OUR RATING:
Murder Most Comfortable
Let’s be honest here, nothing says “I’ve completely given up on humanity” quite like spending your precious free time listening to Keith Morrison detail how Susan from accounting bludgeoned her husband over an insurance policy. Yet here we are, millions of us, voluntarily filling our earbuds with tales of suburban betrayal and poorly executed cover-ups courtesy of the “Dateline” podcast. It’s like comfort food, if your comfort food happened to be cyanide-laced apple pie.
You know exactly what you’re getting with “Dateline”, that familiar formula we could recite in our sleep. Happy couple moves to quiet town. Neighbors describe them as “keeping to themselves.” Cut to police tape, a sheet-covered body, and suddenly those neighbors have plenty to say about the “strange noises” they definitely never mentioned before. The podcast version delivers this tried-and-true recipe straight to your cerebral cortex without the distraction of having to look at recreated crime scenes or Keith Morrison leaning pensively against random objects.
Speaking of Keith Morrison, the man could narrate my own murder and I’d somehow be okay with it. His voice exists in that perfect sweet spot between “trusted grandfather” and “slightly amused observer of human depravity.” When he says things like “But Sharon didn’t know what was waiting for her in the garage,” you want to yell “DON’T GO IN THERE, SHARON!” But you don’t, because deep down, you know Sharon’s inevitable demise is the whole reason you’re listening to this thing in the first place. What does that say about us? Nothing good.
The most depressing part isn’t even the endless parade of spouses killing each other for surprisingly small insurance payouts. It’s how predictable we all are. The detectives always find their smoking gun in the same places,. cell phone records, suspicious Google searches like “how to get away with murder” (seriously, people?), or a gas station security camera that manages to capture the perp’s license plate with surprising clarity. You’d think potential murderers would at least listen to “Dateline” to learn what NOT to do, but apparently criminal masterminds are in short supply these days.
The interviews with family members always follow the same crushing trajectory. “We just want justice for [insert victim’s name].” Cut to three years later when justice comes in the form of a plea deal for 25 years instead of life, and suddenly everyone is disappointed but resigned. The system works just well enough to get a conviction but poorly enough to leave everyone feeling vaguely unsatisfied, much like a fast-food burger or America’s two-party political system.
Even more disturbing is how easily the “Dateline” formula slides into your weekly routine. Monday: therapy. Tuesday: book club. Wednesday: listen to detailed accounts of strangulation while doing meal prep. We’ve normalized consuming true human tragedy as entertainment to the point where discussing last week’s episode about a triple homicide has the same emotional weight as chatting about “The Bachelor.” If aliens are watching us, they’re definitely not sending their diplomats our way anytime soon.
The podcast version does strip away all the melodramatic music and shadowy reenactments, leaving you with nothing but the cold, hard facts and Keith Morrison’s dulcet tones. This somehow makes it worse, as you can no longer blame the cinematic presentation for your morbid fascination. Nope, it’s just you, your earbuds, and the dark realization that you find other people’s worst days absolutely riveting entertainment. Sleep tight with that knowledge.
Let’s not forget the occasional “twist” episodes where the obvious suspect didn’t do it! These rare gems exist solely to keep us on our toes and maintain the illusion that we’re engaging in sophisticated crime analysis rather than ghoulish rubbernecking. “I knew the husband was innocent all along,” you’ll lie to yourself, despite spending the first forty minutes texting your friend about what a psychopath he clearly was. We’re all amateur detectives until we’re wrong, at which point we conveniently develop amnesia about our previous theories.
In the end, the “Dateline” podcast succeeds not because it’s groundbreaking or insightful, but because it confirms what we all secretly suspect: that ordinary life is just one bad day away from becoming extraordinary tragedy, that the person sleeping next to you could have a secret life, and that none of us are as safe as we pretend to be. And somehow, that’s the content we choose to fall asleep to. Sweet dreams, everyone.
Where to listen to Dateline
Episodes.fm | Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Overcast | Pocket Casts | Castro
Discover the best episodes of Dateline