All Her Fault Is Absolute Nonsense

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If you’re a parent, get ready to be seriously creeped out by Peacock’s All Her Fault. The movie starts with a terrifying situation: you arrive at a playdate, but the person at the door doesn’t recognize your child or his friend. Things quickly get worse – the other mom’s phone number is disconnected, and the school representative says your son isn’t with the friend you think he is. To top it off, when you finally reach the woman you thought picked up your child, she has no idea about any playdate.

The new thriller series All Her Fault, based on Andrea Mara’s popular novel, gets off to a shaky start – and doesn’t improve. The entire 8-episode season drops on November 6th, but be warned: it’s poorly written and confusing, making it hard to follow. Creator Megan Gallagher overemphasizes the show’s themes, constantly hitting viewers over the head with them. Despite a strong cast – including Sarah Snook of Succession and Jake Lacy of The White Lotus – their talents are wasted in roles that feel like rehashes of their previous work. Ultimately, the biggest problem with the show is that it’s preachy and, unlike most thrillers, just isn’t very enjoyable.

The show’s title, All Her Fault, immediately makes you wonder who “her” refers to. The most obvious possibility is Marissa Irvine (Snook), the mother who arrives to collect her son, Milo, on a rainy day. Marissa and her husband are successful in finance, making her a very busy mom and suggesting Milo might have been kidnapped for money. Another candidate is Jenny Kaminski (Dakota Fanning), the friend’s mother, who also works a lot. Jenny’s husband, Richie, doesn’t help with the kids at all. Both families employ nannies who could be the mysterious “her.” The Irvines’ nanny, Ana, has conveniently taken a vacation, and seems to be hiding something about her connection to the Kaminskis’ nanny, Carrie. It’s even possible that every female character could be “her,” meaning the show isn’t about one woman’s fault, but about the struggles faced by women in general.

Early in the season, the show heavily emphasizes a feminist message – though it’s not a particularly new one. It shows women succeeding in their careers and even being the primary earners in relationships, but suggests they shouldn’t expect equal help at home from partners like Richie or Jake. The series consistently portrays men as aggressive and women as victims. As the season progresses, one character, Jenny, mainly serves to point out obvious issues with societal expectations and gender roles. She repeatedly expresses frustration about always being responsible for everything, which feels like the show is simply trying to appeal to its female audience in a way that doesn’t really acknowledge their intelligence.

Ultimately, the series introduces several side characters and their own significant problems, but these storylines end up overshadowing the central question of whether women can truly ‘have it all’ without adding much depth. We meet Peter, who financially supports his sister, Lia, as she recovers from addiction, and his brother, Brian, who lives with a physical disability. The detective investigating the case, Alcaras, has a 13-year-old son, Sam, with developmental disabilities, and his parents struggle to afford the specialized school he needs. The Irvines also become involved with another addiction, this time through Marissa’s business partner, Colin, who struggles with gambling. The show seems to aim for a unified message by connecting these characters, highlighting issues like economic inequality, disability, and the challenges of addiction and rebuilding trust. However, these connections feel forced and don’t meaningfully impact the main plot, serving as distractions rather than genuine additions to the story.

The show boasts a talented cast including Snook, Lacy, Fanning, Peña, Elliott, and Ellis, which could have saved it from being truly bad. Unfortunately, none of these actors are given enough to work with. Snook and Lacy, usually so nuanced, are directed to be overly dramatic, with the camera lingering on their exaggerated reactions. The other actors are stuck playing shallow characters in a predictable plot. Elliott and Ellis are defined almost entirely by their characters’ addictions – and it’s hard to remember any meaningful moments for Brian that aren’t related to his disability. The strongest performance comes from Lillis, who brings a much-needed vulnerability to her role, helping to cover up some of the character’s weaknesses.

From the start, the show’s pacing feels off, like it’s wandering aimlessly and stretching things out unnecessarily. The second-to-last episode throws a series of increasingly unbelievable twists at the audience, straining credibility. This episode also makes the show’s previously subtle negative portrayal of poor and mentally ill characters much more overt, even while occasionally seeming to advocate for them. Several characters warn you that something shocking is about to happen, and it often feels unbelievable. While surprises are good in a mystery, the story still needs to be somewhat logical.

While All Her Fault has a few good moments – particularly the acting and seeing Sarah Snook in a new style after Succession – the most touching part is the realistic and loving relationship between a detective and his son, who has special needs. The show portrays parents who genuinely cherish their child’s personality, not just fulfill a duty. However, these positives aren’t enough to overcome the show’s weaknesses, especially with so many similar thrillers available. If you’re a fan of the genre, it might be best to wait for a better option to appear on streaming. If you watch it now, you’ll only have yourself to blame if you’re disappointed.

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2025-11-06 22:06