Between the wealthy sleuthing of Big Little Lies and the vacation-oriented murder mysteries of The White Lotus, television has found a unique combination of luxurious escapism and trashy airport lit. Gone are the days in which filmmakers like Nancy Meyers or Cameron Crowe could project earnest intentions on upper-middle-class white characters without any hint of sinister intentions; voyeuristic dark comedies like The Menu, Bodies Bodies Bodies, and Triangle of Sadness have benefitted from the humiliation and torture of their subjects, whose privilege has inhibited them from any sympathy. Television hasn’t grown as radical, but a hint of satire has become essential for any stories that deal with class dynamics.
Most shows don’t have the imagination to discuss anything other than the wealth disparity. Succession was an exception, as the examination of a Murdoch-esque media empire was merely the backdrop for a tragedy about fathers and sons. More often than not, streamers have produced shows like The Perfect Couple and The Undoing, which offer a glitzy portrayal of indulgence, yet lack any substantive ideas about the psychology of hierarchical longing. Sirens is a refreshing diversion because the series has more to say about the entrapment of social obligations than derivative “eat the rich” sentiments.
Comparisons to The White Lotus are bound to occur because Sirens is also spearheaded by Meghann Fahy, who broke out in the second season of Mike White’s HBO show. Although The White Lotus cast her as an ignorant trophy wife, Fahy is given a more provocative role in Sirens as Devon DeWitt, a black sheep within her family who’s responsible for the care of her ailing father, Bruce (Bill Camp). After a humiliating run-in with the law, Devon’s thoughts are fixated on her younger sister, Simone (Milly Alcock), who she hasn’t communicated with in years. Simone has served as the personal assistant to Michaela Kell (Julianne Moore), an eccentric former lawyer nicknamed “Kiki,” who has an isolated commune estate off the coast of New England.
Devon’s surprising emergence into her sister’s life is the inciting incident of Sirens; although at first Devon is purposefully obtuse, as her goal is to offer Simone a dose of reality, she’s quickly exposed to the cult-like community that has been organized to appease her. Sirens does more than just point out how strange it is for an egomaniac to own her own staff and manager her own private society; Simone’s surveillance activity is reminiscent of the 1970s paranoia of The Parallax View, and her picturesque cultural festivities shares visual similarities to The Wicker Man.
Underneath the mask of extravagance is a complex knot of tormented relationships, each of which has its own unusual power dynamics. Kiki’s married to the “old money” billionaire Peter (Kevin Bacon), who has also served as the CEO of her company. Peter’s had the benefits of affluence since his upbringing, and his only current desire is the exhilaration that is generally reserved for youths. While Peter once found that in Kiki, his desires have become fixated on Simone, who’s in her own relationship with her opulent neighbor, Ethan Corbin III (Glenn Howerton).
Although there’s a revolving door of character actors that dip in and out of the narrative, Sirens is at its best when focused on the tension between Simone and Devon. Simone’s sexually frustrated and depressed, as her father’s drained health has made it impossible for her to mend their broken relationship; given the sacrifices she made to care for Simone when they were younger, Devon feels entitled to the benefits of her sister’s current employment. However, Simone has developed a sense of shame about her upbringing, and has successfully avoided any discussion about her time in foster care from Ethan, Kiki, and Peter. Sirens is surprisingly thorny in the shift of sympathies; Devon’s vapid attitude is steadily revealed, and Simone’s shown to be a naive, suggestable “people pleaser” who has bent the knee to the powerful people that surround her.
Sirens is bold in its mean-spiritedness: it’s increasingly cruel in its assessment of its characters' transparent brokenness. Simone and Devon may have found themselves on the same side of a potential murder investigation, but neither’s willing to offer the apology that wound mend their familial bond. Devon would only be satisfied if Simone sacrificed her lifestyle altogether, and Simone was most content when she’d pretended her sister doesn’t exist. There’s enough dressing from the polished sets and crisp visuals of Sirens that the more poignant, painful moments with Fahy and Alcock are an effective change-of-pace.
The assumption that Kiki’s a manipulative, mustache-twirling sociopath is proven false, as she’s merely a lonely, aging woman with nothing to do with her resources. Moore’s work in Sirens is reminiscent of performances in Magnolia or May December, in which a larger-than-life personality is used to hide her resentment in being judged. Bacon’s also good, as Peter’s honesty had made him both charismatic and creepy; although he hasn’t tried to revamp his image like his wife has, Peter’s incapable of being opaque in his yearning for Kiki.
Sirens is weak when its backstories become convoluted, as the details of Kiki’s past are less interesting than her warped sense of reality. The subtext of Sirens isn’t subtle, but the show’s disinterest in triviality is refreshing.