Talk about an overheated, splintering, dysfunctional family!
Cape Fear
The first two episodes debut Friday, June 5, 2026, exclusively on Apple TV. Subsequent episodes of the 10-episode series will premiere every Friday. I've seen the first eight episodes.
Created for television by Nick Antosca (A Friend of the Family, Cherry), the new Cape Fear borrows freely from previous cinematic adaptations of John D. MacDonald's novel The Executioners, first published in 1957; namely, J. Lee Thompson's 1962 version and Martin Scorsese's 1991 version.
Indeed, Bernard Hermann's memorably bombastic opening theme from the 1962 version is used for the opening titles here, which play out after a very nasty opening scene, while Elmer Bernstein's adaptation and arrangements for the 1991 version are also utilized like periodic explosions of dynamite in the series. It plays as though series creator Nick Antosca is making a gleeful declaration of independence: 'Yes, here is what inspired me to make a new, even more twisted version, using characters you think you know.'
In the original novel and the two previous adaptations, for example, Max Cady was portrayed as a convicted rapist who, upon completing his prison sentence, promptly begins terrorizing the lawyer he holds responsible, as well as his wife and children. (The series restores the son in MacDonald's novel, who was not included in either film adaptation.)
In the new version, after being convicted of killing his wife and son, Max Cady's would-be amour confesses to the crimes and commits suicide, leaving behind evidence that frees Max. Seeds of suspicion are planted, though, because the woman receives a call on her cell phone after she's shot herself, urging her to finish the deed, whereupon she shoots herself again. (Cell phones and other modern technology are instrumental elements in the series.)
Embodied with hulking charm by Javier Bardem, Max Cady proclaims his innocence, yet continues to walk, talk, and speak with quiet menace. Is he truly a murderer? Or is he an innocent man who was wrongly convicted?
The latter possibility plays right into the arena where Anna Bowden (Amy Adams) lives. She was Max Cady's defense attorney. Years have passed since that trial. Anna is still an attorney, now working with a legal aid group, led by Noa Toussaint (CCH Pounder), that seeks the release of wrongly convicted prisoners. Her husband Tom (Patrick Wilson) is also an attorney.
They have two teenage children. Natalie (Lily Collias, excellent in India Donaldson's Good One, 2024) gets good grades and is considered a "perfect" student. Zack (Joe Anders) is obviously a troubled child; he did something bad to a fellow student the previous year that got him into hot water that sent him into therapy.
Anna and Tom appear to have a happy, stable marriage, though Zack's continued moodiness and secretive nature signals that more troubles are brewing for the family. Other warning signs arise even earlier: Anna and Tom exchange alarmed expressions upon hearing of Max Cady's sudden release from prison.
Nick Antosca and the writers, including André Jacquemetton and Maria Jacquemetton (Mad Men), create a gallery of aggressively unhappy people to populate the series. Both Anna and Tom appear to have been carrying a large amount of guilt for some unspecified reason. It's stuffed deep inside their souls, but it dictates their every action. Thus, they suspect everyone of acting the same as them, so, of course, no one can be trusted, not even their children.
In order to justify expanding the novel into a 10-hour miniseries, more characters are added into the brew, along with many more complications and twists, which add further wrinkles to what was a rather straightforward narrative of a murderous man seeking revenge against an innocent family defending themselves.
Instead, Cape Fear (2026) plums the depths of guilt and innocence. Initially, it labors excessively to establish reasons to believe that Max Cady is an innocent man who was unfairly railroaded into a long prison sentence. Nearly everyone outside the Bowden family believes that Max Cady deserves sympathy for his suffering; it's only Anna and Tom who consistently maintain their private belief in his guilt, yet, for the sake of appearances, their children, and their own careers, they feel compelled to defend or even befriend him in public.
Their initial gut reaction that, surely, Max Cady must be responsible for all the trouble that is befalling them, eventually mellows to some extent. In future episodes, they will be faced with complicating factors that, if anything, are even more disturbing.
For now, it's a fun game to pick out the influences and the digressions from the original source material and the previous screen adaptations. Under the expert direction of Morton Tyldum (Headhunters, Apple TV's Silo), the first episode is awash in overbearing, over-amped, hysterical style, from slamming camera pans to smash cuts and an overabundance of everything that reminded me of Scorsese's version, which pushed every button to 11.
The stylistic overkill in Episode 1 sets a template that the other directors -- S.J. Clarkson, Amanda Marsalis, Reed Moran, Steven Piet, Trey Edward Shults *, Jon S. Baird, and Stephen Williams -- follow in succeeding episodes, with minor tweaks and buzzes to mark them as distinctively their own.
* Shults' direction of Episode 6 is a real head-turner.
While the actions of the characters do not always ring true, their authenticity is not the question: It's how they fit into the narrative that Antosca is weaving, in which one of the most profoundly evil characters in movie history has been modified into a sometimes-charming, always-menacing presence who may not look exactly like Chigurh in No Country for Old Men, but could very well be his cousin, what with his evil eyes glowing like the Devil himself. (The series' conclusion about his innocence/guilt for the murder of his wife and son are not answered in the eight episodes that were made available in advance for preview.)
Most of the series pits Amy Adams as the heroic, if flawed, savior of her family and defender of mankind against Max Cady, and Amy Adams is spectacular in her ability to capture her character's courage, sheer desperation and indomitable spirit, whether she's shouting or conversing or whispering. Patrick Wilson has the unenviable task of being, in effect, the third wheel, but there are definitely moments and even entire sequences where he dominates the action in convincing fashion. That makes him a very worthy ally and/or opponent.
As their children, Lily Collias is superbly relatable and emotionally dextrous as a teenager who sees her relationship with her parents evolving unexpectedly as the series progresses; Joe Anders is frustratingly uncertain in a manner that will be instantly understandable to anyone who must deal with and/or try to love an opaque teen. Both are scary good in their roles.
Lies, secrets, and repurcussions run rampant in Cape Fear, where everyone's motives are always suspect. Trust no one; watch your back.