Arden is a serialized audio fiction about two radio journalists, Bea and Brenda, trying to solve the case of Julie Capsom, a starlet who mysteriously disappeared after a car crash. While there’s been a slew of true crime parodies–The Onion’s A Very Fatal Murder comes to mind–Arden is the first that feels genuinely astute, genuinely subversive, and genuinely intriguing along with its humor.

In its first episode, Arden (which is also a modern retelling of a Shakespeare play, if you listen closely) asserts that while it pays homage to the podcasts before it in both true crime and audio fiction, it plans on subverting much of what they do. Initially, this subversion comes from the interplay and expectations of audio fiction as sort of “found audio”: many audio fictions give a reason to exist in audio, usually being that the protagonist is part of an investigative journalism team on the radio. Here, that seems to be the same case–the protagonists are working on their true crime podcast–but it’s quickly shown that the story will follow them into their unedited, off-mic bickering. Arden isn’t a story told with a framing device of a true crime podcast; it’s an audio fiction with no framing device in which the protagonists happen to also be recording a true crime podcast.

This move accomplishes several things: foremost, it’s a witty parody of the framing device so popular in the medium, but additionally, it’s a brilliant way to humanize these characters more than they’d be able to if the characters were still on mic. This added characterization is key to Arden‘s success, because it marks the true conflict in the story. In Arden, the conflict isn’t just solving the mystery of what happened to Julie Capsom. It’s also in the schism between ethical journalism and pop consumer media.

Bea and Brenda are classic foils, and the way they contrast is allegorical to the current state of journalism. After the boom of Serial followed by the critical reception of S-Town, journalism and true crime have slowly become intertwined, even if they aren’t necessarily the same thing. The journalist who becomes a self-made detective is as common in true crime as the obtrusive sponsors and personal interjections are. True crime is entertaining media, and Arden personifies these tendencies with Brenda, the borderline hedonistic detective who’s added to the podcast when it needs more flair. Bea, meanwhile, is a to-the-books journalist who stays firmly in reality and consistently criticizes the way Brenda handles the case. Early on, Bea tries to push back on Brenda’s sensationalism, saying they need to stay to the facts. Brenda replies, “That’s not what people wanna hear. They want action, excitement, suspense–they want results.”

This comes through not just in the way that Brenda treats the case but also in some of the structural aspects of the podcast. Early on, the in-podcast broadcast is bought by their sponsor, Wheyface Industries, much to Bea’s disappointment. The ad reads are fictionalized and over-the-top but clear parodies of common podcast sponsors–and while they’re over-the-top, they’re not necessarily inaccurate. Each episode is also framed as an accusation for who, or what, could have committed the crime, with episode titles ranging from “Shoddy Police Work Did It” to “The Skunk Ape Did It” to “Nobody Did Anything.”

But Arden isn’t just a parody that makes fun of true crime; it’s also an homage to the medium that crafts its own riveting story. It’s less Scary Movie and more Kingsman: The Secret Service, pulling on tropes and making them hyperboles while also weaving its own fascinating narrative. While listening, you find yourself siding with some of the theories, but also wanting Bea and Brenda to work together, to make some sort of headway on the case. As the podcast continues, the narrative feels at times like it’s going to steer more into absurdity, it usually winds up steering more into being a thoughtful, sometimes moving story.

Arden is a parody, an homage, a criticism, a love letter–and also its own full, incredible narrative, solidified by rich sound design and incredible performances throughout. The writing is light on its feet with dialogue but rich in purpose and storytelling. The way it balances humor, characters that verge on allegorical, and its own plot is a note parodies or pastiches of any medium should be taking notes on.

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