Apple Cider Vinegar is loosely inspired by the true story of Belle Gibson, a former health influencer who authored books, blogs, and entire digital spaces dedicated to wholesome eating and alternative medicine. Many controversies about online celebrities emerged in an era where the ethics of posting misleading pieces have been debated, given the novelty of the digital platform. However, Gibson’s situation was far more cut-and-dry. In addition to false claims about her diagnosis with several forms of cancer, Gibson lied about the percentage of her profits given to charitable foundations.
Apple Cider Vinegar is consistent with the stylistic trends within multiple Netflix projects; the poppy, candy-colored visuals are broadly similar to “eat the rich” satires like The Perfect Couple and Sirens, and the narrativized condensation of history isn’t dissimilar from more prestigious shows like The Crown and Narcos. However, Apple Cider Vinegar doesn’t take a deliberately comedic approach to a situation where the joke is so evident; a fraudster with no expertise, evidence, or experience grew a following dedicated to her teachings, even when her advice directly contradicted that of the medical community. The irony of such a transparent crisis would’ve been amusing, but Apple Cider Vinegar has the boldness to tie Gibson’s con artistry to a legitimate tragedy.
The co-lead of Apple Cider Vinegar is Alycia Debnam-Carey as another alternative medicine promoter, Milla Blake, who was inspired by the real wellness entrepreneur Jessica Ainscough. After success as a teenage magazine editor, Ainscough became a celebrated blogger, whose personal anecdotes about alternative cancer treatments spat in the face of the medical establishment. Given the debate about American healthcare that raged during Ainscough’s time in the spotlight, her defiance of traditional prescriptions turned her into a millennial hero and a feminist icon. If Gibson’s fate was ironic, then Ainscough’s was cruel; after being joined by celebrity investors in a series of “Weekend Warrior Wellness” events, Ainscough died from a fungating lesion at 29.
The connection between Ainscough and Gibson may have been tangential in real life, but Apple Cider Vinegar’s assertion is that they were cut from the same cloth. Although Gibson’s intentions may have been selfish from the start, she nonetheless recognized that the struggles she faced as a young mother weren’t enough to generate sympathy; she had to invent a broader sense of victimization. It’s likely that Apple Cider Vinegar made Blake distinct enough from Ainscough in order to deepen its analysis of narcissism; although Blake thinks that her misfortune has made her special, she’s too self-centered to recognize that many others have suffered in silence from the same diagnosis.
The melodramatic moments of Apple Cider Vinegar may annoy those who’ve already reached their capacity for the distinctly millennial desire for exceptionalism, but to imply any other motivations would have robbed the series of its gravity. This wasn’t a situation that provided catharsis to anyone, as even those that smugly noted the contradictions within Gibson’s story weren’t heartless enough to revel in the lives that were lost. At times, the rejection of both civility and reality is amplified. A sequence in which Blake berated a waiter for their lack of disclosure on organic products may have felt like the epitome of a millennial’s susceptibility to offense, but it’s sold by the belligerence of Debnam-Carey’s articulation. Blake’s become so devoted to her persona that she’s agitated whenever the world does not bend to her rules.
The personal lives of Blake and Gibson are the weakest part of Apple Cider Vinegar; while the generic series of breakups and family squabbles may have been kept straightforward to indicate how little substance there was to their facades, it doesn’t make it any more interesting to watch, especially when Apple Cider Vinegar is only six episodes long. Although there’s nothing noteworthy about the depiction of social media (which has been examined more creatively in shows like Atlanta and Silicon Valley), the use of pop music is an effective tool to indicate the values of its protagonists. Although obvious, Britney Spears’ “Toxic” is the perfect personification of vapid egotism.
Even when Apple Cider Vinegar is too pointed in its message to sustain the fluidity of its narrative, Dever’s performance is justification for the show. Ironically, Dever appeared earlier this year in The Last of Us as Abby, an anti-hero that conquered the wrath of a fanbase after she killed a fan-favorite character. It’s to Dever’s credit that in her depiction of a real figure once followed by thousands, she created an even more loathsome performance.