Even now, Scottish writer, actor, and comedian Richard Gadd has trouble comprehending the degree to which Baby Reindeer became an overnight worldwide obsession. Almost immediately after its April release, his riveting autobiographical drama — which chronicles the unhealthy relationship between a struggling, traumatized comedian and his unrelenting stalker — caught fire, burning up the viewing charts as it amassed an ever-expanding global audience and universal critical acclaim. “It’s overwhelming,” says Gadd of the reception. “I really believed in the show, and I thought that it would be liked, but to this scale? I never thought [that would happen]. It’s such a niche story, yet it’s struck a chord with so many people. 
I almost can’t bottle it into an emotion.”

Indeed, it’s hard to overstate the emotional fervor Baby Reindeer has generated among fans — Gadd’s deeply personal passion project has been praised by everyone from Stephen King to John Cena — but it’s easy to see why the series has left such an indelible imprint on everyone who’s watched it. Gadd brings empathy and humor to the darkest corners of the story, in which he plays down-on-his-luck Donny Dunn, a comedian harassed by the deeply lonely Martha (Jessica Gunning) at the same time he’s attempting to begin a relationship with a vibrant transgender woman named Teri (Nava Mau) and come to grips with buried personal trauma.

Gadd adapted Baby Reindeer from his lauded one-man stage production of the same name, which he’d premiered at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2019 and went on to perform Off West End at the Bush Theatre (winning an Olivier Award for Outstanding Achievement in an Affiliate Theatre), then during a West End production at the Ambassadors Theatre, as well as at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in New York. But the series wasn’t Gadd’s first brush with theatrical success. He initially burst onto the Fringe Fest scene with 2016’s prizewinning Monkey See Monkey Do, in which Gadd runs on a treadmill, fleeing from a man in a gorilla suit as he describes his real-life experiences of being groomed and assaulted by a male mentor.

Unconventional yet riveting, Gadd’s award-winning shows elevated his public profile, launching the comedian into a new phase of his career and helping him land roles on British television and writing gigs that include an episode of the Netflix comedy Sex Education. “The level of public acceptance I got and the understanding around [my story] was healing,” he says. “It was the start of my career in a way, but it was also the start of getting better.”

Clearly, Baby Reindeer represents the next massive leap forward in Gadd’s remarkable creative and personal journey.

An edited version of the conversation follows.

Richard Gadd

Krista Smith: What was it like for you to reinvent this one-man play, that was just you onstage performing for an audience, and transform it into a fully layered seven-episode miniseries?

Richard Gadd: It was a real challenge. [The play] Baby Reindeer was a very stripped-back production. There was a lot of projected light and stuff, but it was just me telling the story really, “And then Martha did this, then she did this . . . ” I was very fond of the play, and I didn’t want to dent its memory in any way. It was written like a sort of adrenalized gasp. It seemed to throw you through the action, and that’s what I really wanted to bring to the show — this kind of breathlessness. [Working on the limited series], I did hundreds of drafts of each script. I didn’t really find the show until Episode 4. I remember a moment of, Oh, I think I’m capturing the tone of this now. I understand what this is — the kind of weird humor mixed with the darkness. I kept the honest storytelling through the use of voice-over, and I made sure I kept the pace and the kind of breathless nature of it as well.

That fourth episode is especially disturbing — it’s honest and raw and recounts your experience with your abuser. How did you prepare to essentially relive these very intense scenes as an actor, while also serving as Baby Reindeer’s creator and executive producer and working with the directors and the crew? How did you pace yourself through that?

RG: I mean, I’m not sure I did. I sort of let it consume me, even from the writing process. I knew I had to give it everything, so I threw myself into the role. I lost loads of weight to do it. I really wanted to capture the brokenness that I felt at the time. I wanted to feel what I felt back then, so I did a lot of quite painful psychological recall and tried to get my body into a place where I felt vulnerable — all the while managing hectic schedules and creative discussions, which can be long and difficult. It was very intense, but sometimes you have to go through that stuff to hopefully get to a place where something’s quite good.

The performances in this are amazing across the board. Tell me about casting Jessica Gunning as Martha and Nava Mau as Teri.

RG: I can’t fault anything [Gunning] did on camera. There’s not a single line that she said that I’d want differently, not a single emotion that she shows that I would want a bit more of or a bit less of. The whole show hinged on Martha, really. To be able to be scary and at times malevolent, but at the same time really sweet and really empathetic — it’s a real acting challenge and Jess just got it. 

Nava, too, was fantastic. She had this ability to chide Donny while still being very likable and still being very sparky. I remember we flew her over [from the U.S. for] a chemistry read, and she absolutely smashed it. She threw herself into it, and she was a joy. I was blessed with the whole cast really. I have to always throw some compliments to Tom Goodman-Hill who plays [Donny’s abuser] Darrien, because those scenes were tough, and he was so patient and gentle.

Richard Gadd

Richard Gadd

Going back to the early days of your interest in a career in the arts, 
what was the spark for you that made you want to become a writer and comedian? 

RG: I was cast as Macbeth in the school play. I was 16 at the time, maybe. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I remember being onstage and just thinking, I have to give this a shot. It’s electric. I went home and told my parents I wanted to act and perform and I could see the fear in their eyes, but they were actually supportive. They never, ever said no. I do think that’s the biggest gift a parent can give a child — never saying no, letting them be what they want to be in any respect. Then I went off to university. I wrote plays, and I discovered comedy. When shows like the U.K. [version of] The Office came out, I was obsessed with it. I was like, That’s the dream now. The dream is to write and perform in a show and be the lead. And that was what Baby Reindeer turned out to be.

Baby Reindeer deals with abuse similar to what you suffered in the past, and you openly dealt with that trauma in Monkey See Monkey Do. Why was that important for you to discuss onstage?

RG: I used to do quite anarchic stuff, quite punk and in-your-face, but I was [carrying] this big secret. I could no longer go onstage with silly props and silly gags because my past was catching up with me and what I’d been through was so difficult. My life was existing in this impossible juxtaposition — I just couldn’t exist trying to be the funnyman anymore when I’d been through all these things. So, I decided to do a show about it. I remember thinking, God, this is high-stakes stuff. I’ve been sexually abused — that’s bad enough. The last thing I need is to make a crappy show out of it. I couldn’t have imagined that it would explode in the way that it did. It actually did go on to win the Edinburgh Comedy Award, this weird, dark show about abuse and me running on a treadmill. It’s funny how life works.

Baby Reindeer has been watched by millions of people. Is there anything you would like audiences to take away from the miniseries? 

RG: I like to let people make up their own minds with the work. I like leaving it ambiguous that way. Artists can sometimes be a bit too on the nose and a bit too clear in their aims. I think what Baby Reindeer does is it shows a human experience . . . and that’s what’s powerful about it.