Peacock’s ‘Apples’ falls short despite solid core
All Liane Moriarty book adaptations look alike.
You have the famous cast, the mysterious setting, the time jumps, the infighting and, of course, the big (little) twists. But even with all the right ingredients, the finished dish might end up like Hulu’s undercooked 2021 series “Nine Perfect Strangers” instead of HBO’s delectable 2017 hit “Big Little Lies.”
Is the third time the charm for Moriarty adaptations? Well, not really. This time Peacock is bringing one of the Australian author’s books to life: 2021’s “Apples Never Fall.” In story and tone, the series (all episodes now streaming, ★★☆☆) hews closer to “Lies” than “Strangers.” And it almost gives you those butterflies of excitement again, at first.
“Apples” is an intimate tale of one family, the Delaneys, a Palm Beach, Florida, tennis dynasty rocked when their matriarch Joy (Annette Bening) disappears. Is her husband Stan (Sam Neil) to blame? Was it the couple’s recent oddly mysterious houseguest Savannah (Georgia Flood)? What do the four adult Delaney children (Alison Brie, Jake Lacy, Conor Merrigan-Turner and Essie Randles) even know about their parents?
It’s an enticing mystery made all the more compelling by the performances of the talented cast, particularly stalwarts Bening and Neill. But while the series starts strong and captures your interest for five of its seven episodes, by the finale all the exhilaration of domestic mystery collapses. It’s more disappointing than angering – the miniseries had the potential to take your breath away. Instead, you may wander away before you finish.
Stan and Joy Delaney have it all, or so it seems. Retired tennis coaches, they have a beautiful house, rich friends and four grown children who appear to dote on their parents. There’s Amy (Brie), a flaky free spirit; Troy (Lacy), a high-powered finance bro with a superiority complex; Logan (Merrigan-Turner), a commitmentphobic marina worker; and stubborn Brooke (Randles), a struggling physical therapist amid a very long engagement. But it’s not all fun and tennis matches as they become the subject of a police investigation into Joy’s disappearance. Dark family secrets and dynamics unfurl as the four children start to wonder if their genial father might have the capacity to murder.
And then there’s Savannah, a selfdescribed victim of domestic abuse who shows up one night on the Delaneys’ doorstep and somehow is invited to linger for weeks. Surely she has to be involved somehow?
The best parts of “Apples” are about family dynamics. Moriarty excels at revealing the seediest parts of life, so hidden under supposed normality you can see yourself and your family in all that darkness. Series creator Melanie Marnich (“The Affair”) captures this with the help of the actors, each hiding something behind their blinding Crest Whitestrips smiles. Lacy manages to find the vulnerability in Troy’s uber-dude facade. Brie, accustomed to playing Type-A characters, has a lot of fun with Amy’s hippie-dippie aesthetic. Neill balances the fine line between gruff and cruel, a symbol of baby boomer stereotypes without seeming derivative.
But the star is Bening, who has the overworked, overwrought and underappreciated Joy down pat from her first appearance. Her complaints about marriage and motherhood are universal but no less valid for their ubiquity. That her children only start to appreciate her when she’s gone is no coincidence.
There’s a lot of talent in one (fictional) family, but the material doesn’t always match the performances. The book builds to a booming crescendo and then crashes into a quiet, unexpected but anticlimactic conclusion. It’s unsurprising that the writers opted to adjust the ending for the screen, but unfortunately, they don’t do enough to make it feel vital. “Apples” still wraps up with a lame whimper, even after the writers try to inject suspense into its final scenes.
With a more perfect cherry (or apple) on top of the sundae, “Apples” might have gotten closer to the greatness of “Lies.” Alas, it might end up another forgettable footnote in the streaming ecosystem, as ephemeral as the apple you forgot you had for breakfast yesterday.