UNDER THE BRIDGE. What do we do when culture is more important than the individual [REVIEW]

After Murder at the End of the World, another atmospheric crime series has arrived on Disney+: Under the Bridge. This series blends crime with elements of fantasy and sociological-ethnic themes. There’s a bit of moralizing, but it’s more discreet compared to other contemporary productions addressing social issues. Under the Bridge is based on a true story about a death that shook the local community of Victoria in British Columbia in 1997. It occurred under the titular Craigflower Bridge and still evokes semi-fantastical emotions today. A book by Rebecca Godfrey was even written about it, and her character appears in the series, partnered with the excellent Lily Gladstone. This duo saves the series because it’s not always engaging, but I recommend it if you can endure all the flashbacks. Under the Bridge can surprise you, not so much in the crime aspect, but in its sociological and dramatic elements, weaving an uncomfortable reflection for the searching mind on how humans cannot live without belonging and the foolish things they do to belong.

The titular statement is provocative, just like the plot of Under the Bridge, which, under the guise of a crime story, presents the entire irrationality and malevolence of human behavior when culture and religiosity are deemed more important than being a good and honest person. The problem is that cultural-religious principles enforce the abandonment of humanistic values, introducing their own systems that solely benefit the organization, not the individual with all their psychological and biological complexity. Thus, reality has provided the creators with interesting and abstract examples—such as the Hindu families who, in their desire to belong to the new country’s community, not only abandon their faith and culture but adopt the oppressive ideology of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Their daughter feels the need to rebel against her status and family ideals, attempting to join a gang of delinquent girls from a reform school. Additionally, Rebecca and Cam have an affair that defies not only the heterosexual norms of the small community but also the principles of ethnic pairing.

The world depicted in Under the Bridge is, in a sense, distorted. Listening to what the characters say and seeing how emotionally blind they are makes you want to grind your teeth in embarrassment at their human stupidity, or rather, cultural blindness. This is what they pass on to their children, making it clear why they are prone to committing crimes just to stand out. Eventually, a crime occurs, and figuring out who the murderer is—whether it’s a single deviant or a group committing the crime through his hands—seems too complicated to have happened in reality. And yet, this is what makes it so captivating, despite its production flaws.

The main flaw is the flashbacks, which disrupt the atmosphere built by the main plot, especially through the loss of focus on the main characters played by Riley Keough and Lily Gladstone. Well-known musical motifs and HDR post-processed images are not enough to compensate for these stylistic and rhythmic changes from episode to episode, along with the varying engagement of the actors in their roles. One might also wonder if five episodes would have sufficed. The intrigue isn’t that long, and speeding up many conversations could have enriched the pace, perhaps even increased the suspense. As it is, there are moments of boredom, leaving viewers with crumbs of the crime story. The rest is repeatedly processed analyses of rebellious teenagers’ lives. There’s no need to repeat them scene after scene, just changing the words.

The series serves as an encouragement to explore the book report. It’s not about finding out who the murderer is, but understanding the process that led to the crime, not just this one but many others committed by young people completely unaware of the consequences of seemingly insignificant actions. Episodes 7 and 8 of Under the Bridge completely break the detective atmosphere because everything seems clear by then. The viewer has formed an opinion about the perpetrators, and a courtroom drama unfolds. However, nothing is that obvious, which is why it’s worth waiting for the last scene, when a CD starts spinning in the player, and the joyful Virk couple notices something near the newly mounted door to a room that should make the viewer think deeply. These “newly mounted doors” appear much earlier and are crucial to Reena’s actions. I mention them because it’s easy for the viewer to miss this detail. So what do we do when culture is more important than people? We pretend it’s real because we don’t have the courage to deny it, fearing that we won’t cope as lonely outcasts. So we believe in something that has never happened before and is merely our anxious confabulation.