Netflix teases real-life thriller series 'Dirty John' FREE now for the biggest moments from morning TV SUBSCRIBE Invalid email Sign up fornow for the biggest moments from morning TV When you subscribe we will use the information you provide to send you these newsletters. Sometimes they'll include recommendations for other related newsletters or services we offer. Our Privacy Notice explains more about how we use your data, and your rights. You can unsubscribe at any time. Netflix viewers are currently binging their way through Dirty John, which is based on a real story told in an acclaimed podcast and series of articles. Dirty John is available to watch online on Netflix in the UK and Bravo in the US. Dirty John on Netflix is based on the true story of the relationship between John Meehan (played by Eric Bana) and Debra Newell (Connie Britton). Is Dirty John based on a true story? WARNING: The following contains potential spoilers for Dirty John on Netflix Yes, Dirty John is based on real-life events and true crimes. Dirty John the Netflix series is based on the relationship between Meehan and Debra Newell (Connie Britton). According to The Sun, the pair met on an online dating site for the over-50s. Dirty John the Netflix story is based on the true story of John Meehan The pair then married in Las Vegas in secret after just two months. Meehan had told Debra he was an anesthesiologist, a lie he compounded by constantly wearing medical scrubs. Her daughters Terra (Julia Garner) and Jacquelyn (renamed Veronica in the series and played by Juno Temple) were suspicious about their mother’s new husband and so they encouraged her nephew Shad (renamed Toby and played by Kevin Zegers) to do some digging on him. He discovered Meehan had served jail time for stealing anaesthetic from the hospital he had worked at. Three women had also served ordered injunctions against him because of his harassing behaviour. Dirty John is based on a true story first heard on a podcast Among other bad behaviours, Meehan had stolen money, sent threatening letters to women and tried to extort money from people using nude photos of them. Debra’s daughters revealed this information to her, leading to her splitting up with Meehan in 2016. He then began harassing her, threatening to release nude photos of her and even set her car on fire. This escalated until one night Meehan pulled up his car next to Terra and grabbed her from behind. He took a knife out of his bag and managed to cut her on her arms. The real-life Dirty John was killed by Terra Newell, played on Netflix by Julia Garner (left)<doc-sep>Strange as it might sound, there’s something almost comforting about the prospect of watching ITV’s Fred and Rose West: The Real Story with Trevor McDonald, which makes its overdue appearance tomorrow night, having being pulled from the January 31 schedules at the last moment due to legal concerns, since resolved. The details are horrific, of course. The sadomasochistic Wests are the most notorious serial killers in British history, who tortured and murdered young strangers, as well as their own children, and buried them in the cellar and garden of their house at 25 Cromwell Street. But you know you’re going to be in safe hands with Sir Trevor, the veteran newsman who British viewers regularly named the most trusted person on television throughout his years anchoring News at Ten. You know the programme, disturbing as the subject matter is, won’t be unnecessarily lurid or sensationalist. It won’t wallow in the gruesome details and, just as importantly, it won’t outstay its welcome. It’ll be over and done with in an hour. This is an increasing rarity at a time when true-crime series have come to dominate TV and streaming services, not just because of the sheer volume of them, but also in terms of their sometimes punishing length. The two seasons of Netflix’s Making a Murderer ran for 10 episodes apiece, even though the (non) events of the second could just as easily have been dispensed with in a two-hour special. The extremely dubious Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, also from Netflix, tried desperately hard to persuade us, over the course of four chunky episodes, that the vile serial killer, rapist and necrophile was a fascinating character worthy of deep study, when in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Behind the psychopathic rage, all there was was more psychopathic rage. Bundy — like Charles Manson and John Lennon’s murderer Mark Chapman — was a nothing, a narcissistic mediocrity. Documentarian Joe Berlinger, who made Conversations with a Killer, isn’t done with his Bundy obsession. He’s also directed a feature film called Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, which stars Zac Efron as Bundy and comes out in May. It’s anyone’s guess how that will be received by the public, but if anything suggests the true-crime genre is entering its dying days, it’s Dirty John, which landed on Netflix (again!) last week, having gone out on pay channel Bravo in the US before Christmas. It’s an unusual one, this, in that it’s based on a very popular podcast of the same name by LA Times journalist Christopher Goffard. I can only assume that was a lot better than the dramatised version. For a change, the subject, John Meehan, wasn’t a killer, although there’s no doubt he would have become one if — SPOILER ALERT!— his intended victim hadn’t managed to grab hold of his knife during a struggle and stab him 13 times. He died in hospital four days later. Meehan, played by Eric Bana, was a sociopathic conman, stalker and manipulator who charmed and married wealthy Californian interior designer Debra Newel (Connie Britton). Newell swallowed every lie Meehan fed her, including that he was a doctor who’d served in Iraq. Her daughters, played by Juno Temple and Julia Garner, smelled a rat from the beginning. For a series rooted in fact, Dirty John is strangely flat and artificial. It resembles a cheesy Hallmark Movie of the Week, dragged out to eight hours. Obviously, we’re supposed to sympathise with Debra. As played by Britton, though, she’s infuriatingly passive and gullible; a walking definition of the old saying “more money than sense”. Maybe she really was this gormless, but the truth has never looked phonier. Dirty John is streaming on Netflix. Fred and Rose: The Real Story with Trevor McDonald is on UTV/ITV tomorrow, Thursday, at 9pm Read More Herald<doc-sep>Dirty John Cast: Connie Britton, Eric Bana, Julia Garner, Juno Temple, Jean Smart, Shea Whigham Director: Jeffrey Reiner Have I ever conveyed why I absolutely love true-crime? Quite simply, true-crime has more drama than narrative fiction; more chills than psycho-horror, thus, more catharsis than a classic mystery-thriller. The last one: not always though. As such, real life criminals have inspired many villains in Hollywood, and we know how much Hollywood likes harkening back to its culture of violence and insanity for creating popular content. Continuing the tradition, this week, Netflix has come out with another original, Dirty John, trying its best to satiate my growing curiosity for true-crime. To say that it has all the ingredients, aforementioned, blended together to the right proportion would be to liken Dirty John to some of the better genre series I have previously seen on Netflix, which is not the case here. But Dirty John certainly has something good going on, something nasty yet worthy. Created for television by Alexandra Cunningham (Bates Motel, Chance), Dirty John is based on the very popular podcast of the same name created by Christopher Goffard of the Los Angeles Times and Wondery in October 2017. The TV series has been produced by Los Angeles Times Studios and is directed by Jeffrey Reiner (Fargo and Homeland). Connie Britton plays the role of Debra Newell, a 50-something woman, continually judged by her two young daughters, searching for love. She is a successful interior designer, and yet, four marriages flushed down the drain, wants to settle with someone, again. Online dating has brought her closer to a pool of potential lovers, however, the connection, with each one, seems to be lost, somewhere between desperation and expensive luncheons. Maybe, she is being too hard on herself for wanting the perfect guy! Enter John Meehan (Eric Bana), a smart, charming soul, who, for once, would actually listen to Debra. Shorts and T-shirt, nothing too much but still a caring man. Debra falls in love, quick as a wink. The next steps: moving in together and getting married happen rather quickly, and against her daughters’ preference and knowledge, but who cares as long as Debra gets what she deserves. Love. As truth reveals itself, John is not what Debra thinks he is- a kind husband, a loving sweetheart. No. To be fair to her, he is all of this from the outside, but on the inside, John is a serial con artist, and Debra is just a game that he is too much invested in to not be winning at all cost. What powers this beautiful-set-up-turned-worst-nightmare are the performances of the characters, both lead and supportive. Connie is Debra. The role was carved out for her, or rather she moulds herself for this role. Debra’s fear, confusion, uncertainty, vulnerability and doubt are all rolled into Connie’s being, in front of the camera, and she materialises perfectly into the victim that she is meant to play. Nowhere is she overboard with her emotions. Subtlety is her strong suit. Bana is equally good. John was menacing by virtue of his existence and we witness that in Bana’s physiognomy. He doesn’t need to shout, threaten or break things to appear intimidating. He’d rather be smart and let things take their usual course before intervening. Pushed over the limit, he is nasty in wordplay and frightening in demeanor, which is enough to suggest the opponent maintain the distance. There are some strong character portrayals by Julia Garner as Terra Newell, Juno Temple as Veronica Newell and Jean Smart as Arlene Hart, and a delightful small appearance by Shea Whigham as William Meehan, John’s father. Arlene and William bridge Debra’s and John’s past with their present. Where they are both coming from, where they are at and to what extent can they go are tightly rolled into two episodes, connecting individual past with their folks. As for Terra and Veronica, they are the daughters that one would want, and at times not want, in every sense of the word. They complete the portrait of a happy-family-turned-unwilling-victims, with Debra in focus. Obnoxiously overbearing in meddling with Debra’s life, a little selfish that way too, but who wouldn’t want to save their mother from a sociopath and a potential killer. Reiner’s directorial strength lies in impartial retelling of the story. In separating us from the victims and perpetrator, he is hinting that we dissociate from them and look out for our own because things can go south for anyone. Long shots are used to orient us with the setting of Dirty John, which largely unfolds inside houses. Strangely, homes are supposed to be a safe place for the dweller. Not here though, not even close. Editing, however, is what elevates storytelling in Dirty John. The past and present are intercut to place us on top of the narrative that is yet to unfold. It is also meant to give individual characters upper hand over the other. Since action is taking place at several places together, no one really has the lead, except the viewers. But then all comes to a point where we are together with John and Debra again, with our little insight, but to no avail, as we don’t know what they might do next. Dirty John is a good show, not a great show. To be honest, the Wondery podcast was better. The anthology series has been renewed for another season. Dirty John is currently streaming on Netflix. Watch it for its climax. Rating: 3/5 Follow @News18Movies for more<doc-sep>Netflix true crime thriller Dirty John has been compared to You and yeah, we can see it Not a fan of true crime? You're the only one, mate. Advertisement Also shit one to be you because essentially the only things that have been added to Netflix over the past year or so have been true crime based. Well, not all of them, but definitely most of them. It's a decent genre and it's been expelling some decent content as of late. We're here for it. Another thing that we're very here for is the series most recently added to the streaming platform's catalogue, Dirty John. Based on the entirely true story and excellent podcast of the same name, the series depicts a whirlwind romance, a cunning attractive man, and a woman who's willing to forgive a hell of a lot all in the name of, eh, love, we guess? The series stars Eric Bana as John Meehan and Connie Britton as Debra Newell. Advertisement It follows the couple as they fall in love, get married, move in together, and alienate all of Debra's children all within a solid one month or so timeframe - give or take. The story of Dirty John is so baffling, so confusing, and so genuinely shocking that you'd almost have trouble believing it if you didn't know that it had actually happened. Netflix compared the show to their other true crime hit, You, during the week when it finally dropped onto the streaming platform. According to them it differs, however, because John is "older." Advertisement But yeah, other than that we can see where they're coming from with all the stalking, lying, and murdering. Haven't watch it yet? Get on it.<doc-sep>
Dirty John Director - Jeffrey Reiner Cast - Connie Britton, Eric Bana, Juno Temple, Julia Garner Rating - 3/5 The most annoying thing about Dirty John, the hit true crime podcast, was its central character - Debra Newell. She’s obscenely rich, oddly naive, and almost childlike in her decision-making. None of that helps when you, the viewer, is trying to empathise with her, but can’t because most of the trouble she finds herself in is her own fault. It’s unfortunate then that the same cloying qualities have been transferred to Dirty John, the TV show adaptation, acquired for worldwide distribution by Netflix. What makes it worse is that Debra - at least towards the end of her horrible ordeal - appears to come to some sort of realisation about the stupidity of her actions. “I know it might make me look bad,” she tells Los Angeles Times reporter Christopher Goffard, whose soothing tones in the podcast tempered the most unbelievable aspects of Debra’s story. But Goffard’s voice of reason is missing from the show, which finds itself trying to dramatise some of the more subdued elements of the story with almost soap opera level sappiness. Watch the Dirty John trailer here Dirty John, the show, is a worthy but altogether unremarkably addition to the ‘trouble in paradise’ subgenre of TV thrillers that has become so popular these days. It’s nowhere near as perceptive (or entertaining) as HBO’s Big Little Lies, nor is it as thrilling as Broadchurch. But considering the incredible true story it’s playing with, and its knockout finale, it should have been. Debra (played by Connie Britton), who had been married and divorced four times already, met John Meehan (Eric Bana making a comeback) on a blind date and was immediately taken by his raw charm and gruff likability. He made her feel special and unlike the other guys she’d gone out with, listened to her attentively. The first date turned into a second, and then a third, and before Debra knew it, she was head over heels - much too quickly for her two daughters’ liking. Their suspicions were well founded. Through some DIY resourcefulness and professional sleuthing, Debra’s daughters, Veronica and Terra discover that John Meehan isn’t at all who he says he is. He has a history of being in and out of the slammer, of stalking women and violating restraining orders, and he’s being lying about being a doctor. The warmth he shows towards Debra is sharply contrasted by the iciness he has for her daughters and their family. Slowly and systematically, he turns Debra against them, having convinced her that they’re far too reliant on her and her wealth. And Debra falls for it. In less than two months of having known each other, they run off and get married. Without a prenup. Despite being warned. All this happens within the first couple of episodes - there are eight in total - which makes it very difficult, as reasonable people, to understand Debra’s motivations. She seems to be leading a fulfilling and rewarding life, running a successful business and fostering strong relationships with her family. So why did she feel the need to run off with a stranger? Was her desperation for companionship that dire? Of course, being a fact-based story there’s little that can be done to change the essence of the characters - certainly, Debra is relatively self-aware in the show, and even uses her questionable reputation to her favour in later episodes. Creator Alexandra Cunningham had more tools at her disposal than what Goffard had in the podcast; It’s another thing that the visuals are plain, and the dialogue clunky. There was a better opportunity to get under the skin of both John and Debra here, which is wasted in favour of a rather by-the-numbers TV drama, so old-school in its storytelling that it still inserts checkpoints for commercial breaks. But it’s difficult to resist the core of what the story is about, especially since the performances - especially Bana’s - are so compelling. John is at once weak and controlling, and in Debra he has found the perfect prey. It is a matter of great sadness that she isn’t the first to have fallen for his tricks. Dirty John may not be quite as gripping as the LA Times podcast, but it’s another step in the validation of a medium that is witnessing a golden age thanks to shows like Homecoming and Lore.