Alfonso Cuarón's 'Disclaimer' on Apple TV+ Really Wants to Be Prestige TV

By Kayleigh Donaldson | TV | October 11, 2024 |

By Kayleigh Donaldson | TV | October 11, 2024 |

Disclaimer, the latest prestige miniseries from Apple TV+, opens, fittingly, with a disclaimer. Catherine (Cate Blanchett) is receiving a prestigious honour for her work as a documentary filmmaker. Presenting the award is Christiane Amanpour, who heralds Catherine for her ability to force out the truth amid the sea of biases that dominate our lives. But beware how narratives are formed, and by whom, and why.

Catherine’s seemingly idyllic upper-middle class life, with her kind but snobbish husband Robert (Sacha Baron Cohen), is interrupted by the arrival of a mysterious book. This short novel, clearly self-published and titled The Perfect Stranger, eerily echoes a dark moment from many years ago. While on holiday with her son, she met a young man named Jonathan (Louis Partridge.) Someone wants the world to know all about that which she wishes could be kept buried.

It’s almost a running joke now how Apple TV+ spends hundreds of millions of dollars on making the most prestigious programming with the most acclaimed stars of our time, and it ends up being watched by tens of viewers. Call it Peak TV syndrome, or maybe we’re all just too broke to pay for yet another streaming service, but not even breakout hits like Ted Lasso seem to have encouraged audiences to stick around. Disclaimer comes to us courtesy of Alfonso Cuaron, adapting a bestselling novel, and with no fewer than five Oscar nominees among its main cast. Sounds like a sure-fire hit, right? Well, this beautifully mounted but narratively obvious production might have an uphill climb, and not just because of the platform releasing it.

There are many narratives at play here, some more forward than others. Catherine’s voiceover is in second-person, acting as a distancing device between herself of the past and that of the present. There’s Stephen Brigstocke (Kevin Kline), a retired teacher who blames Catherine for the destruction of his family, talking to us like the magnanimous seeker of vengeance he’s come to view himself as. There’s also the book at the centre of the drama, a sexy beach read that delves into Catherine’s past when she and the Brigstockes crossed paths.

Disclaimer hopes to throw you off the scent with this blend of biases. Who can you really trust when, as Amanpour told us in the first scene, a truly reliable perspective is hard to come by and tough to form? To aid this tanglement of tales, cinematographers Bruno Delbonnel and Emmanuel Lubezki throw every trick at the screen. It’s not hard to be bowled over by two of the greatest cinematographers of all time flexing their muscles in an extended victory lap (TIFF got the first three episodes of seven), although it does make far clearer what the book conveys more slowly. When the scenes of Catherine’s past and the inciting incident are presented to us with the soft Vaseline-on-the-lens sheen of a dreamy perfume ad, you immediately distrust what we’re being shown. So, narratively, there’s a change to how you consume Disclaimer compared to the novel. Whether or not this is a good thing will be dependent on how the other four episodes go (for the record, the book’s ending pissed me off.)

It’s not that Disclaimer is bad. You would have to work overtime to make Cuaron, Lubezki, Blanchett, and Lesley effing Manville fall into the mid category. Blanchett can do this sort of character in her sleep, but her crumbling mental state as her past is revealed is palpable. She’s certainly acting Sacha Baron Cohen off the screen, a man who just isn’t ready for this sort of drama. Kevin Kline wears some old-age make-up and is a bit too theatrical in his doddery senior citizen act, while Manville’s grief and bitterness are devastating in her brief appearances. There’s real commitment here, but not for much.

I’m all for directors choosing to elevate their source material. The novel of Disclaimer is basically an airport book, the kind of quick read for Gone Girl fans that keeps you gripped for three hours before you leave it behind for someone else to pass the time with. Frankly, this would have made more sense being a Nicole Kidman Netflix series in the vein of The Perfect Couple. We didn’t get the full show at TIFF but the trio of episodes we did see suggest that they’re stretching this 300+ page book well beyond its limits. All of that stunning cinematography can’t conceal that this is ultimately a very conventional thriller, one made less surprising to unfold through those aesthetic flourishes. I didn’t guess the book’s ending but someone at the press screening behind me guessed it correctly by the end of the third episode.

Turning Disclaimer into something so prestigious only reinforces the limits of the source material, and no amount of excellent direction can overcome those rigid foundations. It’s impressive to watch masters of their craft go for broke, but by the end of three episodes, I felt like I’d seen all they had to offer. And frankly, I don’t want to see the ending because, even if I hadn’t read the book, it’s so thoroughly declared to you that the prospect is both queasy and tedious. Keep your Apple TV+ subscription for Bad Sisters instead.

Disclaimer had its North American premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. It will be released weekly on Apple TV+, with the first episode premiering on October 11.