A BBC One and Netflix co-production, the mini-series The Snake narrates the murderous journey of Charles Sobhraj. Brilliantly portrayed by Tahar Rahim, the criminal raged on the Asian continent during the 1970s. A chilling series based on real events, already strong from its success on British screens. We would even find an atmosphere with Narcos sauce. Who says real facts, says modifications of the original story. For the purposes of the script as out of respect for the families of the victims, The Snake is not always based on the truth, but brilliantly transcribes this dark story. Obviously, Charles Sobhraj finds himself at the center of the plot. Often calling himself Alain Gauthier, the serial killer easily moves from one identity to another. He claims to be a dealer in precious stones. With his ally and companion, Marie-Andrée Leclerc – alias Monique – they give the illusion of being protectors for young European travelers, whose trust they easily gain. Their benevolence, however, is only a mask to better fly and poison their prey. Often they are helped by Charles' henchman, Ajay (Amesh Edireweera). In parallel, former acquaintances of Sobhraj and a young Dutch diplomat, Herman Knippenberg (Billy Howle), lead the investigation to bring him down, following the discovery of the corpses of a Dutch couple… The Snake then leads us into an exciting but sinister investigation. 
A true story
In eight episodes of about an hour each, The Snake plunges us into the appalling crimes of Sobhraj. What makes this mini-series all the more chilling is that its actions are real. Born to a Vietnamese mother and an Indian father, Charles Sobhraj was born in 1944 in Saigon. His parents separated when he was 3 years old, and the child remained in Vietnam with his father, where he spent part of his childhood, wandering the streets. Later, his mother brought him back to France where he obtained French nationality. Quickly, he plunges into delinquency, committing several thefts. At the age of 19, he was sentenced to three years in prison. On his release, he meets a French woman whom he marries, and with whom he flees to India to escape a new conviction. Sobhraj's life is thus made up of crimes of all kinds, and escapes. He constantly avoids justice. Le Serpent , however, focuses on the next period of his life, beginning with his meeting with Quebecer Marie-Andrée Leclerc. She becomes his accomplice from the moment she joins him in Thailand. Sobhraj also relies on his sidekick Ajay Chowdhury, who will also play a major role in the commission of his crimes. With a well-crafted modus operandi, the couple and Ajay manage to catch many individuals – often European tourists. They claim to trade in jewellery and precious stones, and welcome their victims into their home at Kanit House, located in Bangkok. Seduced by the couple's magnetic charisma, these tourists do not detect the deception. After drugging them, Sobhraj and his allies take the opportunity to steal their belongings, papers and passports. Soon, they no longer just drug and rob their victims, and commit appalling murders. 
A clever narrative construction
The Snake opens with a scene where Sobhraj, in 1997, gives an interview to American journalists. From the beginning, we perceive his aura, his ability to avoid questions in the same way that he escaped justice in the course of his crimes. With some insolence, Sobhraj said he could no longer be judged, living as a free man in Paris at that time. With such a scene, one might think that the criminal lives with impunity. Quickly, the series plunges us into the 1970s. And the immersion is total. Hippie look, desires of discoveries and elsewhere, and spirit of liberation of morals, all the ingredients are gathered, up to the Cactus of Dutronc. The ideals of the time eventually mingled with the horror of the crimes of Sobhraj. Round glasses and half-open shirt, Sobhraj walks through the party he gives at Kanit House, like a man who gets everything he wants. But, behind the closed door of one of the apartments of the residence, he drugs a man with the help of his girlfriend. Constantly, we oscillate between the light of this couple to which everything seems to succeed, and the darkness of blood-curdling crimes. Transcribing such a story is a risky bet, but indeed taken up by the screenwriters. The crimes of Sobhraj intersect with the investigation led by Herman Knippenberg, and over the episodes, the story is built like a puzzle that takes shape after several hours of construction. In addition, the play on the different temporalities increases the suspense tenfold – among other things on the fate of the victims. 
Total metamorphosis for Tahar Rahim
Actor caesarized for A Prophet, by Jacques Audiard, Tahar Rahim brilliantly embodies the formidable Charles Sobhraj. Convincing, hejuggles between the many faces of his character. Sometimes benefactor, sometimes diabolical, Tahar Rahim is impressive in his interpretation, so much so that one could also, as a spectator, fall into the nets of the criminal with charisma that can not be denied. All this, the French actor transcribes to perfection, without ever falling into the caricature of the criminal without faith or law. Hypnotic, the actor is one of the major assets of this production. At his side, Jenna Coleman (Dr. Who, Victoria), who shines in the same way as in the mini-series The Cry. Caught in the nets of Sobhraj, out of love, sometimes she follows him in his crimes, sometimes she closes her eyes. At his request, she changed her identity several times. Lost between the one she was – Marie-Andrée -, and the one that Sobhraj made of her – Monique. "Marie is terrified but Monique has to stay calm," she said. So, we wonder about our perception of the character. What should I do? Have pity on her? Or condemn her in the same way as her companion? Only downside, the Quebec accent almost non-existent. Today, Sobhraj, now 77, is still serving his sentence in Nepal. Marie-Andrée Leclerc died of cancer in 1984. An addictive, psychological series, that crime enthusiasts and curious alike will devour with enthusiasm.
