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Sirens feels like a much messier Big Little Lies

Julianne Moore and Meghann Fahy star in Netflix's darkly comedic miniseries.

By Manuel Betancourt | May 22, 2025 | 8:00am

Photo: Macall Polay/Netflix

TV Reviews Sirens

Sirens feels like a much messier Big Little Lies

The premise of Netflix’s latest limited series, Sirens, rests on a truth universally acknowledged: There are few people as beguiling as Julianne Moore. The Oscar-winning actor has long been able to create intriguing women whose warmth can be intoxicating even if— and sometimes precisely because—it’s quite fraught and fragile. In Sirens, such a gift is used to anchor a tale about class, deceit, and sisterhood in which a stranger arrives to upend a seemingly picture-perfect beachside community. If the end result of this TV adaptation of Molly Smith Metzler’s play Elemeno Pea never quite matches Moore’s commitment—and that of her formidable co-star, Meghann Fahy—it is not for lack of trying. This show attempts to do too much, tonally and narratively, to the point where it dilutes the very power of its central acting duo.

The first time we meet Moore’s Michaela “Kiki” Kell, she is a beatific portrait of a nature goddess. In a free-flowing green gown, her straight red hair trailing behind her, Kiki is about to let a bird of prey return to the wild. “Okay, sweet boy,” she coos, “it’s time to go.” The absurd image—of a moneyed, well-to-do Hamptons socialite recognizing something within her control needs to be set free lest it fester in captivity—is an all too blunt introduction to the tensions at the heart of Smith Metzler’s darkly comedic tale. For no sooner has this bird disappeared into the distance do we meet two seemingly wounded creatures (sisters, it turns out) whose interactions with Kiki will forever change their fates.

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The first is Simone DeWitt (Milly Alcock), Kiki’s assistant. Simone is in charge of everything Kiki needs, from sexting her husband and spraying lavender on her underwear to organizing a Labor Day gala and making sure her morning smoothie has no ginger in it. A perky, blond do-gooder, the young assistant is clearly in awe of her boss. She sees her more like a BFF than anything else. It’s perhaps why she’s neglected life at home back in Buffalo. That’s where we meet her sister, Devon (Fahy), who’s clearly Simone’s foil. (Where one wears pastels, the other dons all black. Where one smiles to appease, the other scoffs to disarm.) Simone has been smart to keep Devon and her family at bay. Not even Kiki knows about her torrid family past nor her mess of a sister she’s left behind. But that changes when Devon, fed up with getting ghosted by her younger sister as she’s been left to caretake for their drunken father, decides to alight at Simone’s place of work (a vast estate on a remote island where only the rich and those who serve them live) in what’s slated to be a key weekend for Kiki, her ultra-wealthy husband Peter (Kevin Bacon), and the ecological philanthropic endeavors they bankroll.

Devon arrives like a freewheeling tornado, caring neither for propriety nor decorum. She’s eager to confront Simone about her indifference and finds her sister may have been brainwashed by the much-too poised Kiki. (Why else would they greet each other with the nonsensical and sing-songy “Hey hey”?) Devon needs help, and it’s clear Simone has carefully reconstructed a life for herself that has no more room for the sister who once raised her. And, as the weekend drags on and efforts by Simone and Kiki aren’t enough to push away Devon, the much-mocked bond between the wealthy philanthropist and her eager assistant is put to the test—as is whatever sisterly one may still be there between the DeWitt girls.

After all, can Kiki really trust someone who’s been keeping so many secrets from her? Does Simone really believe she’s more than an employee? Might Devon really come to realize that her sister is perfectly okay with disavowing family obligations? Add in some adultery suspicion, illicit romances, a bickering household staff, and even a trio of vapid socialites who seem to speak in one voice and you have the makings of a wild ride that’s mostly kept together by Moore and Fahy’s commitment to their roles.

On its surface, and in keeping with the lavish landscapes and gilded mansion of its setting, Sirens appears tailor-made to follow in the footsteps of Big Little Lies and its ilk. Here is, once more, a story about the bonds women create and the ones they break, about the ways power and wealth corrupt and how past traumas are hard to outrun. But that comparison also feels too facile and flattering. Sirens is much messier than that HBO series and far less sure of itself when it comes to its tone and narrative. It may be closer to sudsy prime soaps like Desperate Housewives and even, at times, the goofy satire of something like The Stepford Wives—only it never quite commits to the bit for either comparison to work.

For once Devon’s presence begins to show the cracks in Simone’s life with Kiki, and when those cracks risk breaking everything these women have been building in tandem and apart, the series begins spiraling into ever more absurd territory. Where else would you find several suitors following Devon down a sandy beach in what feels like a treacly soap subplot, nightmarish visions that suggest some shoddy supernatural red herrings, and the comedic stylings of Cat Cohen in a scene-stealing role that feels straight out of a ’90s sitcom?

Much is made of the monstrous figures that give the show its title. The siren song that lures men to women like Devon, Simone, and Kiki is top of mind, as is the way such mythical creatures warp the reality around them. But the metaphor is never quite as lucid to really serve as the de-facto storytelling frame it’s set up to be. Instead, as the weekend heads into the much-touted gala Kiki is to host, Sirens‘ many plots don’t so much come together as collide into one another in a truly gasp-inducing final episode. For a series interested in dissecting the role of caretaking, Sirens feels like it’s been left to drift into too many directions, never cohering into the kind of thrilling binge watch it so desperately wishes to be.

Sirens premieres May 22 on Netflix