There are moments during Caroline Flack: Her Life And Death (Channel 4, 9pm) when her friends and family seem to be questioning the wisdom of participating in a documentary dissecting the television presenter’s tragic final months.
“It feels so weird talking about it,” says Flack’s twin, Jody, recalling the destructive streak that, on more than one occasion, led to her sister overdosing on pills and being rushed to the emergency department. “She didn’t want anyone to know.”
Yet the message that cuts through most powerfully is that the popular pastime of beating up on those in the public eye – women in particular – has real consequences
Flack died by suicide in February 2020. An assault charge relating to an attack on her boyfriend had led her to lose her job hosting Love Island. On top of that, social media – which is to say people sitting at home on their phones – had subjected her to hysterical levels of cruelty and vitriol. Her body was found in her home in Stoke Newington, prompting a mass outcry and the trending Twitter hashtag “be kind”.
But it was too late to “be kind”. And one year on, this gripping and upsetting film tries to do several things at once. It is a tribute to Flack – a larger-than-life personality whom, we are told, spread joy wherever she went.
It also delves into the domestic abuse charges brought against her following an attack on Lewis Burton that left the model and former tennis player with a head wound. And it confronts the culture of abuse on social media by which Twitter and Facebook users chase dopamine hits by subjecting strangers to vicious levels of abuse (while, often, simultaneously banging on about their own mental health, as if they are uniquely vulnerable).
Flack was clearly deeply troubled. More than once, the unhappy end of a relationship led to an overdose and a stay in hospital. And though hungry for celebrity, she was not calibrated to deal with the attendant pressures. “She did want to be famous,” says her television producer friend Anna Blue. “The problem was, she just wasn’t emotionally wired to deal with all the pressure of being famous.”
Her family’s grief remains raw and it is heartbreaking to see Jody and the twins’ mother, Christine, poring over old photographs. Home movie footage of “Carrie” and Jody singing as children and teenagers is almost unwatchable.
Yet the message that cuts through most powerfully is that the popular pastime of beating up on those in the public eye – women in particular – has real consequences. Olly Murs recalls the savage backlash against him and Flack during their unsuccessful season hosting The X Factor. And he points out that she had it so much worse. We see Graham Norton make a throwaway gag at Flack’s X Factor failure – a joke he presumably now regrets.
There are echoes in all this of last month’s Framing Britney Spears documentary. One of the arguments that film implicitly made was that the sort of misogyny Spears suffered in the early 2000s wouldn’t happen today; we’re beyond that. But are we? Flack was subjected to sexism and bile every bit as vicious as that directed at Britney.
The difference is, where the mainstream press led the charge against Spears, in Flack’s case it was social media. In other words, the general public. The uncomfortable question Caroline Flack: Her Life and Death poses is whether we’ve progressed quite as far as we would like to believe in our treatment of women in the public eye.
