There’s something deeply satisfying about a well-contained series that doesn’t overstay its welcome. ‘Sirens,’ Netflix’s latest limited series, is just that; five taut, sun-drenched episodes brimming with psychological tension, class satire, and some of the best performances I’ve seen on screen this year. Created by Molly Smith Metzler (of ‘Maid’ fame) and adapted from her play Elemeno Pea, Sirens is both sharp and sinister, unspooling over one Labor Day weekend at a private island estate where nothing is as perfect as it seems.
The series is anchored by a trio of powerhouse performances. Julianne Moore is magnetic as Michaela Kell, a wealthy, enigmatic socialite whose façade of effortless charm barely conceals her emotional volatility. Meghann Fahy (best known for The White Lotus) plays Devon, a grounded and pragmatic woman who arrives at the estate to confront her younger sister, Simone, portrayed with ethereal vulnerability by Milly Alcock (House of the Dragon). Simone, it seems, has been swept into Michaela’s lavish world as her personal assistant, or, as Devon quickly suspects, something much more unsettling.
The show’s genius lies in its simplicity. The entire plot unfolds over a single weekend, but Metzler’s writing is so precise and emotionally layered that the drama never lags. Every conversation feels like a high-stakes chess game. As Devon tries to peel back the layers of Simone’s new life, we’re invited to ask uncomfortable questions about influence, identity, and the seductive pull of wealth. Is Michaela a well-meaning benefactor or a master manipulator? Has Simone genuinely found a new path, or is she trapped in someone else’s fantasy?
What makes Sirens so riveting is the way it blends biting humour with emotional depth. There are moments when Michaela’s narcissistic antics veer into the absurd, but Moore plays her with such finesse that you’re never quite sure whether to laugh, shudder, or lean in closer. Meanwhile, the chemistry between Fahy and Alcock grounds the story in something real; the messy, complicated love between siblings who have taken very different paths in life.
Visually, Sirens is a treat. Directed by Nicole Kassell (Watchmen), the camera luxuriates in the coastal New England setting, the golden light, the white wine afternoons, the perfectly fluffed cushions of Michaela’s designer home. But the pristine surfaces only serve to heighten the tension. You can almost feel the characters suffocating under the weight of curated perfection.
The supporting cast adds colour without distraction. Kevin Bacon is understated but effective as Michaela’s indifferent husband, and Glenn Howerton surprises in a more subdued role as a quirky, passive-aggressive neighbour. But make no mistake, this is a three-woman show, and every frame is stronger for it.
There’s been a trend in recent years of TV shows dissecting the lives of the ultra-rich (Succession, The White Lotus, Big Little Lies), and Sirens earns its place in that club. But it also sets itself apart by never losing sight of its emotional core. It’s not just about the rich behaving badly; it’s about the ripple effects their behaviour has on those trying to claw their way out of something smaller, or perhaps, something deeper.
As a viewer, I found myself both enthralled and disturbed. The final episode delivers a gut-punch of a conclusion; ambiguous, unsettling, and perfectly pitched. Sirens doesn’t hand you closure on a silver platter. Instead, it lingers like a whispered warning, about the illusions we buy into and the people we’re willing to become in service of a dream. Sirens is one of the strongest limited series of 2025 so far. A must-watch for fans of intelligent, character-driven drama, it’s a haunting, elegant meditation on power, obsession, and the delicate, dangerous art of reinvention.
