The Sinner Season 3 Review – The psychology of murder

This The Sinner Season 3 review contains minor spoilers…

The Sinner is a self-indulgent show – just as protagonist Detective Harry Ambrose (Bill Pullman) tells this season’s enigmatic suspect Jamie Burns (Matt Bomer) as he slips into one of his many depressing and wannabe-profound monologues. That isn’t to say it’s bad – far from it, in fact. You simply have to get past its immoderate use of philosophical lecture. Supported by complex and psychological characters, underneath is a captivating mystery.

This season focuses on Jamie, a teacher whose life is turned upside down with the surprise reappearance of his college friend, Nick (Chris Messina), and his involvement in Nick’s suspicious death. The mystery surrounding the two is fascinating from the outset, with the chemistry between Messina and Bomer effectively carrying the enigma. From the instant they appear on screen together, there’s an electricity between them. Jamie’s pregnant wife, Leela (Parisa Fitz-Henley), jokes about them sharing a gay romance in college, which was my immediate suspicion. As it turns out, their love for each other isn’t sexual but ambivalent, one built entirely on trust and a shared deviant understanding of the world.

The secret between they share, and the motivation behind their relationship, defied expectation. It’s not simply a murder, or some other criminal past, as you might surmise. The mystery is in understanding them and their motivations. It’s a psychological thrill ride. Unfortunately, Jamie’s underlying motivation to latch onto Nick isn’t entirely well explored. Flashbacks clarify how they came to be friends, but only fleeting references are made to Jamie’s upbringing. Further exploration might’ve better explained his loneliness and indirection.

Emma, Jamie’s student whom he tries to dissuade from going to college as an act of non- conformity, offers the best glimpse into his backstory. The constant theme between the two is Jamie supplanting his own thoughts and perspective onto Emma. Their dialogue often consists of Jamie explaining he understands how lost and alone she feels. Despite this, she never really indicates as such. The profundity Jamie levels at her is so intense it borders on ridiculous, almost comedic, illustrating his slide into delusion. Their final scene together triumphantly encapsulates this delusional, one-sided relationship.

Portrayed excellently by Pullman, Detective Ambrose is again the only returning character from previous seasons. His ability to demonstrate Ambrose’s positively motivated yet questionable manipulation of others is superb. I believed Jamie to be the master manipulator, but it was Ambrose who had lured Jamie into a false sense of mutual trust. This exploitation of Jamie perfectly captured Ambrose’s genius as a detective who (falsely) seems to be losing his grasp. It’s a fascinating basis for their relationship, even if it is a deliberate misdirection. Ambrose’s efforts to extract a confession from Jamie, however, let down his genius. His methods were in direct contradiction of his policing experience. It was clear that his actions would put into question any subsequent evidence or confession and was something that couldn’t be reconciled with the character. This was unbelievable and made for frustrating viewing.

It was sometimes difficult to understand Ambrose’s fixation with Jamie, too. Principally because Jamie could often be so unlikeable. His tendency to devolve into tiresome droning about the meaning of life, death, depression and loneliness was frustrating to listen to from someone who has clearly had a degree of privilege. Sometimes I found myself wondering what exactly he had to complain about. Ironically, Leela echoed this sentiment in a verbal smack-down when, during one of his rants, she told Jamie that her grandfather, who hauled concrete for a living in Jamaica, didn’t have time to dwell on such philosophical problems. Having a character make a point of this in an act of self-awareness only validated my feelings.

The supporting characters weren’t particularly strong, either. Leela didn’t have much to do outside of being a worried wife and, except for her one show of strength, was feeble in comparison to Jamie. Whatever meaning she had in Jamie’s life was rendered mute as soon as Nick showed up which confused his later desire to reconcile. Ambrose’s daughter was another female stereotype – the overbearing mother – getting in the way of Ambrose’s relationship with his grandson, Eli. Her limited, Skylar White-esque role seemed to serve only in creating drama for the climatic episode. Portrayed as the rag-doll child and positioned wherever needed to serve the plot, Eli was an outdated trope, too. The early sub-plot around his reclusiveness went unresolved. And, most notably, in the final episode, Ambrose seemed to care as little about him as the writers evidently did.

Often bogged down in the weight of its own over-egged themes, The Sinner is imperfect. That said, the mystery and central plot is incredibly compelling especially with such a strong leading cast. Its ability to build tension and subvert your expectations is one to revere. It keeps you on the edge of your seat but then makes you question why you were there in the first place. Sometimes characters do what they say they’re going to do; sometimes they don’t. Either way, it’s always a surprise – but not without reason. There’s a darkness here creating a lasting sense of dread that permeates from one scene to the next. It’s often difficult to stomach but always engaging – like an accident you can’t look away from.

It’s a show I need to see more of – if only for the outstanding Detective Ambrose.

Score: 8/10

The Sinner is now streaming on Netflix in the UK.

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Featured Image Credit: NBCUniversal