Being a mom is tough, especially when you’re trying to have a career, and at the core of All Her Fault are the slings and arrows that women face for daring to have ambitions of their own, for leaving their kids in others’ care, and for (wrongly) assuming that their husbands will shoulder an equal load.
An anxious kidnapping story that’s about fathers, spouses, and brothers doing their damnedest to control their female counterparts (often by telling them that such domination is, in fact, good for them and what they want), Megan Gallagher’s eight-part Peacock limited is a feminist rallying cry masquerading as a melodramatic thriller. It’s also, more importantly, the soapiest of TV affairs, its every twist and turn so outlandish that each surprise elicits a hearty chuckle.
Adapted from Andrea Mara’s novel of the same name, All Her Fault, premiering Nov. 6, wastes no time getting to its central crime, with financial services bigwig Marissa Irvine (Sarah Snook) arriving at a house to pick up her five-year-old son Milo (Duke McCloud) from a playdate. Instead, she discovers that Milo isn’t there, and the residence’s owner Esther (Linda Cropper) doesn’t know him—nor is she related to Jenny (Dakota Fanning), a book-marketing executive whose boy Jacob was supposed to be with Milo that afternoon.
Concern turns quickly to full-blown alarm, and as Marissa is joined by her husband Peter (Jake Lacy), the police leap into action, with detectives Alcarez (Michael Peña) and Greco (Johnny Carr) spearheading the search for the kid, who was reportedly signed out at the school and whose tracker (in his backpack) is offline.
The couple are comforted by Marissa’s best friend and colleague Colin (Jay Ellis) as well as Peter’s sister Lia (Abby Elliott) and brother Brian (Daniel Monks), the former a recovering drug addict and the latter a disabled man who’s employed by, and lives in the guesthouse of, his sibling.
Peter has a reputation for taking care of everyone, and yet he’s incapable of fixing this situation, even once Alcarez and Greco determine that Milo was grabbed by Carrie Finch (Sophia Lillis), Jenny’s nanny. In short order, Marissa is slandered in the media for being an absentee mom who prizes her career over her maternal duties—something even Peter, in a stressful moment, expresses. Jenny suffers similar disparagement for her negligent hiring of a sitter who’s clearly a fraud, all as she deals with a husband, Richie (Thomas Cocquerel), who acts annoyed whenever he’s asked to watch his kid and resents his wife for having a job.
Gallagher’s series bombards its female protagonists with unfair troubles, from Marissa and Jenny being judged for their professional desires (and using nannies to manage their lives) and coping with partners who leave the heavy lifting to them (even though their vocations are equally important), to Jenny being harassed by gossipy school mom Sarah (Lauren Grimson) about fundraiser volunteering.
The double standards are clear and outrageous in All Her Fault, and as Marissa and Jenny are made to feel crazy for being working moms, they strive to locate Milo, who’s been snatched for initially mysterious reasons by the scheming Carrie. More tantalizing still, Alcarez and Greco deduce that the kidnapping was an inside job—meaning that every one of the show’s characters is a suspect.
All Her Fault is a beach read-y yarn overflowing with ominous suggestions and wannabe-stunning shocks, and its highly charged atmosphere, coupled with solid turns from its stars, keeps it imminently watchable. Alcarez and Greco’s investigation focuses on numerous individuals as possible culprits, including Marissa and Peter’s nanny Ana (Kartiah Vergara), whose trustworthiness is called into question when she starts lying about her relationship with Carrie.
From one episode to the next, the show casts an incriminating light in multiple directions, and though most of its early intimations are destined to turn out to be red herrings, Gallagher’s plotting is juicy enough to maintain a sense of urgency.
Between Snook’s frazzled desperation, Lacy’s overbearing rationality, and Fanning’s pent-up frustration, All Her Fault’s performances contribute to the action’s anxiety and despair, and for a time, the material maintains mystery about Carrie’s motive for abducting Milo. Shadowy co-conspirators abound. Yet none of the series’ early hints quite prepare one for the lunacy of its later installments, during which deep, dark secrets are exposed, which are so silly, it’s difficult not to greet them with incredulous laughter.
Marissa’s (and, to a lesser extent, Jenny’s) guilt, regret, and self-loathing are the relatable entry points into All Her Fault, but Gallagher’s tale is ultimately designed as a guessing game that ups the ante, and pulls the rug out from beneath its audience, at regular intervals. In that regard, it’s modestly successful, no matter that it means leaving plausibility behind.
Moderate suspension of disbelief is a given with such bubbly ventures, and Gallagher pushes the envelope as far as she can take it. While that makes the show little more than a bit of humorously frothy nonsense, it keeps the proceedings engaging on a moment-to-moment basis.
Aided by Snook and Fanning’s compelling portrayal of marginalized women struggling to maintain agency in a world that wants to consign them to homemaker roles (and malign them for not complying), All Her Fault is tailor-made to appeal to its female-demographic target audience, and its button-pushing is expertly integrated into its over-the-top thriller mechanics.
In a streaming landscape that’s rife with such offerings, the series mostly differentiates itself from the pack via its excellent headliners—who take this story far more seriously than it deserves—and by embracing the finale’s goofiest elements with gusto.
By its conclusion, it may not care much about reality, but that’s only a minor problem given the uproariousness of its portrait of justice, vengeance, and women finding a way—despite the chauvinists attempting to keep them down—to have their cake and eat it too.
The post ‘Succession’ Star Sarah Snook Suffers Every Parent’s Worst Nightmare in ‘All Her Fault’ appeared first on The Daily Beast.
