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here was a clip making the rounds on Instagram last week that left most people not only unsettled and uncomfortable, but also depicted a grey area that some professions can fall into. A young personal assistant to a rich lawyer turned housewife is seen checking the boss’s breath and taking spit-out chewing gum and eating it on being told that her breath is not up to the mark.
Netflix’s latest five-episode miniseries too delves into oddly twisted lives of the rich and wealthy and those who work for them. The series begins with two sisters shown as complete opposites. The viewers are introduced to Devon DeWitt, played by the hardened-over-the-years Meghann Fahy. She has spent the night in jail and gotten her second DUI. Rebellious, yet deeply caring, she sometimes puts her own issues behind her to take care of others.
Then, there is her younger sister, Simone DeWitt, played by Milly Alcock, a put together assistant to the fabulously rich and unsettlingly charismatic Michaela Kell or Kiki (Julianne Moore). Their relationship is unreal, controlling and manipulative. The space between them is enclosed with secrets and a cultish aura that seems to have Simone kissing the ground Kiki walks on. What begins as a weekend reunion spirals into a tightly wound game of control and confrontation, with Devon fighting to pull her sister out of what seems to be a gilded but dangerously coercive environment.
Sirens is not just a sun-drenched, luxury-coated drama. It is a hauntingly incisive dissection of modern society’s moral decay. Written and created by Molly Smith Metzler (of Maid fame) and adapted from her play Elemeno Pea, Sirens looks at first like a long weekend in paradise. However, it soon reveals itself to be a claustrophobic psychological battleground with hints of a murder mystery lurking around the corner.
Beneath its sparkling ocean views and manicured lawns, the series holds up a mirror to deep societal fractures, exposing the rot festering behind wealth, privilege and the illusion of safety. Are the rich really free or are they victims of their own wealth? At its core, Sirens is about class. It is also about how class can be weaponised, not just economically, but also emotionally and psychologically.
Michaela, the chic humanitarian billionaire who claims to ‘rescue animals and women,’ is not just a caricature of upper-class narcissism, but a metaphor for the way the wealthy often co-opt moral language and social causes to shield themselves from scrutiny. Her philanthropic persona is a smokescreen, making it difficult to question her increasingly manipulative behaviour. Metzler’s writing is razor-sharp here: Michaela’s most chilling moments are not the ones where she is screaming or threatening; they are the ones where she uses ‘kindness’ as a domination tool. Julianne Moore is superb in the role, bringing both gravitas and volatility to Michaela. She oscillates between motherly affection and cold detachment with alarming ease, capturing the emotional whiplash often experienced in toxic power structures.
The show subtly echoes real-world headlines—those involving cult-like influencers, #MeToo dynamics and elite circles where silence is bought and accountability is a foreign word. Michaela does not just own people’s time and labour; she also owns their narratives. Anyone who dares to write their own story becomes expendable.
Sirens is not subtle in its commentary; it does not need to be. Issues of inequality, performative activism and psychological abuse are no longer taboo; they are front-page news. By placing these issues in the context of a suspenseful, almost thriller-like narrative, Metzler ensures the viewers not only watch, but also feel the weight of these imbalances.
The sisterly relationship at the heart of the show offers a counterbalance. Milly Alcock’s Simone is heartbreakingly naive, but never stupid. She wants safety, purpose and to be seen—needs that are often exploited by those in power. Devon, played with fierce vulnerability by Fahy, is the audience’s moral anchor. Her frustration, confusion and slowly rising alarm mirrors one’s own when one watches the situation unfold. Through these two, Sirens asks a crucial question: how far would you go to protect someone who does not want to be saved?
Sirens is not subtle in its commentary; it does not need to be. The issues of inequality, performative activism and psychological abuse are no longer taboo; they are front-page news. By placing these issues in the context of a suspenseful, almost thriller-like narrative, Metzler ensures the viewers not only watch, but also feel the weight of these imbalances. Each episode peels back a layer, showing how wealth can distort empathy; how loyalty can become servitude; and how the lines between empowerment and exploitation are often dangerously blurred.
Beyond class, the show critiques the insidious ways women, too, can perpetuate patriarchal violence. Michaela’s power does not make her progressive; it makes her part of the problem. She exploits other women in the name of ‘feminist sisterhood,’ echoing real-world examples of corporate feminism that preach empowerment while practicing exploitation. The dynamic between her and Simone eerily resembles that of an abuser grooming a victim, except that she is dressed in Balenciaga and armed with buzzwords. This comes to an end however when other women, especially her assistant and best friend Simone, do not a blink an eye before letting her go and stepping up the ladder when presented with the opportunity.
“Am I not supposed to walk through a door that opened for me?”
The visual language of the series is equally deliberate. Director Nicole Kassell gives us sweeping, idyllic landscapes that contrast sharply with the suffocating interpersonal drama. The aesthetic Instagram posts are only limited to that because there seems to be no break for the residents. The house, a marvel of architecture, becomes a prison by the end—proof that luxury without liberty is just a more expensive cage. Non-disclosure agreements, prenuptial agreements, legal evidence all seem to be wrapped up in pretty safes around the entire property waiting to be pulled out on the guests, staff and the wife.
It is worth noting that Sirens does not offer easy resolutions. The ending, ambiguous and emotionally charged, resists the urge to tie things up neatly. It understands that trauma does not end with confrontation and that freedom, especially from a system that glamourises dependence, must be continually fought for.
In a media landscape saturated with feel-good dramas and over-the-top thrillers, Sirens stands out for its restraint and realism. It is an urgent story about the seductive nature of power and the quiet, insidious ways people become trapped. It is a reminder that the siren song of privilege is never just a song; it is a warning.
The writer has a degree in psychology with a minor in masscommunication. She can be reached atukmaryam2gmail.com