Surface, to West’s credit, does not repeat the error.
She’s best known for the 2020 TV adaptation of Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity, which had its moments, despite egregiously miscasting Zoë Kravitz (another Big Little Lies alum) as a nerdy, lovelorn muso. It’s no surprise to see an exec producer credit here for Big Little Lies’ Reese Witherspoon (her 2020 show Little Fires Everywhere was more of the same), but creator-showrunner Veronica West should have been an unpredictable element. And that repetitive imagery would be more forgivable if Surface’s slow plot didn’t feel equally waterlogged. That initial image of Sophie sinking down, down into the sea’s murky depths, then waking from her nightmare, head nestled on a silk pillow is the same “drowning woman” visual metaphor, rendered in the same watery blues and greys, that we’ve seen a hundred times before. Those thick-rimmed specs may inspire confidence (they’re reminiscent of the Guardian’s own agony aunt, Philippa Perry), but this woman clearly can’t be trusted.Īll this is obvious since, from the opening shot onwards, Surface is a paint-by-numbers psychological thriller. And certainly not the disapproving therapist, Hannah, played by Marianne Jean Baptiste. Not her bestie Caroline (Ari Graynor), whose pseudo-sympathetic head tilt is a body language red-flag. Who can Sophie confide in about her troubles? Not the sexy undercover cop (Stephan James) who she always seems to bump into on her daily, sweat-free jog – his interest in her case may be more than merely professional. And herein likes the series’ central mystery, as Sophie helpfully signposts during a therapy session: “If my life was so perfect, why did I try to end it?” Some months ago, Sophie lost her memory after – apparently – jumping off the side of a ferry in an attempted suicide. In Surface the main gorgeous rich person is Sophie (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), the indifferent owner of a grand San Francisco home (one of those Lower Haight Victorians, for architecture fans), a walk-in wardrobe brimming with designer clothing and a diary packed with nothing but social engagements.
(Or at least, the first three episodes on demand, with the rest debuting weekly.) What do we want? Gorgeous, rich people being miserable. Few, though, have distilled the sub-genre’s appeal as crudely as Surface (Apple TV+). In 2017, Big Little Lies spilled the scandalous secrets of wealthy women in multimillion-dollar beachside properties, and inspired a slew of imitators – most of them also starring Nicole Kidman. ‘C lass envy” may have limited use as political analysis, but it’s a solid basis for a TV drama.