Sirens premieres May 22 on Netflix.
By Elazar Abrahams
Netflix’s Sirens is a five-episode miniseries that wastes no time dropping viewers into a world of luxury, manipulation, and tangled familial bonds. Set almost entirely over one long Labor Day weekend on a private island estate, the series thrives on tension, dialogue, and the thrill of watching beautiful, broken people verbally spar in beautiful, curated settings. Think The White Lotus by way of Tennessee Williams, if Tennessee Williams had a thing for granite countertops and infinity pools.
The setup is simple, but juicy. Devon (Meghann Fahy) arrives at her sister Simone’s (Milly Alcock) posh workplace-slash-home to stage an impromptu intervention. Simone has fallen under the influence of Michaela Kell (Julianne Moore), her enigmatic and ultra-rich employer, and Devon’s not buying the new lifestyle. What follows is a long weekend filled with passive-aggressive brunches, accusations, confessions, flirtations, and emotional gut punches. It’s theatrical in the best way, and it makes sense that the show was adapted from Molly Smith Metzler’s play Elemeno Pea. You can feel the stage roots in the tight dialogue, condensed setting, and the way characters are slowly stripped down, emotionally and metaphorically, over the course of their stay.
Julianne Moore brings her usual star power to the role of Michaela, all disarming charm and quiet menace. She’s excellent, but the series really belongs to Milly Alcock and Meghann Fahy. Alcock is magnetic as Simone, oscillating between vulnerability and calculation with ease. Fahy, continuing her post-White Lotus ascent, anchors the show with a grounded performance that never stops being interesting. The sisterly dynamic between them is complex and believable, and it gives Sirens real emotional stakes.
The supporting cast deserves a nod too. Kevin Bacon and Glenn Howerton each turn in memorable, tightly wound performances that fit perfectly into the show’s anxious, high-society bubble. There’s a sense throughout that every character is performing in some way, whether to themselves, to their loved ones, or the power structures they’re caught in. That makes the interpersonal unraveling all the more compelling.
As the show hurtles toward its conclusion, it starts to feel like it’s reaching for something bigger than it can fully articulate. The final episode offers drama and release, but it’s not entirely clear what it’s all building toward. And yet, I didn’t really mind. The journey is packed with smart commentary about class, privilege, and the price of upward mobility. There are no easy answers here, but there are plenty of excellent moments along the way.
Ultimately, Sirens is the kind of limited series that understands how to hold attention without overextending itself. The episodes move quickly, the tension rarely dips, and the performances are consistently engaging. It’s funny, cutting, and just campy enough to keep you coming back for more. A few unanswered questions aside, this is prestige entertainment with a deliciously soapy edge. You could do far worse with your next weekend binge.
I give Sirens an A-.
TV and City 