Cate Blanchett and Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Disclaimer’ Is a Failed Attempt at a Feminist Thriller: TV Review

As someone who has spent years immersed in the world of cinema and storytelling, I must confess that Alfonso Cuarón’s latest work, “Disclaimer,” left me with a sense of mixed emotions. On one hand, there is no denying his mastery over visual narratives, particularly when it comes to using the ocean as a metaphor for emotional extremes. However, this strength seems to be at odds with the talky, interpersonal drama that forms the core of “Disclaimer.

Alfonso Cuarón, renowned director, is exceptionally skilled at using the ocean as a symbol for intense emotions in his films such as “Children of Men,” “Gravity,” and “Roma.” Through his collaborations with Oscar-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, the Mexican director often uses turbulent seas to represent themes ranging from renewal to security to transformative renewal. The Apple TV+ series “Disclaimer,” penned and directed by Cuarón, perfectly matches this creative style. This series revolves around conflicting narratives about a young man’s death by drowning on an Italian beach, and it’s safe to say that the series abounds with extended shots of crashing waves.

Although Alfonso Cuarón is a fitting director for grand, spectacle-filled films like “Roma”, he seems less suitable for the intricate, dialogue-heavy drama “Disclaimer”. This series, based on Renée Knight’s 2015 novel of the same name, delves into themes of grief, self-deception, and storytelling – areas where Cuarón typically prefers to express intimacy through epic events. For instance, even “Roma”, a personal account of his childhood in Mexico City, included large-scale events such as a student uprising. Furthermore, the series itself doesn’t translate well to its new medium. It retains elements, like excessive narration, that work better on paper, and it struggles with the rhythmic flow and structure typical of episodic TV shows, despite boasting big names like Cate Blanchett and Kevin Kline. Ultimately, “Disclaimer” starts as a puzzling, enigmatic watch and ends with a twist that loses its impact due to the seven hours of build-up leading up to it.

Following her outstanding portrayal of Phyllis Schlafly in “Mrs. America”, Blanchett is back on television for “Disclaimer”, playing Catherine Ravenscroft, a renowned documentarian who finds herself embroiled in a past event. The series focuses more on the symbolic significance rather than her actual work: She’s spent her life revealing truths, but when an unassuming novel titled “The Perfect Stranger” mysteriously arrives at her doorstep, its content suggests that her affluent lifestyle might be based on a fabrication. The book’s title disclaimer states explicitly that any similarity to real individuals, whether living or deceased, is not a mere coincidence.

In “The Perfect Stranger”, it’s revealed that the author is Stephen Brigstocke, portrayed brilliantly by Kline as a British character. After losing his job as a teacher and his wife Nancy (Manville) to cancer, Stephen embarks on a complex mission for revenge. Their son Jonathan (Partridge) had tragically passed away during his gap year in Italy years earlier. The narrative of “Disclaimer” shifts between Stephen’s pursuit of Catherine and flashbacks that appear to shed light on why he holds her responsible for Jonathan’s demise.

Lubezki, co-executive producer and joint director of photography with Bruno Delbonnel, imbues these scenes with a warm golden-hour ambiance that underscores Jonathan’s growing affection for the younger Catherine (Leila George), during their holiday with her five-year-old son. In the contemporary narrative, Stephen sends incriminating photos of Catherine to her wealthy husband Rob (Sacha Baron Cohen, effectively portraying a pathetic cuckold), who plunges into a self-destructive phase characterized by sexual insecurity. He subsequently pretends to be someone else and contacts Catherine’s now-grown son Nicholas (Kodi Smit-McPhee), a laid-back character living in a shabby shared apartment, working at an appliance store. In the film, Kodi Smit-McPhee, who was mesmerizing in “The Power of the Dog,” is underutilized as a disheartened individual whose negative traits are carelessly indicated through his fondness for hip-hop music.

Despite whether Stephen’s grand scheme is ultimately just or not, there could be a touch more delightful mischief in witnessing him bring such misery upon Catherine. Kline, with his bushy eyebrows and Nancy’s preferred pink cardigan, seems to deliver a more comedic portrayal than Cuarón chose for the final cut, almost gleefully preparing as he plays the bumbling old man to his unsuspecting victims. Instead, Cuarón chooses to anchor the series around Catherine’s extended mental collapse. The mobile camera follows Blanchett through her character’s London townhouse and modern office space, both meticulously designed by production designer Neil Lamont and set decorator Pancho Chamorro, serving as a striking contrast to Stephen’s modest row house.

Regrettably, in “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness,” Cate Blanchett’s performance seems to be a repetition of roles she has mastered before. In films like “Blue Jasmine” and “Tár,” she won accolades for portraying wealthy women facing their downfall, and high-profile figures confronting potential cancellation. However, as Catherine, she faces an additional challenge. Firstly, the script incorporates a verbose, second-person narration by Indira Varma, such as “Your misguided belief you had a right to silence has condemned you,” which doesn’t add depth to either character. Secondly, crucial details about Catherine are withheld until the end, robbing the story of suspense and taking a toll on the development of her character.

As Catherine dramatically declares, “My voice must be heard now!”, it becomes clear that the explicit scenes depicting Catherine as a passionate older woman (MILF) and her devoted follower Jonathan, found throughout the Italian episodes, do not accurately reflect reality. However, the disclaimer does not surface until after any initial tension has dissipated into aimless melancholy. The narrative’s pace, which might have been more impactful in a shorter film format, loses momentum in both Stephen’s pursuit and Catherine’s self-defense, leaving critics like me exhausted from repeating the same critiques!

The central idea that “Disclaimer” tries to convey, and what its shortcomings ultimately undermine, is an unsuccessful exploration of feminist themes. As “The Perfect Stranger” gains widespread attention, a bookseller dismisses the female character as being “horrible.” Similarly to “Fleishman Is In Trouble,” another work that faced challenges in adapting its nuanced perspective for television, “Disclaimer” fails to deliver its meta-fictional argument about women’s underrepresented viewpoints in a more refined manner.

The way Catherine’s life is turned upside down in an unsettling, Kafka-esque manner isn’t fully captured by the show “Disclaimer.” Although it attempts to delve into allegory, it doesn’t quite manage to do so effectively. The plot seems implausible, with characters acting strangely and unfortunately reinforcing real-life biases that are sadly prevalent. Despite Cuarón creating some powerful visuals, he fails to mold “Disclaimer” into a meaningful vehicle for its narrative.

You can now start streaming the initial two episodes of the series “Disclaimer” on Apple TV+. The subsequent episodes will be released every Friday.

2024-10-11 17:17

Cate Blanchett and Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Disclaimer’ Is a Failed Attempt at a Feminist Thriller: TV Review

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