Not only has Netflix become synonymous with an ever-expanding archive of original series and films, but it has also solidified its place as the undisputed champion of true-crime documentaries, particularly those that delve into the dark world of serial killers, con artists, and societal frauds. With riveting titles like Inventing Anna; the saga of Anna Delvey, the Russian socialite who deceived New York’s elite into funding her luxurious life; a pattern has emerged of stories that not only entertain, but also serve as cautionary tales. Enter Apple Cider Vinegar, a new Australian miniseries, which, much like its predecessors, uncovers a deeply unsettling true story, this time about a woman who faked illness for profit, rather than prestige.
Premiering exclusively on Netflix, Apple Cider Vinegar is the brainchild of Anya Beyersdorf and Angela Betzien, with the creative direction of Samantha Strauss. Directed by Jeffrey Walker (known for Modern Family and Bones), the show tells the twisted tale of Belle Gibson, an Australian woman whose elaborate scam involved pretending to suffer from terminal cancers and various other maladies in order to sell her “healing” organic food app. Based on Beau Donelly and Nick Toscano’s book The Woman Who Fooled The World, the series charts Gibson’s rise from a tragic fraudster to a media sensation, all while leaving a wake of devastation in her pursuit of fame and fortune.
At the center of this morally complicated story is the character of Belle, brought to life with haunting precision by Kaitlyn Dever (Booksmart, Short Term 12). Dever’s portrayal of Gibson is an exercise in controlled chaos, a woman whose need for validation drives her to manipulate those around her in the most calculated, yet pitiable, ways. Throughout the series, we witness her destructive rise and fall, often through the eyes of Clive (Ashley Zuckerman), a man with fragile self-esteem who is emotionally and practically ensnared by Gibson’s machinations. Their toxic relationship becomes emblematic of the broader, more insidious forces at play: the way fraudsters seduce not just with promises of riches, but with the simpler, more insidious currency of human connection.
Yet Apple Cider Vinegar is not only the story of Belle’s manipulations. It also intertwines with the tragic, real-life story of Milla Blake (Alycia Debnam-Carey of Fear The Walking Dead), whose desperate quest for an alternative cure to cancer parallels the very essence of wellness fraud. Based on the story of Jessica Ainscough, a woman who turned her cancer diagnosis into an internet sensation, Milla advocates for a diet of juicing and coffee enemas as a miracle cure, attracting a following of other vulnerable individuals who, like her, are searching for hope where conventional medicine falls short. Unlike Belle, whose deceit is calculated and malicious, Milla is portrayed as someone who may understand deep down that she’s selling a lie, but does so in the name of hope and self-deception.
WATCH APPLE CIDER VINEGAR ON NETFLIX
In juxtaposing these two fraudulent figures; Belle, a sociopath who exploits illness for profit, and Milla, a tragic figure driven by a misplaced desire to heal and be healed; Apple Cider Vinegar offers a searing commentary on the wellness industry’s dangerous confluence of snake-oil salesmanship and public desperation. Where Belle’s veneer of success becomes increasingly polished and unconvincing with each passing episode, Milla’s decline, both physical and mental, is marked by a disturbing fragility. Each woman’s narrative is tragically entangled with the very thing that fuels them; the vulnerability of others.
The series’ clever structure; a non-linear timeline between 2009 and 2015, gradually unravels these threads, often punctuated by ironic asides in which the characters directly address the camera, mockingly reminding us that Netflix has never paid Belle Gibson for the rights to her story. This metatextual touch, while occasionally playful, only amplifies the bitter taste of the tale. We know the tragedy here is not just in the scams themselves, but in the lives lost or forever altered by these deceitful enterprises. The more the audience learns about these women, the more infuriating it becomes, yet the show’s sharp editing and fast pace compel you to watch on, if only to witness their inevitable downfall.
Dever and Debnam-Carey deliver stellar performances that strike an emotional chord, one that grows heavier as the series progresses. Apple Cider Vinegar is, in the end, a true-crime drama that not only unveils the heartless nature of these frauds, but examines the deeply human motivations behind them. It is a chilling exploration of how easy it is to manipulate people in the digital age; both out of their money and, more tragically, their lives. Yet, with its quick-witted tone and razor-sharp performances, the series is also compulsively watchable, making it impossible to look away from the unraveling lies.
In Apple Cider Vinegar, Netflix has once again crafted a compelling docudrama, one that balances horrifying reality with the type of binge-able storytelling that has made the platform a leader in both entertainment and scandalous exposés. If nothing else, the series is a cautionary reminder that the pursuit of fame can be as toxic as the very wellness remedies it seeks to peddle.
