Lucan review – stick with this wild documentary to the end and you will be astonished
Richard John Bingham, the 7th Earl of Lucan, was officially declared dead in 1999. However, this didn't stop the ongoing and lucrative speculation surrounding his life and disappearance. This interest began back in 1974, after he killed Sandra Rivett, the nanny of his children, and then vanished without a trace.
At first, you might assume that this three-part documentary will just add to the list of conspiracy theories. However, it's not really about the question of whether we've found him. I can't stress enough how important it is to watch it all the way through. The journey is both touching and unsettling, taking some surprising turns. You'll encounter a phony monk, online deception, drag queens, and Timothy Leary. This perspective on the Lord Lucan story is likely something you haven't encountered before.
The first episode is quite clear in its message. Filmmaker Colette Camden presents a fresh perspective on the events of November 7, 1974. She introduces Neil Berriman, a builder from Hampshire, who believes he has located Lucan. It's worth noting that some argue Berriman, rather than Lucan, is the true focus of this series. Berriman, who was adopted by his mother, recalls her mentioning a “brown envelope” that held details about his biological parents. For many years, he had no interest in searching for it, but when he finally decided to open it, he was taken aback to discover newspaper articles about one of Britain’s most infamous crimes of the 20th century. The envelope revealed that his birth mother was Rivett, the caregiver who was brutally murdered by Lucan shortly after he took on that role.
Like many contemporary documentaries, especially one featuring Rivett's son, the focus of the narrative moves away from the sensational antics of the so-called "fugitive Lord" – a reckless gambler and heavy drinker, humorously nicknamed "Lucky" by his friends – to center on the 29-year-old woman whose life he took, the justice he escaped, and the impact of this brutal act on those who remain.
Berriman is dedicated to uncovering all the details about the case, which appears to worry his family. In the first episode, he shares what he has found so far. The episode includes interviews with individuals who were familiar with Rivett and Lucan, as well as those who were present at the crime scene. It also features insights from others like Berriman, who have chosen to concentrate on the investigation, though they don't share the same personal connection to it.
This is where the series really picks up momentum and takes off in a new direction. Berriman has dedicated years to collaborating with investigative journalist Glen Campbell, who has covered the case in great detail (and even named his dog Lucan). Together, they have explored numerous theories and followed up on various sightings. The film follows them as they set out to meet a man in Australia whom they believe is the aristocrat they’ve been searching for.
Taking a closer look at this reveals that we, the audience, don’t get to see or hear many of the supporting details: a confidential police document that could endanger the individual who shared it and a remark made off-camera by Lucan’s brother. Many people are expressing disbelief. Frequently, it’s hard to discern what’s factual and what those involved in this narrative are inclined to believe. However, it's evident that some of these men will go to great lengths to excuse a friend who committed the horrific act of murdering a woman—a troublingly small yet sobering detail.
Rather than being a detailed investigation, this piece serves more as a compassionate depiction of human obsession. Camden clearly has a deep appreciation for Berriman, and her role in the narrative becomes increasingly significant as the series unfolds. I couldn’t help but recall Janet Malcolm's iconic exploration of journalism, The Journalist and the Murderer, which examines the ethical complexities between reporters and their subjects. This made me question how much this documentary navigates uncertain territory. The show allows Berriman (and, implicitly, Rivett) to express themselves – and it's difficult to argue that they don't deserve that opportunity.
As Lucan hurtles toward its bizarre conclusion, you'll find yourself both amazed and uncomfortable about the individuals swept up in the chaos. This remarkable documentary sticks with you and raises far more questions than just whether Lucan survived past 1974.
