All 8 Episodes of Apple TV+'s Anthology Series “Roar,” Ranked

Nicole Kidman stars a woman who’s dealing with her mother’s memory loss, all while balancing the demands of her own family. As a coping mechanism, she eats old photographs, which let her access memories – especially from her childhood – in a tactile way.

Though the premise of this episode is inventive and Kidman is always a great actor, the plot never really transcends or goes anywhere unexpected. The episode’s running time is a little longer than the others, and you really feel those extra minutes.

Betty Gilpin stars as a model who marries a rich man (Daniel Dae Kim). But instead of sharing a life together, he literally builds her a shelf to sit on in his office so that he can always admire her. After some hesitancy, she agrees to do it, and she spends years sitting up there like a doll.

This episode never really knows what to do with its magical-realism premise. The details don’t fully add up to a convincing world, and the tone feels all over the place. The ending also feels a little too simple for the conflict that comes before.

This episode is very different from the other seven – and not just because the title references a girl and not a woman. Fivel Stewart stars as a girl raised in the American West whose father is killed over a debt. Orphaned, she vows revenge. She’s helped by her religious school friend played by Kara Hayward, who urges her to not murder the man responsible (Alfred Molina).

This episode feels out of place with the others because it’s set in such a different time period. But Stewart and Hayward are sweet together and bring humour to the strange episode. It’s the only episode that feels like it has LGBTQ+ themes, but it never actually makes the jump from subtext to canon, which is disappointing.

Cynthia Erivo stars in this episode as a mother trying to balance her family with her career. As the episode opens, she’s giving birth to her second child, and she almost dies in the delivery room when the doctor ignores her complaints.

Then the episode cuts to the end of her maternity leave, when she’s getting ready to go back to work. Her husband (Jake Johnson) is transitioning into a role as a stay-at-home dad, but her toddler daughter doesn’t want her to go.

As she struggles with the demands of home and work, she starts to wake up with huge bite marks all over her body. They’re gruesome, but the episode doesn’t do anything surprising with the premise. The ending ties everything up in a neat bow that doesn’t feel earned by the half-hour that comes before it.

Meera Syal plays a woman who’s been married for a long time and is fed up with her husband (Bernard White). She decides to return him at the store, but they’ll only give her an exchange for a new husband, not a refund.

Syal and White have a lot of fun in this episode, which has more hijinks than most of the others. But again the ending feels a little too trite for the deep conflict they portray so well.

In “The Woman Who Disappeared,” Issa Rae plays a best-selling author who heads out to Hollywood to take a meeting about turning her memoir into a film. The episode does a great job of building a sense of dread and creating a techno-dystopia; it definitely felt the most similar to an episode of “Black Mirror.” Rae does a great job of anchoring her character through her disturbing journey through Hollywood.

In “The Woman Who Was Fed By A Duck,” Merritt Wever is a classic rom-com heroine, in between jobs and down on her luck. She finds an unlikely love interest – a talking duck. This episode takes this premise to all its limits and finds humour and depth in the situation. Jason Mantzoukas and Riki Lindhome round out the episode’s supporting cast with memorable turns.

If you only watch one of these episodes, make it “The Woman Who Solved Her Own Murder,” which is by far the best. Alison Brie stars as a woman whose dead body was found in a forest. She haunts the police investigating her murder (Chris Lowell, Hugh Dancy, and Ego Nwodim).

The episode satirizes true crime obsessives and the tormented, sexist, self-absorbed police officers that often end up at the centre of crime media. It can be dark and moving, but it’s also very funny. Brie is pitch-perfect as the woman who died, mourning her own life but also furious that the cops don’t actually seem that interested in finding out who she was beyond stereotypes.