Criticism of the series ‘Crimes online’: culture, internet and apocalypse

Everything good and bad about human beings is on the Internet, as the restless writer and filmmaker Carlo Padial knows, accustomed to delving into the most absurd side of human beings. This peculiar multidisciplinary creator signs the direction of the six installments of the recommendable documentary series ‘Crimes Online’, released these days directly on Atresplayer on its Flooxer channel, designed for a young audience, although the issues that this curious production deals with may be of more interest to a tall audience that is unaware of some of the network’s operating mechanisms. The title of the proposal can be misleading.

Although it points to the ‘true crime’ format, so much in vogue lately, it uses the commonplaces of the genre with irony, with a luxury presenter, the all-terrain Samantha Hudson, one of the few newly minted celebrities with a speech. His insulting youth does not exempt him from having a cultivated mind and critical thinking, in addition to dancing, interpreting and conducting, in this case, a set of reports that dissect, from some alleged minor crimes, some examples of black holes in the wonderful -and disturbing- world of the Internet.

Sniffing around in the most remote corners of cyberspace is the leitmotif of the series. ‘Crímenes Online’ adopts ways of ‘docu crime’ with sarcasm, turns reference television titles such as ‘Investigation Team’ and its substitutes, providing information and reflections of interest with a grateful sense of humour. Hudson, as versatile as ever, works very well as a charismatic presenter of a feast of well-crafted documentation, with agile graphics and a current rhythm, squeezing the very language of the Internet -some memes are not lacking-, as Padial and his partner well know of fatigue Carlos de Diego. The latter, equally multifaceted, is in charge of the image and is also present in the script, as has been customary since both authors founded, among friends, the audiovisual production company Los Pioneros del Siglo XXI. With this project they perpetrated delirious pieces such as the fake television program ‘Go, Ibiza, Go!’, presented by the destroyer showman Didac Alcaraz, which they later took to the stage in all kinds of scenarios after going viral on YouTube.

Padial began as a scriptwriter and comic book artist -like his partner De Diego-, publishing titles such as ‘La Brasería’ by the publisher La Cúpula, responsible for the extinct (and mythical) magazine ‘El Víbora’. As a writer, he has published several books: ‘Free money’, ‘Erasmus, Orgasmus and other problems’ and ‘Doctor Portuondo’ (transferred to real image as a series within the Filmin catalogue). His debut as a long-form filmmaker was ‘Mi loco Erasmus’, which was followed by ‘Taller Capuchoc’, with the eccentric comedian Miguel Noguera as the protagonist. He premiered in theaters the iconoclastic ‘Something very fat’, with Berto Romero, produced by Grupo Zeta with the collaboration of Netflix. He is known for his viral pieces for online sites like Playground, where he delivers a corrosive critique of human behavior.

Its relationship with the Internet is obvious. He is a student of its iconography and background, so it is not surprising that a proposal as suggestive as ‘Crimes Online’, with an apocalyptic mood with a touch of surrealism, has fallen into his hands. Analyzing the most bizarre of the network in our borders is the task of a product that informs and entertains, moving away from the conventional. From the outset, they start from some real events, hilarious in themselves, always with a chilling aftertaste. In their first deliveries they dare to dive into Forocoches, the Iberian forum par excellence, where anything can happen -and the worst of cyberspace, according to statistics- comes together. Hudson, in the role of “volunteer reporter”, collects live testimonies from beings involved in the dark affair, the emotional scam or the urban legend propagated by the network. They do not remain mere talking heads. Meanwhile, the comments are illustrated by archive images, screenshots and captures of online stamps in movement that bring fluidity to the exhibition. It is interesting how they relate some popular themes and characters in the Internet community, some of whom have come down, broadening the portrait, with twists included, of a society that does not always use the tools to which it has access well. Technology is ahead of the individual.

Youtubers and cancellation

‘Crimes Online’ carries out one of the most entertaining and effective studies, for dummies, of the culture of cancellation, a booming phenomenon that is an ordeal for those who suffer it when manipulation and misinformation come into play. They start from the case of the writer María Frisa, victim of an unprecedented digital lynching. The episode dedicated to her case manages to reflect the anguish experienced by a person unfairly harassed in the Social Networks, a tragedy that can lead to suicide. Decontextualization is common in this situation. The chapter explains all the steps well. Envy and the desire for popularity, ultimately short-lived, lead some subjects to light torches. The networks are burning, especially on Twitter. But whoever plays with fire can get burned, as happened to Haplo Schaffer, a youtuber whose rise and fall is worthy of a deeper study.

Padial’s filmography also includes the estimable documentary ‘You are my movie’, an x-ray of the miseries of the youtuber phenomenon, of its protagonists and millions of followers, of the sensationalist media and of the cinematographic event itself. The protagonist is Ismael Prego, alias Wismichu, one of the most popular streamers in Spain among the youngest. The film, presented in its day at festivals such as Malaga, collects the viral scandal that the influencer caused in Sitges by sneaking a film that was not. The big joke, an endless looping sketch called ‘Bocadillo’, aroused likes and dislikes, giving wings to an army of feverish haters. In reality, it was the beginning of a greater challenge, a film that explores the functioning of social networks and the mass media, the exacerbated virality of nothingness and the culture of me, me and me (and let others look at me).

‘You are my movie’ connects with the spirit of ‘Crimes Online’. It proposes several levels of reading, a simple and effective one that shows us Wismichu in a complacent way, caressing him, as a friendly hagiography that hints at other realities behind the fame and warmth of thousands of followers, obsessed with taking a selfie with the star of the internet to show off on social networks, an exacerbated cult of personality that opens wide the doors of anthropological analysis. Beneath this bonfire of viral vanities, an x-ray of the miseries of the youtuber phenomenon festers. Topics that Padial, whose gaze penetrates the most unexpected corners of the soul, are extremely interested in, according to his career. The ashes of the burning allow us to collect data to understand the generational barrier between the recalcitrant consumer of old-fashioned audiovisual material and the dispersed Internet user addicted to multiscreen.