Courtesy of Apple TV+
“Disclaimer” should be an obvious slam dunk. An adaptation of the 2015 Renée Knight bestseller of the same name, the Apple TV+ series boasts perhaps television’s most esteemed creative team in years — performers Cate Blanchett and Kevin Kline, director Alfonso Cuarón and cinematographers Emmanuel Lubezki and Bruno Delbonnel. However, despite the undeniable benefits of having multiple Academy Award winners working on the show, the limited series somehow manages to be a disappointing — dare I say, even old-fashioned — exercise.
“Disclaimer” follows Catherine Ravenscroft (played by Blanchett), a high-strung, upper class documentarian whose personal and professional life begins to unravel when she receives a novel which threatens to reveal her adulterous secrets. In searching for the author of the novel, Ravenscroft must confront her past and its ramifications on her current lifestyle.
First and foremost, it’s important to situate the series within the larger television landscape. With a creator experienced in film as opposed to television, traditional movie star leads, sizable production budget, self-serious tone and social justice-minded focus, “Disclaimer” checks nearly every single prerequisite for the decade’s most pervasive television trend: prestige TV. Fueled primarily by the influx of new streaming services eager to fill their content pipelines with meaningful, eventized entertainment, prestige TV has become the dominant format for serialized storytelling on television (see “Big Little Lies,” “The Morning Show” or literally any series Nicole Kidman has appeared in in the last half a decade).
Easily identifiable thanks to those aforementioned traits, prestige TV also tends to generate the same recurring problems in show after show. That’s because of a very basic fact: television and movies are two very different mediums. The two may seem similar, but they actually require very different structural styles of storytelling. That’s why when filmmakers with little to no television experience are tapped to create shows, disjointed and poorly-paced so-called “event series” are what follow.
It brings me no pleasure to report that with “Disclaimer,” even writer-director Alfonso Cuarón, who, in my estimation, happens to be one of the greatest living filmmakers on the planet, can’t escape the prestige TV trap. The series may begin intriguingly, with a strong conceptual hook and mesmerizing rhythm, but it doesn’t take long for the effect to wear thin. Each chapter of “Disclaimer” lacks a discernible narrative structure and feels unnaturally stretched to fit a longer runtime. Not only that, but the non-linear construction of the plot quickly grows tiring. There’s definitely delight to be found in its varying “Rashomon”-esque accounts of the same event but not if viewers recall that the same trick has been accomplished before and better. As with most prestige TV, it’s impossible not to wonder how much better “Disclaimer” could’ve been as a tightly-paced, streamlined movie.
Courtesy of Apple TV+
The show is not without its charms, however, as the allure of Cuarón’s directorial style is impossible to completely erase. His iconic use of long takes pair nicely with “Disclaimer’s” stunning color grading, naturalistic lighting and richly detailed, austere yet lived-in production design to create easily the best-looking show on television. If nothing else, the series is at least a feast for the eyes.
Similarly, there’s a primal thrill in witnessing one of our greatest actresses doing her thing. As a master at playing high-strung, upper class women unraveling, Blanchett makes a meal out of this role. As does Kline, who excels at selling the increasingly machiavellian persona his character adopts. In fact, “Disclaimer’s” entire cast (with the exception of a sorely miscast Sacha Baron Cohen) is operating on such a high level that it’s hard to not at least find some level of enjoyment here.
These positive qualities fight to counteract “Disclaimer’s” most prominent flaw: the narration. This series features some of the most ridiculous, overbearing, unintentionally comedic narration in television. Any sense of nuance or interiority is stripped away in exchange for on-the-nose, perpetual voiceover that only serves to verbalize what’s already apparent. Not only is it annoying, but it tips the show’s already self-serious disposition into almost unbearable pretension.
To some extent, this tonal approach is understandable. “Disclaimer” grapples with a heavy subject matter that’s better tackled with respect than irreverence. “Disclaimer’s” central thematic core is a good, even important social justice idea, but it’s just too little too late. Considering the social movements of 2015, when Knight’s story was published (forgive my vague wording — I’m tiptoeing around spoilers here), “Disclaimer” (the book) probably felt revolutionary. In 2024, however, the conversation has moved far past this story’s capability to comment. “Disclaimer” (the show) is unfortunately AOA: antiquated on arrival.
Ultimately, “Disclaimer” has a serious identity crisis. It treats a soapy, melodramatic, almost Almodóvarian narrative as dour, be-all and end-all gospel. The show takes itself so seriously it becomes tedious, failing to grasp the inherent joke lying within the ridiculousness of its credulity-straining plot. Simply put, “Disclaimer” leaves viewers no option but to laugh at it instead of with it.
If that’s not a clear mark against prestige TV, I don’t know what is. If Cuarón can’t salvage it, maybe it’s time to retire the formula. Hopefully the studios take notice.
5/10
