Sweet Bobby: My Catfish Nightmare (2024) ****

If Netflix had secured the screenwriting skills of M. Night Shyamalan around the time of his breakout picture The Sixth Sense (1999) this would be close to the result. I know that Netflix had created a new sub-genre in true crime, in presenting unsolved mysteries that never get solved, not leaving the viewer irate and frustrated but in fact gulling them into wanting even more, kicking off a tsunami of podcast investigators picking over the story looking for potential leads.

Any subject dealing with internet scams or vulnerable woman dragged along in the wake of some clever male manipulator, usually losing a fortune on the way, usually struggles to maintain viewer interest. And, initially, that appears to be the case here. How often can we return to the weeping and wailing victim Kirat, a 31-year-old successful London radio presenter when her ordeal begins, without viewers throwing things at the screen and asking why didn’t she notice the obvious signs?

Well, for a start, much of the scam took place before such frauds entered public perception. Even so, no matter how desperate Kirat is to get married, have children and a settled family life, you’d think red flags would fly the minute her internet lover, the wealthy Bobby Jandu, has to go into a witness protection scheme after being shot during some do-goodery in Kenya. Hence, the legitimate-sounding reason why he can never post a photo of himself, just in case bad guys track him down.

And hey, he’s not entirely invisible. She can hear his voice, though it sounds suspiciously soft. But, hey, he’s got a good reason for that. He’s the king of good reasons.

He even has an explanation for why he got an old girlfriend pregnant. And soon Kirat’s snookering herself into forgiving him, even ending up sending him baby clothes for the new arrival, and he responds by posting photos of baby with the chosen attire.

But the deception just goes on and on – for eight years in fact. Any time she thinks she’s going out of her mind, her mother, fervently wishing for a happy ending, tries to keep the white wedding pot boiling. Her cousin Simran, who vouched for Bobby in the first place, is equally on hand to keep romance on track. And it helps justify her implicit confidence that she’s not being conned by the fact that he’s not bilking her for money. So it can’t be a fraud, can it?

Naturally, when Bobby does finally accede to her pleas and flies from New York to London, he finds other reasons to delay their meeting. When she loses all patience and turns up at his hotel, the reception has no record of such a guest. But, of course, still fearing for his life, he had told the hotel staff to deny his existence. However, by luck, she surmises that he’s in Brighton on the English south coast and heads there. She has his address, knocks on his door.

Bear in mind the entire movie has so far been seen entirely from Kirat’s point of view with only occasional intercessions by family or friends.

So the door of this house in Brighton opens. And we cut to Bobby. First time he’s appeared in person. He appears the genuine article. And says he doesn’t know her from Adam (or Eve, I guess). His wife of course is suspicious. Who’s this strange woman at my door?

And you think what else is the scam artist going to do but deny he’s ever met her?

But he turns out to be completely innocent – in legal terms a victim more than Kirat since it’s his identity that was stolen,

But who was the thief.

Step up someone imitating M. Night Shyamalan with one of the most devious twists you’ll ever come across.

The guilty party is – the cousin Simran.

So then like The Sixth Sense you’re feverishly backtracking, running the entire picture in your mind, to see where clues had been left.

But cousin Simran has been incredibly clever not so much in covering her tracks as being the one who invented the tracks in the first place, controlling the narrative from the outset. Even to the extent of the baby’s clothes. Simran knew already what the baby was wearing. She convinced Kirat to buy the same clothes and – voila – shows her a photo of the baby wearing said clothes.

If you’d run this as a movie the other way round, watching every step of Kirat’s torment but knowing Simran was behind it and wondering what she would do next and whether her victim would ever escape, you’d have the basis of a terrific suspenser.

Sting in the tail – police tells Kirat she has no legal case.

So. Wow.