Evil Genius: The True Story of America’s Most Diabolical Bank Heist

When a documentary starts with a title as grandiose as Evil Genius, expectations are naturally set high. You’d imagine a story about brilliant criminal masterminds pulling off the heist of the century. What you actually get is a convoluted tale of troubled individuals with questionable intelligence fumbling their way through a poorly executed scheme for a meagre payout. If this is what qualifies as “evil genius,” then I guess the bar is really low.
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Evil Genius recounts the bizarre events surrounding the 2003 “pizza bomber” case, a bank heist in Erie, Pennsylvania, that ended with a collar bomb, a dead man, and a tangled web of conspiracies involving a cast of eccentric characters. Over four episodes, Netflix attempts to unravel the truth behind this infamous crime, featuring exclusive interviews and archival footage.
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Let’s get the positives out of the way first. The story itself is undeniably compelling, filled with twists, turns, and larger-than-life characters like Marjorie Diehl-Armstrong, whose unhinged behaviour becomes the centrepiece of the narrative. The exclusive footage and interviews with key figures add an air of authenticity, and the sheer oddity of the case makes it worth a watch.

But here’s where things start to unravel—much like the heist itself. The documentary’s structure is a mess. The first episode feels like being tossed into the middle of a chaotic crime scene with no context, leaving you struggling to piece together who’s who and why anything is happening. One moment you’re watching a bank robbery with a bomb collar; the next, you’re learning about Marjorie’s complicated history, with no clear explanation of how the two connect. A more linear narrative would have done wonders for clarity.
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Then there’s the pacing. Much like other Netflix docuseries (MH370, we’re looking at you), Evil Genius suffers from the dreaded Netflix bloat. At four episodes, it’s at least two episodes too long. Repetitive recaps and unnecessary tangents pad out the runtime, making the series feel slower than the heist getaway itself.
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The biggest letdown, however, is the titular promise of “evil genius.” The documentary paints the participants as criminal masterminds, but their actions suggest anything but. They made rookie mistakes, were driven by petty motives, and ultimately failed spectacularly. The heist feels less like a carefully orchestrated plot and more like a darkly comedic episode of America’s Dumbest Criminals.
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And let’s not forget the stylistic inconsistencies. The series flips awkwardly between first-person narration by the journalist/filmmaker—channeling a budget Louis Theroux—and a third-person historical documentary style. The result is a tone as disjointed as the events it depicts. While the chaotic style may be an unintentional reflection of the case itself, it’s more frustrating than artistic.