This article contains discussion of subjects including sexual abuse that some readers may find upsetting.
There was a new addition to the Netflix true-crime catalogue back in June this year that generated extensive discussion online. Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey shines a light on the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), the most prominent offshoot of the Mormon church. The group has long been accused of facilitating child sexual abuse and the docuseries features accounts from several women who allege sex trafficking and child marriage is commonplace within the church. In 2011, a former leader of the faction Warren Jeffs was found guilty of sexually abusing two children, with myriad more allegations hanging over him.
The FLDS church would undoubtedly reject the claim that it’s a cult, but there’s an overwhelming consensus from those on the outside that the cap fits.
Fast-forward a couple of months to the arrival of Devil in Ohio, a Netflix limited-series adapted from Daria Polatin’s book of the same name, providing a fictional outing for many of the same themes that are also explored in Keep Sweet.
Netflix drama Devil in Ohio’s mistake with Mae’s character
At the centre of the thriller is Mae Dodd, a teenager who escapes the devil-worshipping cult in which she was born and raised after she is ordered to sacrifice herself to bring health and prosperity back to the group. Her father Malachi, the cult leader, is physically unwell and their crops are also dying, but Mae’s generous offering will stop the rot and save them.
Praise be, indeed.
But Mae, understandably, has no desire to die and as she becomes more ingrained in the family of psychiatrist Dr Suzanne Mathis, her will to not only survive but maintain her place in the Mathis household continues to grow, which leads us to the series’ troubling conclusion.
Mae is crowned Harvest Queen at the school dance but during her moment of glory, she’s presented with a bouquet of white roses, a symbol that triggers her deep-seated trauma, leaving her vulnerable to the power of the cult.
Jules, Suzanne’s middle daughter, recognises the threat but in the chaos that ensues, she loses sight of Mae, who swiftly winds up back in the belly of the beast where she’s prepped for slaughter. But it’s later revealed that there’s far more to that moment that initially meets the eye.
Just as Suzanne and Mae are about to tuck into their Thanksgiving dinner, the doctor receives a phone call from Detective Lopez, who delivers some chilling news.
“Mae set the whole thing up,” he says.
She was the one who replaced the red roses during the harvest dance before driving herself back to Amontown, where her mother Abigail sacrificed herself after the initial plan to offer up her daughter to the devil was scuppered. Following that, Malachi professed that the group has been “saved” from any further suffering and the cult scarpered under the cover of darkness, leaving Mae free to live her life as she chose, remaining firmly by Suzanne’s side.
While much of the dialogue in Devil in Ohio leaves little to the imagination, there are aspects of the series that are cloaked in ambiguity, one of which is the character of Mae.
She’s a victim of grotesque physical and emotional abuse – the pentagram on her back is the most overt indication of that – but even if she hadn’t been branded, her acute fear and anguish is palpable. Mae’s life in the cult was not her own but subject to the whims of Malachi, who decreed that his own child must die. His power was so absolute that no one, not even Mae’s mother, would object to the felling of her daughter. And yet, she’s framed as conniving, unhinged and dangerous.
We’re never quite sure what Mae is capable of and while moments of potential threat often fizzle out into nothing, that simmering menace is present throughout, suggesting a concerning link between trauma and madness.
When she’s carving up the deer that Peter kills on his hunt, or chopping ingredients for her harvest feast, you’re half-expecting a bloodbath at any moment. She appears without warning at the foot of Suzanne and Jules’ beds in the dead of night, and there’s the mirror scare when Mae’s reflection suddenly appears in Jules’ eye-line. Cue tense music.
On another occasion, Suzanne’s musical theatre-loving daughter Dani asks Mae if she’ll help her limber up, which she willingly agrees to. But the sisterly act quickly becomes another moment in which Mae is demonised.
Perhaps Devil in Ohio’s creatives would argue that it’s a reflection of how those around Mae perceive her, tapping into the deep-rooted fear of ‘the other’. They might say that being a victim doesn’t render you incapable of inflicting harm on those around you, or that Mae’s actions in the finale are simply indicative of the fight for survival at any cost, the most intrinsic of human behaviours. But the simmering menace that trails her throughout feels especially crass in a series that spends so much of its time concerned with the destabilising nature of abuse, both in relation to Mae and Suzanne. Having just listened to real-life accounts of abuse suffered within the confines of a cult in Keep Sweet, that feeling is heightened.
Mae should never have been used as a tool with which to play with the audience’s perceptions. By encouraging viewers to flit aggressively between sympathy and fear, it undermines the horrors she’s endured and dilutes what should have been a powerful depiction of one woman’s fight for survival and her transition into society.
The ongoing threat posed by the cult was enough to keep viewers on their toes, but by resorting to raising questions about Mae’s intentions, Devil in Ohio’s initial promise was dismantled by lazy storytelling
If you’ve been affected by any of the issues raised in this article, visit the Rape Crisis or Victim Support websites for support and information.
Devil in Ohio is streaming now on Netflix. Check out our lists of the best series on Netflix and the best movies on Netflix – or see what else is on with our TV Guide. Visit our Drama hub for all the latest news.
