The Watchlist Whisperer: Another Simple Favour & Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story

Struggling to navigate the ever-expanding world of streaming services and on-demand content? Feeling lost in a sea of options, unsure of what to watch next? Worry no more, because The Watchlist Whisperer is here to guide you! We'll be your trusted source for must-watch picks, from captivating dramas and laugh-out-loud comedies to thrilling documentaries and thought-provoking films. Consider us your personal concierge for all things screen-worthy. So, grab your remote, settle in, and get ready to discover your next obsession with The Watchlist Whisperer! 

This week on The Watchlist Whisperer, we’re going from designer delusion to documented horror, and somehow both are hard to look away from. First up: Another Simple Favor, a sequel no one needed and even fewer asked for, but here we are. It’s a glossy mess of mob fiancés, livestreams, and murder in couture, held together mostly by vibes and Blake Lively’s wardrobe. Then we swing to the other extreme with Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story, a grim, rage-inducing documentary that revisits one of the UK’s most horrifying cases of abuse, and the culture that enabled it. If your emotional range this week looks like “chaotic neutral” to “full existential scream,” you’re in the right place.

Another Simple Favor

Platform: Amazon Prime
Episodes: Just the one (Movie)
Vibe Check: Glossy chaos, high camp, aggressively unserious, murder in couture, and held together by outfits and audacity
Watch it if you like: Sequels that jump the shark in designer heels and somehow keep swimming
Watch With: Zucchini bread, a pity drink, and the ability to press pause every time you need to say “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”
Quote That Says It All: "You think I’m the villain? Babe, I invented the villain."

I liked the first A Simple Favor. It was ridiculous, stylish, and unexpectedly sharp. So I figured, why not give the sequel a shot?

Big mistake. But also... kind of fun?

Another Simple Favor is a hot mess wrapped in couture. Anna Kendrick is livestreaming from house arrest in Italy (serving full Anna Delvey vibes), and Blake Lively’s Emily has somehow landed a mob fiancé named Dante. The plot makes zero sense, threads are dropped like bad accessories, and some of the twists are laughably bad, not in a campy way, just in a “wait, what?” way.

And yet. Capri looks stunning. The costumes are a fashion fever dream (Subjective? Maybe.) And Lively and Kendrick? Still weirdly compelling to watch, even as the whole thing crumbles around them.

So no, it’s not good. Not even close. But if you want a movie that’s unapologetically chaotic and doesn’t care if it’s collapsing under its own nonsense, this one’s for you.

Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story

Platform: Netflix
Episodes: 2
Vibe Check: Chilling, infuriating, and deeply unsettling, but also frustratingly surface-level
Watch it if you like: True crime, institutional exposés, or documentaries that make you yell “HOW did this happen!?” every 10 minutes
Watch With: A critical eye, and someone to scream-text after
Quote That Says It All: "Maybe the problem isn’t that we didn’t know. It’s that we didn’t want to know."

I remember reading about Jimmy Savile years ago in a Daily Mail article and feeling sick to my stomach. So when a friend recently recommended this Netflix doc, I clicked in, thinking I was ready. Spoiler: I wasn’t.

Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story is exactly that, a horror. But not in the way you’d hope a documentary like this would be. Yes, it lays out his fame, his creepy interviews, his royal friendships, and the disturbing way he spoke about women and girls, often in plain sight. But when it comes to the actual crimes, to the systems that enabled him, to the institutions that covered for him, it barely scratches the surface.

There are gut-wrenching interviews with survivors. There’s some exploration of how reporters were shut down. But far too much of the runtime is spent rehashing how beloved he was. As a viewer, it feels less like an exposé and more like a rebrand, with Savile still at the centre, still controlling the narrative, still being watched.

It’s haunting. It’s horrifying. But it also left me furious. Furious at how much was left unsaid. At how much wasn’t investigated. And at the fact that even in death, the camera is still on him.