Film and TV Editor John O’Connor reviews Alfonso Cuarón’s Disclaimer* and discusses the danger of disinformation in a new world where truth is only a suggestion
Disclaimer* begins with a warning: “Beware of narrative and form; [...] they can be a weapon with great power to manipulate.” This warning has never been as relevant as it is today. In a time of increasingly untrustworthy journalism, where the spread of false information is an unquenchable fire, where truth on social media is a mere suggestion, Disclaimer* takes a microscope to these issues - its answers evolving with every episode, or changing just as you have come up with your own.
Based on the novel of the same name, written by Renee Knight, Disclaimer*, the seven part limited TV series, is a cautionary tale about the manipulative power of narrative which follows Catherine Ravenscroft (Cate Blanchett), a television documentary journalist whose work has been built on revealing the transgressions of long-respected institutions. However, as the series progresses it is Catherine’s own transgressions as a long respected journalist that are revealed, as her life slowly begins to unravel.
Through the merging of timelines, multiple distorted points of view and the exquisite and dream-like imagery we are reminded of narrative and forms ability to manipulate the masses.
As a cryptic and enigmatic novel appears on her doorstep, written by grieving and sorrowful widower Stephen Brigstocke (Kevin Kline), Catherine is horrified to realise she is the main character of a reimagined story that she had hoped was long buried, revealing her darkest secret.
Through the merging of timelines, multiple distorted points of view and the exquisite and dream-like imagery captured by cinematographers Bruno Delbonnel and Emmanuel Lubezki we are reminded of narrative and forms ability to manipulate the masses, something Disclaimer* does visibly but carefully. Lies are sold as truths easily bought by many if the image is beautiful and appealing enough, if the message is convincing and attractive enough. As the lines between past and present, between truth and fiction, begin to blur, Cuarón exposes the mistruths of the characters in these convincing little packages for the audience to rip apart and examine.
However, Cuarón’s intention is not to mislead the viewer or lie, simply to present all ‘truths’ as true. Cuarón says “[we] present everything in a way that if you see the whole [show] again you see an eloquence, you have a difficult understanding of every single motivation and gestures of each one of the characters. It’s not that we are playing games and tricking [people].”
A cautionary tale told in the beautiful visual language which we have become accustomed to from Cuarón and his usual collaborators.
The presentation of all these ‘truths’ as the truth is done cleverly through the use of narration, particularly character Stephen Brigstocke’s narration, who sees himself as truth personified and is now on a dark journey of revenge. Each character declares their own truths, each one contradicting the other, such a conflict finds its real world counterpart in the news networks of today; all stating different 'facts', promising sincerity, each insisting that they are correct. Each foaming at the mouth to claim that only they are correct. A discordant choir of ‘truth’.
Cuarón’s newest masterpiece is not simply art for art’s sake. It is a reminder, a warning. A cautionary tale told in the beautiful visual language which we have become accustomed to from Cuarón and his usual collaborators. Blanchett portrays Catherine Ravenscroft with a remoteness which effectively captures her tumultuous and seemingly isolated life. Leslie Manville, who plays the wife of Kevin Kline’s Stephen Brigstocke and a mother coming to terms with her son's death, brings an emotional weight which the series demands.
Upon completing all seven parts of Disclaimer* I found myself transported back to the original warning to “Beware of narrative and form”; a weapon of the modern day. Then, a new warning slowly moves off screen and into my mind, rearing its ugly head: Beware of what you do not know, but above all else, beware of what has been presented to you already as the truth.
Because it might not be.