Meghann Fahy doesn’t have the best luck with vacations. The White Lotus took her to Sicily, where her character’s marriage was tested and many people got killed. In The Perfect Couple, her character was the murder victim, whose death derailed a Nantucket society wedding. Fahy’s latest bad trip, Sirens, feels a lot like this year’s Perfect Couple. Both are Netflix shows that cast big-name actors as rich people summering on exclusive New England islands. Each pits a young heroine of humble means against the formidable, possibly sinister lady of the estate; this time, that quintessential Nicole Kidman role is played by a serenely terrifying Julianne Moore. And while Sirens shows flickers of ambition to transcend the typical A-list crime soap, its admittedly addictive pleasures are chiefly of the sudsy variety.
Based on a play by creator Molly Smith Metzler (Maid) and backed by a team of executive producers that also includes Margot Robbie, the miniseries introduces Fahy’s Devon as a Central Casting burnout, exiting a police station in all black, combat boots, and smudgy eyeliner. Never mind, for now, what she was doing there. Devon has been stuck in Buffalo caring for a dad with dementia (Bill Camp). Now, she’s hit a breaking point and needs help from her semi-estranged sister, Simone (House of the Dragon breakout Milly Alcock).
The trouble is, Simone loves her job as the live-in assistant and creepily close confidant of Michaela (Moore), the charismatic but exacting wife of a billionaire (Kevin Bacon), whose philanthropic foundation seems kind of like a cult. Devon’s raccoon-eyed arrival on an island that might as well be sponsored by Lilly Pulitzer, at the beginning of an event-packed Labor Day weekend set to culminate in Michaela’s big annual gala, throws the household into chaos.
Sirens has been promoted as a dark comedy with a “Greek mythology vibe” befitting its title; flourishes such as a trio of fawning Michaela followers who speak in unison do occasionally conjure a surreal, satirical mood. The finale implies a desire to comment on the misogyny and wealth worship underlying stories like The Perfect Couple rather than reproduce it. Yet Metzler too often stops short of true wit and strangeness. This makes for an inconsistent tone, from which we’re happily distracted by a dazzling backdrop, a twisty plot, and diva-worthy performances—all elements that make Sirens just as fun to watch as the shows it means to critique, but not much more insightful.
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