With Amazon’s new series We Were Liars, an adaptation of E. Lockhart’s bestselling novel, we get the honor of yet another mystery circling the uber-wealthy. The constant affluence porn of the last few years — Netflix’s The Perfect Couple and Sirens, HBO’s The White Lotus, and Hulu’s Nine Perfect Strangers (to name a few of the many) — is starting to feel like showrunners are cashing in on the dreamlike lull their audience finds themselves in when exposed to the absurd wealth they’ll never experience; more aesthetic awe than substance.
Shows like The White Lotus occasionally make it worth it by avidly interrogating the social structures and conditioning of the 1%. However, though touching on the surface of some important issues, We Were Liars is another show guilty of privileging the cultivation of a fairy tale, only to forget that writing and acting go a long way.
Trigger Warning: This article has mentions of racism, which may be triggering for some readers. Please exercise personal care when reading.
Trouble in Paradise
The series begins with the narration of Cadence Sinclair (Emily Alyn Lind) setting the plot and intrigue for the show: Last summer, she awoke in a hospital after being discovered washed up and alone on the beach. Her last memory of the summer is two months prior: her kiss with her childhood best friend, Gat. The following summer, Cady returns to Beechwood, the private island belonging to the elite blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and cutthroat Sinclair family, in hopes of recouping the traumatic events that led to her amnesia the previous summer. Most specifically, she’s seeking to confront her closest friends, the ones who left her in the lurch all year, without even an inquiring text: the Liars.
The Liars are Cady’s summer confidantes who remain inseparable for three straight months every year: herself; her cousin Johnny (Joseph Zada, soon to play Haymitch in Sunrise on the Reaping), Aunt Carrie’s son; her cousin Mirren (Esther McGregor), Aunt Bess’s daughter; and Gat (Shubham Maheshwari). Gat arrived in Beechwood eight summers earlier with his uncle, Ed (Rahul Kohli), and Aunt Carrie (Mamie Gummer), Ed’s partner, after the death of his father. Jumping from Summer ‘16 to Summer ‘17 intermittently, the show pieces together Cady’s memories, slowly but surely. With sensory-overloading flashes between present and past, these time-jump transitions are a most unwelcome part of the show, an attempt to add some thriller-esque aspect to the series without ever really landing.
A Crumbling Castle
Since Penny (Caitlyn Fitzgerald), Cady’s mom, has forbidden anyone from disclosing the events from last summer, as doctors say she must come to the memories on her own, Cady loses trust in those around her until more truths begin to surface. These jumps reveal a lot: a passionate and confusing love affair with her best friend; Johnny’s dark violent streak; the death of her grandmother; Harris’ (David Morse) mind games with his daughters; the instability of Bess (Candice King), Carrie, and Penny’s lives; and most importantly, the bigotry that upholds her family. Gat comes from a lower economic standing than the Sinclairs — in fairness, so, too, does everyone — and is of Indian descent. As Gat has aged and spent time in India, his growing discomfort and frustration with the privilege of the family he’s huddled on the outskirts of for almost a decade begins to bubble over.
The Liars show some resistance to Gat’s new vocal stance on their unwitting ignorance and the casual racism of Harris, the Sinclair patriarch. Harris allows Ed and Gat in their company, but draws the line at them being featured in photos or Ed having children with his daughter. As Cady begins to educate herself and fixate on the decay that lines her family tree, Johnny begins to look inward and outward at the pressure he and his family exist under, and Mirren starts tracing the cracks in the facade, the Liars eventually end up on a united front. Harris is like poison to his family: He’s the king of the castle with a penchant for using the princesses, princes, and common people around him like chess pieces. The Liars decide to put an end to it: If Gat and Ed aren’t good enough for Harris, Harris isn’t good enough for the Liars.
An Incredible Twist With a Broken Back
What’s so upsetting about this show is that the last hour is actually sitting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat, gripping-your-pearls, grabbing-your-tissues interesting. Until the last episode, the only thing keeping me going was a vague curiosity in how this all plays out. After lugging the plot through seven episodes, it suddenly explodes with a vehemence and intrigue you’ve been hungry for all along. I can’t say much more without completely spoiling the ending, and honestly, if any reader is going to turn to We Were Liars after they’re through here, I refuse to ruin the one redemptive aspect of this series.
The cast completely lacked chemistry, the script lacked development, and the plot lacked depth. The show approaches some pressing topics, ones that deserve the full dissection they’re owed, but barely seem to breach the surface. With a nauseating amount of fairy tale references, a narration style that honestly felt like a dissociative fever dream, and the constant flirting with serious issues that never seem fully explored, We Were Liars was ultimately a letdown. We constantly hear from Gat about the unfair treatment of the staff, but never hear from them directly or encounter these issues outright. Cady seems to develop a social conscience, but besides her hanging around Gat and the occasional flash of a social justice book, we never really see true introspection.
There were some standout moments, with Candice King showing some surprising range and coming out as an MVP of the series, a sweet romance you couldn’t help but root for, and an expertly done reveal. The ending being good almost makes me angrier at the show: You had this in your pocket and led up to it like that? Maybe the show will delve deeper if it’s awarded a next season for E. Lockhart’s prequel Family of Liars, which they’re clearly hoping for with the cliffhanger of the final episode.
I think it’s time we see some upper-class takedown from the ones who really know their absurdity and ignorance best: the ones below them. If we need a summer show (seemingly always in the vicinity of Cape Cod), why don’t we focus on the flocks of service workers that deal with the rich every season: the hotel staff, the waitresses, the townies invaded by the second-homers? Enough of affluence porn: The irony is, it’s cheap.
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