Watching The Jinx: Part 2 demands its audience look back — not just on the crimes of its subject, real estate tycoon turned notorious killer Robert Durst, but also on where we were when the first part aired on HBO. In February of 2015, filmmaker Andrew Jarecki had audiences at rapt attention as he unfurled week-by-week six chapters detailing the bizarre “Life and Deaths of Robert Durst.” That Durst had committed a string of murders seemed more and more certain as the episodes passed. Could his closeness with the documentarian, who’d piqued Durst’s interest by making a loosely fictional film about him called All Good Things, compel this slippery figure to finally confess? Incredibly, yes, and in a way that was as bizarre as “Bob” himself.
Beyond the burping, the hot mic recording that became a national news story, and the many parodies that followed, The Jinx became a modern true crime flashpoint, along with Netflix’s docuseries Making a Murderer and the podcast Serial. Each explored a cold case over a long-format deep dive, often with the reporter confessing to being compromised by their closeness to the accused. Sure, there were (and are) plenty of tawdry true crime shows that would continue to churn out cheap thrills for viewers, but these three shows were so massively popular that they spawned a flood of true crime doc series — for better (the in-depth and humane I’ll Be Gone in the Dark and Last Call) or worse (the leeringly exploitative The Curious Case of Natalia Grace and The Tiger King).
In the years since, true crime has continued to saturate the media, reaching a ubiquity that rivals the heights of London’s Jack the Ripper obsession; at the same time, the critique of true crime and its fans has grown sharper, as media critics and enthusiasts alike dissect it from all angles. Telling a good story may attract an audience, but how you go about it may earn filmmakers ire online, where TikTokkers and podcasters pick apart every bit of evidence — often for their own moments in the spotlight. When The Jinx arrived, of course we were shocked by Durst and his bizarre behavior on camera, but what was truly compelling was Jarecki’s willingness to show himself and his internal conflict as they approached the final interview. This added a layer of uneasy vulnerability to the show. Returning to the case to follow Durst’s capture and conviction, The Jinx: Part 2 continues on with “Chapter 7,” as if nine years hadn’t passed in the interim. The world has changed dramatically in this span, and yet Jarecki and his team are playing the same game as before. But now it hits differently, as they’re coming back with the perspective not of investigation but validation.
Robert Durst is the leader of The Jinx‘s 3-ring circus.
Credit: HBO/Max
In the original run, Jarecki spoke at length with friends and family of Durst’s missing first wife, Kathleen McCormack Durst, who gave a chilling portrait of their marriage. In Part 2, we finally get to meet more of Durst’s inner circle. Though Durst’s second wife Debrah Charatan once more dodges Jarecki’s interview requests, she’s depicted through strange anecdotes about how she allegedly ruled her company with an iron fist and a nose that’d literally sniff her employees’ armpits to assure they met her high hygiene standards. “Chapter 9: Saving My Tears Until It’s Official” dives deeper into the psychology — and potential complicity — of Durst’s best friend Susan Berman, who was conspicuously killed before she was interviewed by police over the McCormack case. Through these interviews, Jarecki empathetically explores Berman’s mindset, forged by growing up the daughter of a mob boss and a “saintly” mother; she was fiercely protective of the skeletons in the family’s closet. Plus, Berman’s friends face new evidence that transforms their perspective on her involvement with Durst.
However, it’s the new members of the menagerie who will likely have viewers agog. “Chapter 7: Why Are You Still Here?” introduces Bob’s mistress through a talking-head interview and recorded jail-house visits. A surly longtime colleague gives the cops a hard time over the phone, demanding the police pay for his private jet’s costs if they expect to interrogate him in Los Angeles. (He practically screams in outrage when they offer him a ticket to fly coach.) But the most attention is paid to Nick Chavin, who counts himself as a best friend to both Durst and the long-ago murdered Berman.
Chavin is introduced as he blithely paraphrases the opening line of Goodfellas, confessing with a grin, “For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be famous.” He then presents Jarecki (and us) with his music, a sexed-up version of country music that includes a track called “Cum Stains on the Pillow.” Yes, this man is a clown who — like Durst — relishes the attention Jarecki’s cameras can bring. And as was true of the first part, it is darkly compelling to watch such a kooky creep expose himself. You might wonder if Chavin has any self-awareness as he makes statements like “I don’t have that same moral hatred of murder and murderers.” You might also doubt his veracity, considering his motivations are so nakedly about fame. But he is far from the only cringeworthy character presented in Part 2.
The Jinx: Part 2 celebrates and mocks the LAPD.
Credit: HBO/Max
Chapter 7 centers on the weeks leading up to Chapter 6 airing in 2015. At the time, the show’s producers were sharing information with the the LAPD, who were tracking Bob Durst to finally charge him in the murder of Susan Berman before he might flee internationally. As the new episode proudly pronounces in a title card, Durst was arrested the day before the famous burping confession aired.
As this first episode details the process with LA attorneys and homicide detectives, The Jinx becomes blandly bog-standard for a stretch. Artful slo-mo reenactments and archival photos of Durst play under interviews spelling out the chase and anticipation. LA Deputy District Attorney John Lewin, who clearly sees himself as the hero of the sequel season, declares, “This is going to be the biggest thing to hit my office since OJ.” Where the officers of Part 1 tended to somber reflections, Lewin can’t contain his grin as he cockily exclaims, “I love circumstantial cold cases.” In “Chapter 8: Friendships Die Hard,” Lewin introduces his “wonder twins,” identical twin law clerks whose commentary is so farcical it’d be well suited to the 2017 true crime parody series Trial & Error.
The novelty of the twin law clerks Michael and David Belcher is emphasized by pairing them up for their interviews; they even share a chyron. Recalling how they got assigned the Durst case, Michael says he got a call from Lewin, and when the name “Durst” came up, the baby-faced clerk said, “Fred Durst? Oh my god!” (In response, the doc cuts to an image of the Limp Bizkit frontman wearing a t-shirt that reads “NOT ROBERT.”) After clearing up the confusion, Michael was offered a job, and in turn suggested they hire his twin too. So Lewin did. It’s a story that they all seem to regard as charming.
Like their boss, the duo shares a jarring breeziness about the case, cracking odd jokes and impersonating Durst’s nasally voice together in sync. Such interviews feel like a sideshow that exposes a glaring disconnect between the seriousness of the crimes and the arrogant attitudes of this prosecution team. The filmmakers seem eager to expose the ugly vanity of all arrogant fools, no matter what side of the law they are on. Yet at the same time, the first several episodes carry the enthusiasm of sharing in this victory lap. (Critics were given access to the first four episodes of Part 2 for review.) So one moment, you have the “wonder twins” revealing crucial evidentiary phone calls with all the reverence of pigeons over a new Porsche. But in another — among the most moving in the sequel series so far — Chapter 7 shows The Jinx team’s viewing party, where McCormack’s family finally hears the confession they’ve prayed for for decades: “Killed them all, of course.”
Here, like the exemplary HBO doc series Mind Over Murder and the mesmerizing movie Last Stop Larrimah, the outrageous details of the case are the hook for something deeply human. As this long-suffering family gets the release of this clumsy confession, we are witness to their world changing. It’s not the end of the McCormack family’s story, as her brother is quick to point out, but there is comfort in finally closing a terrible chapter. So, the pride that radiates from these newly issued episodes — while arguably gauche in their goofier moments — may be justified and may even be frankly honest.
The Jinx: Part 2 is hitting while true crime is in transition.
Credit: HBO/Max
The mid-2010s brought the genre out of the shadows and into the mainstream. And yet after so much popularity and praise, neither Making a Murderer nor Serial could top their first seasons. Instead, they came under scrutiny as many others chased such successes, not only in TV docs and podcasts but also in an avalanche of TV dramas and dramedies, ranging from When They See Us to Dahmer, The Staircase, Dirty John, Inventing Anna, Under the Banner of Heaven, Joe vs. Carole, and not one but two versions of the Candy Montgomery case: Candy and Love & Death. Serial was even parodied in the podcast-centered comedy series Only Murders in the Building. Meanwhile, HBO/Max/Investigation Discovery have offered an endless array of murder shows and documentaries, ranging from thoughtfully thorough (The Lady and the Dale) to absolutely cringeworthy (Mean Girls Murders, which opens every case with a cheeky quote from a teen comedy).
Amid all of this, there is outcry from audiences and advocates about the ethics of true crime. Some call for such media to focus more on the humanity of the victims, and less on glorifying the killer. Others note the racial bias that favors coverage of stories about white victims, ignoring many, many cases of murdered and missing Black and Indigenous people. Still others note there’s a fine line between exposure and exploitation, as filmmakers unearth traumatic and triggering experiences not only for those who agreed to be involved in their productions but also for those who’ve not consented to participate. So, where does The Jinx: Part 2 fit in this?
Frankly, it’s impossible to say without having seen how it’ll end. At present, I’m underwhelmed. Granted, true crime fans or those who were hooked on The Jinx will likely rally around the weekly chance to once again compare notes around the metaphorical watercooler. There’s a lot to take in and marvel over. Jarecki and his team have masterfully planted their new chapters with plenty to keep us coming back, from new revelations, unnerving interviews, and the promise of Durst giving one last statement on the case. But having binge-watched the first four episodes, the experience is disorienting.
Where should true crime go next?
Credit: HBO
As egos flash and clash, a few things have already become clear. First off, it takes a village to get away with murder, and The Jinx: Part 2 is here to introduce us to Durst’s villagers. Two, the series feels both in awe of its own power but also wary of it. Truly, there’s no way the producers could include the more embarrassing interview moments with the prosecution side without an awareness they are in league with them. Yet Durst’s defense team is so stringently slippery they are practically caricatures of corrupt lawyers. So, in this bid to show that both sides of this case are peopled by characters that are not just riveting but at times downright ghastly, what is The Jinx saying?
This possibly shows a self-awareness that no documentary can ever be truly “objective.” Maybe it’s intentionally drawing attention to the messiness of humanity that makes up every part of our legal system, from the crime to the investigation to the trial and beyond. We can aim to be as rational and objective as possible, but we’re all human. And while some of our motives might be noble, we’ve all got our less admirable motives too — like wanting your fifteen minutes of fame no matter how you get it. In Part 2, you see the fingerprints of this vanity throughout.
That commonality is what has me itching after these first four episodes. You can easily google and find out what happened next in the case, but what I’m curious about is how The Jinx: Part Two will process those events. In my mind, the best of true crime is not just telling us a riveting story, rich in complexity and character — though that’s a good start. It’s when a production pushes the audience past understanding the story merely as a cozy cautionary tale, instead examining how and why a crime happened and was investigated (or not, as the case may be), and what that says about society itself. (Again, see Last Call, Mind Over Murder, and the kidnapping doc Chowchilla.)
While it may be a cliche that money can buy an affluent American out of anything, both parts of the Jinx explore the specifics of this. Not only do they detail how Durst could swiftly lay down a quarter million in bail so he could go on the run again, but also they reveal in ways big and small how his perceived generosity (a car, a college education, a love nest) bought allegiances, whether the receiver consciously understood that or not. So, what does Durst’s long con have to say about American justice? What has his post-Jinx popularity — recapped in a spirited montage of comedy sketches, news coverage, and stand-up — say about out hunger for true crime stories? What will his final chapter say about who we were then? And who we are now?
Truly, I’m not sure how much of this Chapters 11 and 12 can or will answer. Having once defined this genre, could it now reinvigorate it, drawing it more rigorously to profound realizations and away from our tendency toward grisly gawking? Or might it interrogate our macabre interest to guide us to better understand our dark appetite? I can’t say. But despite my frustrations with this series veering into familiar areas and perplexing portraits, I confess I will be watching.
The Jinx: Part 2 kicks off with Chapter 7 premiering on April 21 at 10:00 p.m. ET/PT on HBO and will be available to stream on Max. A new episode will air each Sunday, until the finale on May 26.