In We Were Liars, Prime Video's new YA mystery-drama based on E. Lockhart's bestselling novel, 17-year-old Cadence Sinclair (Emily Alyn Lind) returns to her family's private island after suffering a traumatic brain injury the previous summer. The incident has left her with no memory of what happened and as she searches for answers, she finds herself surrounded by layers of silence, secrets and selective memory from those closest to her -- including her childhood besties, known as "The Liars", and her first love.
Set on the fictional Beechwood Island, just off the coast of Martha's Vineyard, We Were Liars is visually seductive, filled with the kind of sweeping coastline shots, glowing golden-hour skies and sprawling estates designed to draw viewers into a world of generational wealth and understated privilege. But underneath the glamorous façade lies a family deeply fractured by ambition, resentment and emotional manipulation. Unfortunately, for all its visual appeal and hints at deeper themes, the series doesn't quite hold up under closer scrutiny.
This show will likely appeal to audiences still smitten with the idea of rich people spending long summers in beautiful places -- think Big Little Lies or The Summer I Turned Pretty -- but as a mystery thriller, it struggles to land its emotional and narrative punches. The plot relies heavily on the overused trope of amnesia as a way to build suspense, and while it's initially intriguing, the structure soon becomes repetitive. We jump between two timelines -- Cadence at 16, when the "incident" occurred, and Cadence at 17, when she returns to Beechwood -- but the back-and-forth begins to feel like a narrative gimmick rather than a meaningful tool of storytelling.
For all intents and purposes, We Were Liars is an "amnesia thriller", but I'm not sure that's a strong selling point. After a while, the mystery feels less like a gripping puzzle and more like a loop that goes nowhere for too long.
None of the characters are particularly likable, and in a show like this, that's a problem. Harris Sinclair (David Morse), Cadence's grandfather, presides over the Sinclair clan like a capitalist patriarch out of a Gothic novel. He's not just emotionally manipulative -- he's also racist and cruel, a man so entrenched in his privilege that he sees no issue in pitting his daughters against one another for his approval. His wife, Tipper (Wendy Crewson), is somewhat softer, but her passivity in the face of Harris' tyranny makes her equally complicit. Their three daughters, each damaged in different ways, are constantly at war for affection, validation and inheritance, caught in the same toxic cycles they'll likely pass on to their children.
Cadence, as our main character, is stuck between these generations, trying to piece together what happened to her while grappling with a growing sense that her family's wealth and legacy are built on silence, repression and guilt. One of the few emotionally resonant aspects of the show is her complicated romance with Gat Patil (Shubham Maheshwari), a boy who is both an insider and an outsider. As the only person of colour in the group who isn't part of the staff, Gat is constantly reminded -- subtly and not so subtly -- that he doesn't really belong. His father, Ed (Rahul Kohli), is dating one of the Sinclair daughters, but this doesn't shield them from Harris' condescension or racism.
Emily Alyn Lind as Cadence Sinclair in We Were Liars. Jessie Redmond
Gat's growing political awareness and frustration adds a much-needed layer to the story. He challenges Cadence and her friends to recognise their own blind spots and privileges, and his presence forces the show to touch -- however briefly -- on themes of systemic inequality and inherited wealth. That said, the series doesn't fully commit to exploring these ideas, and that's one of its biggest missed opportunities.
What I appreciated most about We Were Liars is that it doesn't completely talk down to its target demographic. The show allows its characters -- especially the teens -- to be complicated, selfish and morally ambiguous. Everyone makes bad decisions, but those choices are given space for reflection and growth. There's a quiet urgency to the narrative: if the younger generation doesn't choose to break the cycle, they risk becoming just as broken and bitter as their parents.
It's this generational push-and-pull that gives the show a deeper emotional core. Despite its surface as a teen drama, We Were Liars sometimes feels like a quiet war over the souls of these kids. Can they escape the influence of their elders, or is the damage already done?
Still, the series would have benefitted from a tighter format. Eight episodes was too much. This could have been a five-part miniseries and lost nothing in terms of story. Instead, the pacing drags, especially in the middle episodes where we're forced to watch Cadence spiral in circles, still unsure of what happened and drifting through hazy, fragmented flashbacks that start to feel like filler.
Worse still, the show introduces other potentially rich storylines that it never properly explores. Take Johnny Sinclair (Joseph Zada), one of The Liars, who is clearly in the closet and dealing with unspoken trauma of his own. We get hints -- an arrest, some trouble at school and a grandfather who "bailed him out" -- but the show never develops this arc. This subplot could have added much-needed depth and intersectionality to the narrative, especially when contrasted against the so-called progressive values the Sinclair family claims to uphold.
But instead of pursuing these threads, the story repeatedly returns to Cadence and her vague sense of loss, and by the fourth episode, the mystery loses its grip. The story becomes less about revelation and more about repetition. I found myself losing patience -- not just with the plot, but with the entire premise.
In the end, We Were Liars is a mixed bag. There are moments of genuine emotional power and some beautifully acted scenes, particularly between Cadence and Gat. But the series stumbles with its pacing, underdeveloped subplots and over-reliance on moody ambiguity, this one might not be worth the full eight-episode investment. You might be better off reading the book -- or skipping a few episodes in the middle -- unless you truly have nothing else to do.
- We Were Liars
- Starring Emily Alyn Lind, Caitlin FitzGerald, Mamie Gummer
- Created by Carina Adly MacKenzie, Julie Plec
- Now streaming on Prime Video
