.

The early passages of Clickbait may evoke the first episodes of Black Mirror (especially the premiere, The National Anthem). The crime plot is wrapped in a disturbing layer of media predation, voyeuristic obsession, and the unpredictability of online algorithms. Over time, this sociological edge gives way to a more traditional story about chaos and the erosion of relationships triggered by a sudden crisis, but the initial suggestion of multiple points of view directly shapes the show’s narrative structure. Each of the eight episodes is told from the perspective of someone connected to Nick in a different way.

This allows us to see various contexts of Nick’s life firsthand, introduces overlapping timelines that nuance events we already know, and creates the impression of an impenetrable storm of clashing information and viewpoints.

The chosen convention means Clickbait relies on a broad and varied ensemble cast. The most recognizable faces are Adrian Grenier (Entourage, The Devil Wears Prada) as Nick and Zoe Kazan (The Big Sick, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs) as his sister Pia. It’s through Pia that the story begins; she is, in practice, the show’s protagonist. Kazan delivers a strong performance, but she can’t entirely overcome the utilitarian writing of her character — Pia is an adult punk rebel with dyed short hair and combat boots, the Brewers’ outspoken black sheep.

Unsurprisingly, no one really wants to listen to her — and yet she is almost always right, single-handedly pushing the investigation forward. The character’s schematic nature becomes increasingly grating, because there’s no deeper backstory to support her, and at times it feels as if she exists mainly to barge in, display her infallibility, and force other characters to reveal key information. Something simply doesn’t work here; the structural weaknesses in how she fits into the network of relationships make it difficult for Kazan to carry the show, and one might even feel Clickbait would be more compelling without this all-knowing heroine pulling solutions out of a hat.

Far more interesting are the characters surrounding Pia — fortunately granted enough screen time thanks to the episode-by-episode shift in perspective. The standout here is Betty Gabriel as Sophie, Nick’s wife, who must deal with a family in crisis, confront her marital doubts, and face the potentially dark side of her husband. Gabriel brings the most ambiguity and tension to Clickbait, and her scenes with Kazan are the show’s few dramatically successful moments.

Gabriel is, for me, the unquestionable star of the series, and if I had to name one reason to watch Clickbait, it would be her performance. Also compelling, though more in the background, are Jessica Collins as Emma — a woman claiming to be Nick’s lover — and Daniel Henshall as one of the suspects. The chance to view events from multiple, often distant perspectives keeps each episode feeling fresh, almost like a standalone story with a new lead actor.

Although Clickbait — fittingly, given its title — loses some momentum as it goes, and its climax doesn’t match the suspense generated early on, the Ayres and White series remains a solid crime drama. Cleverly structured and competently executed, the story draws you in so effectively that its eight episodes pass almost unnoticed. There’s nothing groundbreaking here, nor does the show provoke in the style of Black Mirror; in fact, the closer it gets to the end, the more it slips into familiar patterns. Still, the creators weave the mystery with elements of social commentary, enriching the series with reflections — even if occasionally bordering on cliché — on the dynamics of modern communication and media.