Who died, and who did the killing?
That’s the central mystery of “Big Little Lies,” HBO’s limited series based on Liane Moriarty’s novel of the same name. But like the book, the show does not bask in that single question. It asks so, so many. Like, why does Madeline (Reese Witherspoon) drive a Buick? How much does it cost for Renata (Laura Dern) to clean the windows of her glass house, from which she’s always throwing stones? Is there a cannibal at the Otter Bay School? And if so, is it Perry (Alexander Skarsgård), secretly reprising his “True Blood” role for that maximum HBO synergy? There is, however, one question that trumps them all: How does six-year-old Chloe (Darby Camp) have such deep, varied taste in music? And what does it mean?
Chloe’s taste in music is not a minor aspect of her character—it defines her. We’re supposed to recognize that early on in the show, when she says to classmate Ziggy (Iain Armitage), “When I grow up, I want to run a massive label.” This girl is a mogul in the making. She’s not thinking of limited runs of hissing cassettes—she’s dreaming of Grammys. Hell, she’s wearing Apple earbuds around her neck in numerous scenes, including the opening credits.
In both the book and the series, Chloe is first introduced via musical circumstances. In the book, she puts her mother in her place for bad taste, after Madeline starts ad-lib mom-rapping on the way to school orientation. Meanwhile, the show introduces Chloe by way of her car-stereo domination, blasting PJ Harvey’s “The Wind” on the way to that same orientation. Basic NorCal mom Madeline—whose Fleetwood Mac knowledge extends to Rumours and whose favorite Neil Young song, we’re safe to assume based on the show’s syncs, is “Harvest Moon”—is obviously not the hip influencer responsible for her first-grader’s exquisite taste, and so she asks Chloe to turn Polly Jean down. For what?
It can’t be a fluke on the part of the show’s creators that Chloe’s soundtrack picks are so spot-on. When she listens to Charles Bradley’s “Heartaches & Pain” before school, she’s steeling herself for the day ahead. Her choice of Janis Joplin’s version of “Ball and Chain,” a song that tells of a woman staring out a window while bummed out about love, is basically the arc of Madeline’s romantic life. She knows how to comfort her mother, too, which we see when she uploads Alabama Shakes’ “This Feeling” onto Madeline’s phone after Abigail (Kathryn Newton), Madeline’s oldest daughter and Chloe’s step-sister, decides to move in with her father, Nathan (James Tupper). And the folksy yearning of Villagers’ “Nothing Arrived” is certainly suited for consoling her mother after she gets into a car accident, then has to lie about why she was in the car in the first place.
“Big Little Lies” music supervisor Sue Jacobs has done some press since the show began airing last month, and she commented on Chloe’s taste—but only in a way that justifies it as an emotional signifier. “It’s all about tension, the whole push and pull of all of the music as a counterpoint,” she told Vulture. “That’s why Chloe is always carrying an iPod.”
But nobody has asked Jacobs, or show creator David E. Kelley, or director Jean-Marc Vallée, who is apparently quite involved in the music selection, what it means that Chloe—a child in an affluent community, under the watchful shadow of a squadron of helicopter moms—has such extensive cultural savvy on her own. It serves the feeling of the show, but how does it serve the plot?
There are plenty of ways Chloe’s taste could be explained away. She could be the new, music-focused Tavi Gevinson. She could be Father John Misty’s ghostwriter. She could be a cyborg that her computer engineer dad Ed (Adam Scott) created and had programmed with Bob Boilen’s taste, to serve as a distraction from the emptiness that Madeline and her mom-friends now feel. Or, it could be something bigger than that. Something more* sinister.*
In both its book and TV forms, “Big Little Lies” is not about how children are at the whims of their parents, but about how the parents are at the whims of their children. Playdates, birthday parties, Disney on Ice? The kids are in complete control. The domestic war that serves as the crux of the story is even catalyzed by Madeline’s annoyance with a teenager who was texting while driving. If Madeline had never confronted that texter, she would’ve never twisted her ankle in the middle of the road. And Jane (Shailene Woodley) would have never stopped to help Madeline if her son, Ziggy, hadn’t suggested it. This created the bond that cracked a rift in the Monterey mothers community and would, we’re to assume, lead to somebody’s death. These core women (and their respective husbands) are each like that CGI cow in Twister, swirling around in a natural storm over which they have no control. Most of these kids, the ones causing the storm? They have no idea how in control they are. Chloe, on the other hand, does.
It’s important to note that the TV show does diverge from the book in a few ways. In the book, for instance, the events are set in Sydney, Ziggy is named after Ziggy Marley rather than Ziggy Stardust, and parents are shamed for sending their children to school with sausage rolls. Because of these and more differences, we can’t assume that the answer to the central question—who died, and who did the killing—will be the same in both stories. In fact, HBO has plenty of reason to switch it up, just so fans of the book have reason to continue. This is why we feel the freedom to posit here the theory to end all theories, which is that Chloe is not only a musical savant, but also the killer.
Well, not exactly the killer, but the one who sets the killing in motion. Chloe’s understanding of human emotionality and music’s powers over it are clear from the moment she tries to use Leon Bridge’s “The River” to purify some bad blood between two classmates, Ziggy and Amabella (Ivy George). She knows that a certain song will elicit a certain emotion, whether it be fury, love, or empathy. She also knows that her father is keen on performing an Elvis song at the upcoming Presley and Audrey Hepburn-themed fundraiser for her school, where—as episode one reveals—the killing takes place. The only other thing we know about that strange event? That Ed will be performing “Pocketful of Rainbows,” the 1960 Presley song that Chloe suggests to her father over the far more obvious “Suspicious Minds.” Ed points out that the song isn’t listed among the karaoke options, and Chloe replies with a self-assured “exactly.” She knows what she’s doing: she’s choosing a song that will incite Ed to commit a rage-fueled killing.
Here’s how we picture it going down: “Mister Heartache/I've found a way to make him leave,” Ed sings, possessed in his rhinestoned suit by the need to disappear his own mister heartache: Nathan, who never seemed out of Madeline’s heart completely. “No more heartaches/Now that I've found a love so true,” Ed croons, gyrating toward Nathan. Nathan is talking to Bonnie (Zoë Kravitz), his young new wife, as Madeline emerges fresh from the bathroom. She stares at the two of them, grimacing as Nathan’s hand grazes Bonnie’s ass. Her face transforms, though, as she sees Ed. He walks through a ribbon of light reflected from one of several Swarovski disco balls and the two smile at each other. For a moment, she is happy.
Ed closes in on Nathan from behind. He thrusts his rhinestoned belt into Nathan’s rhinestone belt and reaches under his own rented white cape into his waistband, grabbing hold of the ivory handle of his great-grandfather’s hunting knife. “Got a pocketful of rainbows,” he whispers into Nathan’s ear, before grabbing him around the throat. “And an armful of you.”
He stabs Nathan in the gut. Nathan clings to Bonnie’s necklace as he falls to the ground, pearls showering down around him. Madeline rushes over but as her stiletto kisses a pearl she is sent toppling. The backing track for “Pocketful of Rainbows” cuts out. Ed is dazed as he looks down and sees his hand painted red with Nathan’s blood. He runs outside to find Chloe sitting on a rock overlooking the beach. We see a close-up of her, the secret mastermind. She’s wearing earbuds and crying, but we can’t hear the song this time—just the ocean. She would never have forgiven Nathan for taking Abigail from her. Things would be back to normal now. They’d all live together again.
Fade to black.
