Disclaimer: A day after finishing “Disclaimer” — after sleeping on it — I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about the highly anticipated Apple TV+ limited series.

Debuting this week with the first two of its seven hourlong chapters, it is an adaptation of the 2015 novel of the same name by Renée Knight.

Two noteworthy people involved with this small-screen endeavor are its creator, Alfonso Cuarón, the writer and director of every episode, and its star, Cate Blanchett, who also serves as one of its executive producers.

Since 2001, Cuarón has made five acclaimed films: “Y tu mamá también,” “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” “Children of Men,” “Gravity” and “Roma.” He won the Academy Award for Best Director for the latter two.

And then there’s the similarly extremely talented Blanchett, an Oscar winner herself for 2004’s “The Aviator” and 2013’s “Blue Jasmine.”

Knowing only of the involvement of these two giants, you would expect “Disclaimer” to be excellent — which it is … at points and for stretches.

Highly cinematic even for a prestige TV drama, “Disclaimer” is engaging and can be quite potent, as its nebulous tale of secrets and lies unfolds in calculated measurements portioned out by Cuarón. And, not surprisingly, it boasts some excellent work by Blanchett, backed by a supporting cast that includes fellow veteran actors Kevin Kline and Lesley Manville, as well as a decidedly un-Borat-like Sacha Baron Cohen.

“Disclaimer” also can be melodramatic and even a little silly — at least for something with these kinds of artists behind it. And it mixes in a few sexually charged scenes that while certainly titillating also feel a bit excessive.

Blanchett portrays the dramatically named Catherine Ravenscroft, whose award-winning work as a documentarian has exposed the misdeeds of others. Her life, which includes husband Robert (Baron Cohen, “Sweeney Todd,” “Hugo”) and underachieving adult son Nicholas (Kodi Smit-McPhee, “The Power of the Dog”), is thrown into disarray after she receives a novel, “The Perfect Stranger.”

Dedicated “To my son, Jonathan,” its early pages also contain the all-important disclaimer: “Any resemblance to persons living or dead is not a coincidence.”

It takes little reading for Catherine to realize she is the book’s titular character, whom the author blames for their son’s death.

The viewer soon learns the book has been published under a nom de plume by retired teacher Stephen Brigstocke after finding the work of his late wife, Nancy (Manville, “Phantom Thread,” “The Crown”), in the room of their deceased son, Jonathan.

Along with it, he finds explicit photographs taken by Jonathan (Louis Partridge, “Enola Holmes”), right before his death in 2001, of a beautiful woman, believed to be a younger Catherine (Leila George, “Animal Kingdom”). Stephen intends to use both the book and the photographs to destroy Catherine, getting them into the hands of those where they could do the most damage.

For instance, Robert knows nothing about Catherine’s experience those many years ago with Jonathan, during a vacation to an Italian beach.

Robert had to go home early due to work responsibilities, but a young Nicholas remained with his mother. That she did what she did only feet from the boy, if seemingly out of his view, only serves to amplify the anger and disgust Robert comes to direct at Catherine.

Much of the enjoyment of watching “Disclaimer” comes from trying to determine what to take from its myriad flashback sequences, both before Jonathan’s death and after it, when a shellshocked Nancy decides to move into her dead son’s room.

I will say — and this could be seen as a strength or weakness of the series — that it becomes difficult to know if you should be rooting for anyone involved. No one is all that likable, and, having finished it, I believe the series would have benefited from Nicholas having something that resembled an appealing quality.

While Blanchett does the heavy lifting throughout the series, Kline (“A Fish Called Wanda,” “The Big Chill”) is commanding in his scenes. However, the character of Stephen simply can be a bit much — like the series overall.

Rest assured, “Disclaimer” saves something impactful for its finale, an hour of TV that, like the nearly six hours that precede it, is at times engrossing and at others frustrating.