A Detox Cleanse for Your Faith in Humanity
Ah, the wellness industry—where anyone with a ring light, a blender, and a complete disregard for medical ethics can convince millions that kale smoothies cure terminal illness. Enter Apple Cider Vinegar, a slick, unsettling dramatization of the Belle Gibson scam, reminding us all that, yes, people really did fall for this.
For those who skipped this particular chapter in Scams That Make You Lose Hope in Society, Gibson was an Australian influencer who skyrocketed to fame after claiming she had brain cancer and was totally healing it through clean eating, positive vibes, and probably a few overpriced essential oils. This led to a bestselling book, an app, and enough media appearances to make actual health experts grind their teeth into dust—until, surprise surprise, it turned out she made all of it up. No cancer. No miracle cure. And, worst of all, none of the charity donations she promised to cancer patients ever arrived. Belle didn’t just fake an illness; she profited off the suffering of real people.
Now, Hollywood has taken this horrifyingly real scam and turned it into Prestige TV: The Influencer Edition—and honestly? It kind of works.
Kaitlyn Dever, who’s on a mission to be in every prestige drama before The Last of Us makes her a household name, absolutely nails the role of Belle. She captures every part of the character—the jittery charm, the relentless need for validation, the kind of blind confidence only influencers and toddlers possess. Oh, and her Aussie accent? Flawless. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she actually was a former wellness scammer turned Netflix anti-hero.
But the smartest move Apple Cider Vinegar makes is realizing that Belle, for all her chaos, isn’t even the most interesting part of this mess. The show spends a lot of time fleshing out the people around her—like Milla (Alycia Debnam-Carey), an actual cancer patient whose reality is a painful contrast to Belle’s Instagram fabrications; and Chanelle (Aisha Dee), Belle’s ex-manager who figures out the scam too late and has to decide whether to help expose it.
By shifting focus to these characters, the series hammers home just how insidious Belle’s lies were. The real victims weren’t just the people who donated money—they were the desperate, the sick, and the hopeful, who wanted to believe in a miracle. And instead, they got a grift wrapped in pastel branding.
Visually, Apple Cider Vinegar is pure modern TV—quick cuts, surreal sequences, and an almost distracting amount of on-screen text to mimic social media feeds. The show’s got style for days, and it uses it well… most of the time.
But then there’s the timeline hopping. Oh, the timeline hopping. One minute, we’re at the peak of Belle’s influencer empire, the next, we’re in her childhood trauma flashbacks, then we’re in the future watching her scramble to keep the lie alive. It’s like watching someone scroll through their own life like it’s a chaotic Instagram story. The pacing is frantic, and while it keeps things engaging, it also makes it hard to get fully invested in any one moment before we’re yanked somewhere else.
For all its strengths—sharp performances, a compelling true story, and a well-aimed takedown of influencer culture—Apple Cider Vinegar doesn’t always dive as deep as it should. It wants to say something profound about the dangers of the wellness industry and social media deception, but sometimes it just feels like it’s skimming the surface, much like the very influencers it critiques.
That said, it’s still a fascinating, compulsively watchable look at a con so ridiculous, you’d think it was satire. But no. This actually happened.
So, what’s my diagnosis for this wellness shot of series? 3.5 out of 5 Bryans – Goes down easy, but don’t expect it to cure all its storytelling deficiencies.
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