You’ve Seen This One Before

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A captivating individual swiftly ascends to fame, amassing significant wealth along the way, often relying on an inspiring rags-to-riches tale and a fresh perspective on traditional beliefs. They might be a startup entrepreneur like Elizabeth Holmes, or a claimed heiress with property ventures but a personal wealth just beyond reach, such as Anna Delvey. If you’ve subscribed to any streaming platform lately, you’re probably familiar with their type. These characters are frequently portrayed by either an up-and-coming or established actor seeking accolades; their story has been extensively publicized through podcasts and books deals, leaving little new ground to cover; and except for a handful of instances—like The Dropout—the insights generally remain superficial. Here’s a suggestion for you: Gather all the elements common in this genre, simmer until most of the essential elements have been extracted, serve it years after the public’s initial interest has waned, and what you’ve created is Apple Cider Vinegar.

The new Netflix series, labeled as a “sort-of-true tale spun from deceit,” narrates the life and exploits of Belle Gibson, an Australian social media influencer who falsely claimed to have terminal brain cancer. This series, which begins by exposing her deception in its first episode, highlights that cancer cannot be cured through dietary changes alone. The intriguing aspect lies in understanding how Gibson managed to maintain this elaborate hoax for such an extended period, gaining media attention and even striking business deals with Apple for the launch of the Apple Watch. This scenario underscores the tendency of people to question conventional medicine and overvalue alternative thinkers, particularly when they present themselves as attractive white women. However, Gibson’s story is not a new one, especially in Australia, where she was at the heart of media frenzy around 2015, including an infamous television interview that the series recreates meticulously. There have been numerous books, articles, and documentaries about her, with a detailed biography serving as the basis for “Apple Cider Vinegar.” For a critical analysis of the media environment that fosters figures like Gibson, I recommend the episode of “Maintenance Phase” on the subject, which concisely addresses her story in under an hour.

After a decade, what contribution does a Netflix series make to our comprehension of Gibson’s deceptions? Primarily, it recounts the details of the scandal in a sensationalized yet disjointed manner that is characteristic of shows on the streaming platform. The series, penned by Samantha Strauss (of ‘Nine Perfect Strangers’), along with Anya Beyersdorf and Angela Betzien, presents a structural flaw: it jumps around in time as it attempts to narrate Gibson’s tale from various viewpoints.

The story is portrayed from Gibson’s perspective, acted with tenacity and an authentic Australian accent by Kaitlyn Dever, as she strives to justify herself with the aid of high-priced crisis management. However, we also witness her narrative through the lens of Milla, a wellness influencer played by Alycia Debnam-Carey who is battling cancer but has convinced herself, and her followers, to rely solely on unscientific treatments (a fictional character, seemingly amalgamating other women from Gibson’s era). We also hear from Milla’s friend Chanelle, portrayed by Aisha Dee of ‘The Bold Type’, offering the only American accent and who would be better served in a more substantial project. She becomes entangled in Belle’s orbit but ultimately shares her story with the media (a real-life woman named Chanelle McAuliffe did so).

Mark Coles Smith plays our resolute investigative journalist, doggedly pursuing the truth while his own partner battles cancer – the show uses this as a platform to, tentatively, delve into the allure of alternative therapies. Lastly, Ashley Zukerman from ‘The Lost Symbol’ portrays Belle’s husband, a man who appears long-suffering, willfully ignorant, and, frankly, rather dimwitted.

Having so many main characters in the narrative of Apple Cider Vinegar results in a confusing jumble of stories. While it’s feasible to construct a unified storyline from conflicting viewpoints by emphasizing shared themes, Apple Cider Vinegar tends to switch between its storylines clumsily and obviously. The show repeatedly delves into the psychological traits of its characters, such as Belle’s tendency to feign illness when threatened or Milla’s reliance on pseudoscience to avoid contemplating mortality, without much finesse.

In the realm of streaming television, I’ve found myself all too often grappling with familiar structural issues – from overly explanatory dialogue that seems tailored for multitaskers to bright, oversaturated cinematography that makes every production appear as if it was mass-produced from an Icee machine. The performances, while intense, seem to lack emotional depth, much like a gymnastics routine without the grace or finesse. However, in other projects, such as the gripping true-crime drama “Unbelievable” or even amid the high jinks of “Booksmart”, I’ve demonstrated my ability to captivate audiences with a subtle, understated approach – a naturalism that was my greatest strength in films like “Dear Evan Hansen”, where I played a complex character dealing with grief and online deception. Unfortunately, in “Apple Cider Vinegar”, I’m merely a canvas for the audience to project their own drama onto, devoid of the nuance and depth that I can bring to my craft. Here, my accent is a prop, my emotional outbursts are technical showboating, rather than a genuine display of acting prowess.

In a somewhat captivating yet shallow manner, Apple Cider Vinegar portrays the broader wellness culture it discusses. The show hints at criticisms that are common but not fully explored. Indeed, doctors can sometimes be blunt to a fault, and the allure of “alternative” medicine scams lies in their promise of a less painful, more personal approach. However, the series doesn’t seem to provide sufficient reasons for dedicating six entire episodes to a known liar, or convince viewers it brings anything fresh to the discussion about social media. The character of Gibson’s rise is closely tied to Instagram’s popularity. Apple Cider Vinegar frequently uses emojis streaming from a phone or computer as a symbol for online posting, suggesting that Belle values these digital expressions more than the actual people she claims to help heal. It’s possible that the series shares this shallow regard for authentic human connection.

Towards the end of the series titled “Apple Cider Vinegar“, there’s a significant scene focusing on an exposé article about Belle that is published. The journalists become fixated on reading and re-reading the comments section, waiting for opinion to shift against their subject. This moment is portrayed as heroic, yet it raises questions about the true purpose of journalism. When Smith’s character’s wife decides to jump into the comments and criticize Belle – a character she previously defended – it becomes a critique on the obsession with pleasing faceless commenters. In this instance, the show offers its sharpest satire unintentionally. Is our goal in exposing scammers merely to garner approval from commenters? Are we all just performing for likes and emojis?

The series also tries to alleviate concerns that by retelling Belle Gibson’s story, we are only giving her more attention she desires. At the start of each episode, an actor provides a recap to the camera and emphasizes that Belle Gibson has not been compensated for the rights to the story. However, isn’t simply placing her back in the spotlight considered payment?

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2025-02-05 21:54