Disclaimer Series-Premiere Recap: The Perfect Stranger

As a literary enthusiast and a connoisseur of suspenseful narratives, I must admit that “Disclaimer” has piqued my interest with its intricate web of secrets, betrayals, and the haunting specter of the past. The story seems to draw from the rich tapestry of life’s complexities, particularly in exploring the dynamics between parents and children, and the repercussions of our actions on those we hold dear.


The unidentified host of this awards ceremony advises caution right from the start, emphasizing that viewers should be mindful of both the storytelling method and the content itself in documentaries. She’s pointing out that filmmakers and journalists have the power to shape a narrative by giving more weight to certain voices, and that a narrow focus might not always reveal the whole truth; a broader perspective might be necessary for capturing the truth more accurately.

The TV series Disclaimer, inspired by Renée Knight’s 2015 domestic noir thriller, seems to be the work of a writer who took cautionary advice seriously, opting for a realistic feel by incorporating numerous narratives and formats. The story unfolds across three distinct timeframes: the distant past, recent flashbacks, and present day. It’s told from various viewpoints, including an intriguing second-person voice-over that benefits greatly from the captivating voice of Cate Blanchett. However, the unintended consequence of telling such a comprehensive story—from multiple origins and perspectives—is that its themes can be somewhat complex to follow. So, what is Disclaimer about? Essentially, its meaning depends on you—is it good? It’s certainly ambitious.

In the earliest and most storied of the series’ timeframes, “Disclaimer” navigates the fine line between juvenile mistakes and fatal consequences. We are introduced to British teenager Jonathan (Louis Partridge) and his girlfriend, Sasha, as they are discovered engaged in an intimate moment within a sleeping compartment on a train. They appear to be backpacking; possibly it’s their gap year – a low-budget reenactment of the Grand Tour inspired by old editions of Lonely Planet. From the start, Jonathan gives off a hint of recklessness, as he fumbles to locate the tickets when confronted by a conductor. Unfortunately, Sasha seems to be a minor character, as the actress portraying her is burdened with difficult dialogue. Her lines consist of terms like “wanker,” “shagging,” and “knickers.” London landmarks are frequently mentioned. It feels as though Alfonso Cuarón, who adapted Knight’s novel himself, may have consulted a chatbot for authentic British slang, typing in: “Speak in London lingo, mate.

Although they’re young and in a romantic setting (Venice), Jonathan exhibits aggressive behavior towards a gondolier, rocking his boat dangerously, yet he stops short of causing harm. Despite his rude tendencies, a sense of decorum taught by his parents prevents him from completely abandoning manners. Impressing Sasha with this false display of disregard for others, they expose Sasha’s underwear to the world and share intimate moments on the train platform. The unique lighting in Venice or the film techniques used by Cuaron give Sasha and Jonathan an intense, “last moments together” vibe from their very first encounter.

For Sasha, unfortunately, her European escapades are brought to an abrupt halt. A family tragedy forces her departure, leaving Jonathan to explore Europe by himself. He wanders listlessly, struggling to connect with other young travelers. He sends a postcard home from Pisa, contemplating Livorno or Amalfi as his next destinations. The world is now within his reach.

In the contemporary scene, twenty years after a significant interval, TV documentarian Catherine Ravenscroft (Blanchett), adorns an awards ceremony. As a speaker praises the captivating influence of storytelling and structure, Catherine prepares to accept an accolade for her role as a “guiding light of truth,” a recognition that brings her satisfaction. Her husband, Robert (Sacha Baron Cohen demonstrating his ability to appear refined), is more of a family man, albeit off the digital grid. He also appreciates fine wine. The harmonious duo inhabits an impeccably luxurious residence, which seems to imply that any challenges they may encounter are minimal, considering their financial means to afford premium window installations in central London.

Upon arriving home from the event, Robert proposes they bring a bottle of red wine to bed straightaway, yet Catherine is adamant about tackling the day’s mail beforehand – an action that Blanchett portrays hesitantly, ripping open envelopes without actually reading the contents. This seemingly minor detail becomes significant later in the episode as it underscores Catherine’s dedication to her postal routine. For instance, when she receives what appears to be a pre-publication copy of a new book (which I assume publishers often send her), Catherine promptly examines it closely.

Two elements immediately grab Catherine’s attention. First, the heartfelt dedication: “To my son, Jonathan.” It strikes her as ordinary yet emotional. Second, the warning: “Any resemblance to persons living or dead is not a coincidence.” This phrase seems like it was carefully crafted for promotional purposes. The contrast between these two messages intrigues Catherine, prompting her to dive into the book immediately. As she reads, Catherine finds herself unable to suppress memories from her past. Flashbacks of her in intimate moments and enjoying her youthfulness flood her mind. She recalls clinging tightly to someone, and a gruesome image of a corpse on a beach also surfaces. These vivid recollections are so intense that they cause Catherine to vomit her wine. Even if your bathroom is quite roomy, one might still find it inconvenient to throw up in it.

After she gets better, Cathy decides to get rid of her copy of “The Perfect Stranger” in the kitchen sink. She feels like the book is about her personally and as she reads it, Cuarón’s writing becomes more dramatic. “That book makes me despise myself all over again,” Cathy tells her husband, Bobby, who quickly rises from bed in the early morning pink light to extinguish the real flames. Catherine doubts that her copy of the novel is unique, but she easily moves on from whatever wrong she has done to restricting the number of people who know about it. She even keeps her secret from Robert, who calls her “Saint Catherine” and helps calm her down. I’m not sure if he’s too good for her or if he’s just blinded by the power of her storytelling and charm. If this were my marriage, I would try to save any remaining pieces of the book from the sink.

Instead, Robert suspects Catherine’s increasing agitation stems from the chilly dynamic she maintains with their son Nicholas (portrayed as a selfish, incel-like character by Kodi Smit-McPhee). He reassures Saint Catherine that she made the right decision in ousting their grown child, who had been stuck in development, from their now-smaller home. Although she may not have always been physically present for their only child, she served as a powerful role model to him, shining like a guiding light. Some mothers are there at bedtime, and some mothers “penetrate the veil that has long shielded prominent institutions and their frequently captivating offenders,” according to the awards presenter’s words.

Next comes Timeline No. 3, focusing on revenge. In Stephen’s (Kevin Kline, who may prove an ill-fitting choice) not-so-distant past but significantly nearer to Catherine’s present than Jonathan’s historical era, he loses his job as a secondary school teacher after 50 years of service. His disdain for the profession following decades spent amidst teenage boys and, progressively, their overprotective mothers, is understandable.

Stephen experiences a profound shift in his daily routine, stirring up emotions within him. Nine years after the loss of his wife Nancy, he feels compelled to give away her old garments for the first time. He’s kept a tight hold on a worn-out, moth-eaten pink cardigan, suggesting he’s both nostalgic and somewhat unbalanced. As he reexamines her possessions, he also confronts his lingering sorrow. In one of her bags, he finds a bundle of photographs: pictures of Jonathan. “To my son, Jonathan.” These images depict the same young woman who seems to haunt Catherine, a younger version of herself, provocatively posed in red underwear. Stephen recognizes this woman, whom he had thought was just an observer in his own life’s unfortunate events, such as the scene at the beach where Catherine stood beside Jonathan’s lifeless body. “To my son, Jonathan.

For over ten years, Stephen has been discovering secrets that his deceased wife, Nancy, had kept hidden. Gathering his courage, he decides to open a locked drawer in her desk – a desk that Nancy had isolated herself in during the last days of her life, just as she had barred Stephen from entering their late son Jonathan’s room. In the past, Nancy had been typing constantly, and Stephen was never privy to what she was working on. However, we now understand that it was likely a manuscript based on her own experiences.

In a recent turn of events, Stephen, who seemed to be nearing life’s end, rediscovers his motivation. With assistance from his former employer, he self-publishes several copies of the novel “The Perfect Stranger” under a pseudonym. He plans to send one copy to Catherine, but distributing multiple copies will cause more harm to this mysterious individual. It transpires that a copy reaches a department store where Nick, at 25 years old, uses his phone’s volume to subtly avoid interacting with Catherine. Nick, who is sensitive about his literacy, perceives his mother’s questions about the book as an attack on his reading skills. Ironically, he enjoyed the part where “the selfish woman dies,” although it’s unclear if he unconsciously saw his own mother in that character.

The initial 45-minute segment of Disclaimer brings to mind shows such as Big Little Lies, Expats, and various other series focusing on social class, often starring Nicole Kidman. It raises questions like: Is it equally tragic when unfortunate events befall those who sip expensive wine from delicate glasses, or is it even more heart-wrenching? This isn’t uncharted territory for television, but Alfonso Cuarón’s influence makes it feel fresh. The dramatic iris transitions that mark Jonathan’s timeline, similar to the opening and closing of Cuarón’s camera aperture, are reminiscent of a Nikon camera that Jonathan is not accustomed to using. This camera was a gift from his mother, who will one day discover Jonathan’s unused film spools and use them to reconstruct the truth about what happened to her only son, whom she cared for throughout the nights while wearing a worn rose cardigan.

To put it another way, one episode of Disclaimer contains more poignant moments than most full-length movies. For instance, Kevin Kline, sitting at his son’s desk, seems to relish a ’90s British version of Axe body spray as if it were nectar from the gods. Considering the ability to smell one’s deceased child again after two decades. Then there’s Stephen, trapping a cockroach in an overturned water glass while he fantasizes about disrupting Catherine’s comfortable lifestyle. This isn’t just a plot for revenge; it’s a means for him to feel powerful, alive, and significant. He can’t even crush the bug on his own kitchen counter, but he thinks he’ll get her – or so he thinks. The Perfect Stranger, a story he didn’t even create, gives him this illusion.

At the end of the episode, it turns out that whatever actions Catherine took (or didn’t take) leading to Jonathan’s death occurred more recently in the past than many viewers initially thought. It is revealed that Catherine is already a mother when Jonathan begins taking her photographs on the beach. The first time she looks into Jonathan’s eyes, her own son – the one who currently hates her – is playing nearby in the surf. As she runs her fingers through her hair, the same hair she will chew 20 years later while reflecting on this moment in writing, little does she know that she will read about it from the perspective of Jonathan’s mother, whose inability to save her son may yet have consequences even after death, potentially snuffing out the truth.

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2024-10-11 13:54