A twisted plot overwhelms the characters

“Disclaimer,” Apple TV+’s new miniseries, has no shortage of temptations. They begin with a cast led by Cate Blanchett, Kevin Kline, Sacha Baron Cohen, Lesley Manville and Kodi Smit-McPhee. That's three Oscar winners as an actor (two Blanchetts, one Kline) and nine other nominations. But who's counting?

It's based on a proudly pulpy, gleeful bestseller: Renée Knight's 2015 novel of the same name. And the narrative splits between a surprisingly picturesque London (oh, those World of Interiors-worthy digs from Blanchett and Cohen's married couple characters Catherine and Robert Ravenscroft) and a sun-drenched Italy that is even more picturesque. Bellissimo? Si, molto, molto bellissimo. Speaking of set design: one of the two cameramen is the phenomenal Emmanuel Lubezki (three Oscars, but who's counting?).

Best of all, Alfonso Cuarón directed and wrote the screenplay for the adaptation. Cuarón's credits include Y tu mamá también (2001), Children of Men (2006) and Gravity (2013). However, he hasn't directed anything since Roma (2018). So add anticipation to the temptation — and, yes, four Oscars.

“Disclaimer” has seven episodes. The first two are available starting today, with one releasing on subsequent Fridays through November 8th. Based on these first two episodes, perhaps the temptation should be put on hold.

Things begin with a young couple on vacation in Italy. Also, a woman is on vacation with her little son. Twenty years later, viewers learn that this woman is an award-winning documentary filmmaker (Blanchett) who is married to the head of a human rights organization (Cohen). The couple's young man is the son of a teacher (Kline) and his wife (Manville).

There's a lot of – no, do that a lot – to commute back and forth between what was then Italy and what is now London. In London there are some additional time shifts and an almost constant switching back and forth between the main characters. To clarify things, Cuarón hires a voice-over narrator. Unfortunately, this narrator (Indira Varma) sounds a lot like Blanchett's smoky, authoritarian contralto voice. Therefore, at least in the first episode if not longer, viewers will likely assume that it is her character we are hearing. This assumption is further reinforced by the fact that Kline's character is given his own voice. Instead of sorting the increasing convolution, the convolution just grows.

Cuarón's filmmaking is extremely assured – no surprise – with lots of tracking shots and handheld camera work. But a bit of cleverness turns into a visual tic. To show the shifts from Italy and later to London, he uses an iris photograph, a device commonly used in the still period, in which a scene ends with a contracting circle.

Kline, normally such a wonderfully dynamic actor, is miscast as the teacher, and his furry, somewhat English accent is the least of it. Cohen is almost unrecognizable as a proper husband, which is meant as a compliment. As for Blanchett, it's not until the final episode that she's able to truly enter Blanchett mode. When she does – well, let's just say she has an extended monologue that any actor would kill for, and she does it justice.

For a filmmaker, plots full of twists present two obvious challenges: clarity and plausibility. Cuarón handles the first quite well, the second less so. This may be due to another, less obvious challenge. The characters in such storylines are usually afterthoughts. A lot of unpleasant things happen in “Disclaimer.” That's okay, because unpleasant things have a positive effect on the pace of the narrative. The problem is that the unsympathetic things are done by or are done to such consistently unsympathetic people. Caring about what happens next and why is puzzle solving. Caring about the people involved is something more. Unfortunately, “disclaimer” is a little less, but who’s counting?

Mark Feeney can be reached at [email protected].