Imagine standing on the edge of a lush green hillside, gazing out at a breathtaking sunset. A sunset where yellow melds into pink, the kind of scene you’d wish you could bottle up and keep forever. You want to keep walking, to savor the beauty of this view, yet an uneasiness stirs within you. Something feels off. Your instincts warn you that pressing forward might lead to something unpleasant, but curiosity drives you to take another step.
Apple’s new series Disclaimer evokes precisely this feeling in me. It begins in a sleek, stylish London home, with Catherine Ravenscroft (Cate Blanchett), a successful documentary filmmaker with an enviable career, a devoted husband (Sacha Baron Cohen), and a seemingly perfect life. But a secret from Catherine’s past is on the verge of surfacing, disrupting this idyllic picture. The unease grows, and you’re hooked, devouring episode after episode.
Directed and created by Alfonso Cuarón, known for masterpieces like Roma and Y tu mamá también, the show grips you with his masterful storytelling. Cuarón is an expert at revealing unease within beauty and weaving sexual tension into unsettling moments. The series’ visual palette reflects this, with its stunning landscapes underscored by mounting tension.
As the story unfolds, we’re taken back to a summer vacation Catherine spent in Italy as a young mother. The warmth and allure of the Mediterranean summer enhance the viewing experience, but this charm is tinged with tragedy. During this trip, a 19-year-old British boy named Jonathan lost his life, leaving behind grieving parents. The mystery surrounding this loss and its connection to Catherine keeps you riveted.
Jonathan’s parents, played by the formidable Kevin Kline and Lesley Manville, live in a starkly different reality from Catherine’s luxurious world. The socioeconomic dynamics between the characters add another layer to the narrative, one that Cuarón handles deftly.
Yet, as the episodes progress and the mystery starts to reveal itself, you begin questioning the pacing. Once the core of the story becomes apparent, the interim episodes feel like filler.
Disclaimer emphasizes that truth is rarely straightforward, that reality often has multiple perspectives. Based on a novel, the series explores how secrets and unresolved moments shape relationships and family dynamics. While I generally prefer books to be adapted as series for their room to expand characters and plots, I’m unsure if Disclaimer benefits from this approach. Despite some depth added to certain characters, we mostly see them within a narrow slice of their lives. The stretched seven-hour narrative works against the suspense, creating a rhythm issue for the series.
The title of the series itself references the “disclaimer” that often accompanies films and books—asserting that any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. The story revolves around a book that blends fiction and reality, challenging perceptions of truth while complicating relationships. This documentary-like lens adds an intriguing dynamic, but the characters’ unexplored dimensions remain a weak link.
At its core, Disclaimer is an exploration of two forms of motherhood, women’s realities, and the complexities of truth. While it has much to say, it falters in fully delivering on its contrasts. Alfonso Cuarón might have been better off adapting the novel into a feature film.
That said, despite its narrative flaws, the series concludes with a powerful ending. A climactic dialogue between Catherine and her husband, Robert, gives the finale profound meaning. However, the uneven pacing and mid-series lull make this thriller feel incomplete. I’m left with mixed feelings—enthralled by parts, yet let down by the whole.