| N |
etflix’s Apple Cider Vinegar takes on the unsettling true story of Belle Gibson, an Australian influencer who built an entire wellness empire on a lie. She convinced thousands of people that she had terminal brain cancer and had miraculously cured herself using natural remedies, including apple cider vinegar. It was a story that made her a star in the wellness world, leading to a best-selling app, a book deal and partnerships with major brands. But none of it was true.
The show traces Gibson’s rapid rise and inevitable downfall, showing how she created an image that people desperately wanted to believe in. Played by Kaitlyn Dever, she comes across as effortlessly convincing, shifting from vulnerable to self-assured depending on who she is talking to. That ability to shape reality to suit her needs is what made her so dangerous. She did not just lie. She created a movement; one that encouraged people to abandon medical treatments in favour of unproven alternative therapies.
Apple Cider Vinegar also turns the lens on the people caught in the web of Belle’s deception, whether as victims, enablers or sceptics. Milla, played by Liv Hewson, is a real cancer survivor who built her success through strength and authenticity, while Belle watched from the sidelines, using her story as inspiration for her own fake persona. Chanelle, a former friend and manager, starts to see through the deception and struggles with the guilt for introducing Belle to real cancer patients. Justin and Sean, two journalists investigating her, begin uncovering inconsistencies in her story and work to expose the truth. Lucy, a fan and the wife of Justin, battling breast cancer, believes in Belle’s advice until she realises she has been misled. Even Belle’s mother, Natalie, publicly turns against her, forcing Belle to face a reality she refuses to accept.
The most unsettling part of the show is how easily people bought into Belle’s story. It was not just desperate individuals looking for hope. The media, tech companies, even major corporations latched onto her brand without doing the bare minimum to verify her claims. Apple promoted her app as part of its Apple Watch launch. Publishers handed her book deals. Wellness influencers praised her as an inspiration. Even when cracks started appearingin her story, her followers were reluctant to believe she could be lying. The series captures that blind faith with an almost clinical detachment, letting the audience sit with the uncomfortable realisation of just how easy it is to manipulate people when you tell them what they want to hear.
The most unsettling part of the show is how easily people bought into Belle’s story. It was not just desperate individuals looking for hope. The media, tech companies, even major corporations latched onto her brand without doing the bare minimum to verify her claims.
Dever’s performance low-key terrifies the audience because she never plays Gibson as a straightforward con artist. She is not a cartoon villain, nor does the show suggest she was some kind of mastermind. Instead, it leaves room for ambiguity. Was she fully aware of what she was doing from the start? Did she begin to believe her own lies? Or was she simply someone who got in too deep and kept going, hoping it would never catch up to her? The show does not offer a simple answer, which makes it all the more disturbing.
That being said, Apple Cider Vinegar does a brilliant job of drawing focus to the broader issue at play. Gibson may have been an extreme case, but the culture that allowed her to thrive still exists. The wellness industry is full of unverified health claims and social media rewards those who package their advice most compellingly, regardless of whether it is true or not. The show makes it clear that Gibson was not just a liar. She was just a product of a system that encourages this kind of deception.
Each episode strips away asense of comfort, making it increasingly uneasy to sit through. The initial episodes have a slick, almost aspirational quality to them, mirroring the curated perfection of Gibson’s online persona. But as the truth unravels, that gloss starts to fade. By the final episode, there is no denying the damage she caused. The people who trusted her, who followed her advice instead of seeking medical treatment, are not just abstract statistics. They are real, and their suffering is something Gibson never fully reckoned with.
Apple Cider Vinegar is a frustrating but necessary watch. It does not reinvent the true crime drama and it could have gone further in examining the psychology behind its subject. But it tells an important story about the dangers of blind trust and the ease with which misinformation spreads. At a time when health advice is increasingly shaped by influencers rather than experts, it is a stark reminder of the need to question where that advice is coming from.
The author is afreelance writer