Did Rita De Crescenzo Deserve a Docuseries? In short, no. But the market is the market

Today it was announced that Rita De Crescenzo will be the star of an upcoming Netflix docuseries. The confirmation came from the Neapolitan TikToker herself, who announced it on social media in triumphant tones, describing it as a dream come true. The rumour had been broken days earlier by Giuseppe Candela in the pages of Chi, with the added detail that production company Banijay had already reached an agreement with the influencer on a project set to chronicle her life, her rise on social media, and the numerous controversies that have followed her.

The final details are still missing, of course (including a release date), but the news is now official. And already online there are those who consider her an authentic expression of a slice of the Neapolitan people, those who object to the media spectacularisation of her personal and legal affairs, and those who simply wonder whether we really needed this at all.

Scraping the bottom of the true crime barrel

Before talking about De Crescenzo, a word about Netflix is in order. The platform, now past its prime yet still capable of producing successful content, has in recent years built up a small strand of well-crafted docuseries devoted to the protagonists of major Italian crime stories: from Manuela Orlandi to Wanna Marchi, taking in Massimo Bossetti and the story of San Patrignano along the way. The streaming giant managed to tap into the Italian public's thirst for true crime with some of the finest titles in its catalogue. There is just one problem: the most high-profile cases have run dry.

Now that the most sensational cases have been told and retold, the decision to bet on De Crescenzo (the series will make a fine companion piece to Tiger King) looks rather like a last resort for a network that no longer knows where to find the kind of more or less nostalgic pop figures capable of captivating huge audiences. All the more so given that De Crescenzo, in the wake of the Roccaraso incident, has already appeared everywhere on television, from Belve to Verissimo, and has told her story a thousand times over.

The docuseries therefore appears to respond more to a logic of exploitation of a phenomenon that has already passed its peak (buying a monkey can reasonably be considered a "jump the shark" moment for the influencer's media arc) than to any genuine narrative urgency. Which inevitably raises the question: did Rita De Crescenzo really deserve a docuseries? Is she truly that interesting, or is this simply yet another showcase for a sideshow act, this time bearing the seal of approval of the world's most famous streaming platform?

Should we return to more uplifting stories?

Let us be clear from the outset: Rita De Crescenzo has every right to create whatever social media content she chooses, and that content does genuinely succeed, reaching millions of people and reflecting, in a certain sense, a real slice of the country. But that is precisely the point: must the real country always be reflected, without filter or discernment? Just because audiences clamour for more mindless, puerile, or simply vulgar entertainment, does that mean they should have it? Television once served higher purposes to better effect.

In De Crescenzo's persona, moreover, all the most dramatic aspects of her biography — becoming a mother at just thirteen, her drug addictions recounted without restraint, her ties to criminal circles, her arrests for drug dealing, the violence she has suffered — are systematically deployed to justify, almost as a counterweight, the trashy, boorish, raucous and aesthetically unpleasant behaviour of someone who, to put it plainly, you would not want sitting at the next table in a restaurant. This does not make her a dishonest person or someone to be shunned; it simply makes her unworthy of a pedestal that glorifies her. Her success causes no harm, true enough — but it reflects no particular merit either.

In Italy there is a powerful tendency for trivial and flamboyant figures to be elevated and rendered, even unwittingly, mythological by the media — turned into heroes and role models simply because their story pulls in viewers. But the fact that an individual or celebrity is an authentic expression of the people does not mean that their hagiography must necessarily be written. In any case, De Crescenzo has contributed nothing to Italian culture, to its elevation, or to the betterment of Italian society: it might be forgivable if she had, in the meantime, produced something of value — but she has not.

There is another aspect to consider: Naples is a city that has for years sought to ennoble itself by drawing on its artists, its athletes, its immense culture. And yet major corporations and audiences alike remain captivated by the Naples of camorristi and maladjusted-but-sexy small-time street thugs as seen in series like Gomorrah with its prequels and spin-offs, and Mare Fuori. Is the most interesting thing about Naples really the lowlifes and the criminal underworld? Is it truly impossible to tell stories that inspire audiences to aspire to something better?