The Pitch: Darby Hart (Emma Corrin), thanks to being raised by a coroner, knows an awful lot about death, and how it’s investigated. She’s also a skilled computer hacker and a newly-published author of a true-crime book, and it’s at least one of those talents which leads to her receiving an out-of-the-blue invite from world-renowned tech mogul Andy Ronson (Clive Owen) and his legendary hacker wife Lee (Brit Marling), to attend an intimate retreat in Iceland with other thought leaders from various fields.
The guest list includes a filmmaker (Jermaine Fowler), a former astronaut (Alice Braga), and Bill (Harris Dickinson), a tech-minded artist who Darby knew as a teenager, when the two of them connected online to investigate the murders at the center of Darby’s book. Despite the gorgeous luxury of the eco-friendly hotel where Ronson’s guests have gathered, things start off awkwardly and only get more awkward when (as you might guess from the title) a mysterious death occurs. Thanks to a lifetime of experience, Darby’s the perfect person to solve it — but is it the answer as simple as whodunnit?
Everyone’s a Suspect: What’s fascinating about A Murder at the End of the World from the start is that everything about its basic premise feels like a pretty conventional murder mystery, one firmly in the tradition of classic storytellers like Agatha Christie. Yet it’s the work of The OA creators Zal Batmanglij and Brit Marling, two iconoclastic writer/directors whose past work could hardly be described as conventional, and that’s reflected in every beat of the execution.
Split at times almost equally between the present day and flashbacks to Darby and Bill investigating the original mystery that brought them together, the series leans heavily on the austere scenery of Iceland as well as the arid Midwest to express a chilly vibe — the exact opposite of a cozy Christie mystery in tone. However, that doesn’t prevent the development of real human emotion throughout, though primarily through Darby’s own awkward eyes; an early scene between Darby and Bill set to Annie Lennox’s “No More ‘I Love You’s'” sets up an entire love story without any actual dialogue.
There are a number of Big Ideas woven throughout the series, like a fascination with generative AI that can’t help but feel about six months out of date (not necessarily Marling and Batmanglij’s fault, except for them not being able to predict just how fast that technology would advance), and a deep fear of climate-related terrors to come (which, depressingly enough, feels all too relevant and accurate today).
The presence of these Big Ideas, in contrast to the more prosaic question of who the murderer might be, at times feels like an effort to elevate the narrative. However, those Big Ideas aren’t the show’s most compelling element. Instead, it’s a master class in detail-rich storytelling, lush cinematography and sharp editing coming together to use one of pop culture’s most commercial genres to play with audience expectations, while never losing sight of some fascinating characters.