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Prime Video’s latest young adult thriller, “We Were Liars,” invites viewers to a sun-drenched private island where privilege reigns supreme and secrets fester beneath the surface. Adapted from E. Lockhart’s 2014 bestselling novel, this eight-episode series blends psychological suspense with family drama, exploring themes of entitlement, memory, and the shattering illusions of perfection. Released amid a wave of book-to-screen adaptations, it captures the essence of Lockhart’s twisted tale while adding layers for the small screen. But does it live up to the book’s haunting introspection? Let’s break it down.
The story revolves around Cadence Sinclair Eastman (Emily Alyn Lind), a teenager from a wealthy, WASPy family who summers on their exclusive island, Beechwood, near Martha’s Vineyard. After a traumatic brain injury during “Summer 16,” Cadence is left with amnesia, desperately piecing together fragments of that fateful season. Her tight-knit group of cousins and friends—dubbed the “Liars”—includes the rebellious Johnny (Joseph Zada), the dreamy Mirren (Esther McGregor), and Gat (Shubham Maheshwari), an outsider who’s also Cadence’s budding love interest and the nephew of her aunt’s partner. Narrated by Cadence with poetic voiceovers, the series flashes between summers, revealing escalating family tensions, hidden prejudices, and a rebellion against the Sinclair patriarch’s iron grip.
What makes “We Were Liars” compelling is its unflinching look at the ultra-rich. The Sinclairs, headed by grandparents Harris (David Morse) and Tipper (Wendy Crewson), embody old-money hypocrisy: blonde, beautiful, and blind to their flaws. Annual traditions like the Fourth of July extravaganza and the whimsical Lemon Hunt mask deeper rifts among Cadence’s mother Penny (Caitlin FitzGerald) and aunts Carrie (Mamie Gummer) and Bess (Candice King), stemming from a childhood tragedy. As Cadence’s memories resurface, the show exposes how wealth breeds manipulation, self-hatred, and disregard for others—echoing real-world critiques of privilege in a relaxed, bingeable format.
Fans of the original novel will appreciate how creators Julie Plec (“The Vampire Diaries”) and Carina Adly MacKenzie stay true to Lockhart’s core: an unreliable narrator, a shocking twist involving a tragic fire, and metaphors of fairy tales crumbling under reality. In the book, the pivotal events unfold during Summer 15, with Cadence hallucinating her deceased Liars companions as she confronts her role in their deaths—Johnny, Mirren, and Gat perish in a blaze she accidentally ignites while trying to burn down the family estate as an act of rebellion against greed. The novel’s lean, lyrical style focuses intimately on Cadence’s guilt and isolation, using poetic interludes to underscore themes of loss and naivety.
The adaptation expands this for TV, shifting the key summer to 16 and broadening the ensemble. It introduces fresh elements like a fourth Sinclair sister who died young, adding depth to the aunts’ dynamics—not present in the book. Johnny’s queer identity gets explored through a coming-out arc, and Mirren gains a romantic subplot, injecting modern relevance while staying faithful to the Liars’ chemistry. The fire sequence is tweaked for drama—the book has Cadence starting it on the wrong side of the house, but the show condenses timelines and alters details to heighten tension. These changes make the series more accessible and visually dynamic, though they occasionally dilute the book’s raw, mind-bending solitude. The twist still packs a punch, but some viewers might find the finale episodes less explosive than the novel’s razor-sharp conclusion.
Performances elevate the material, with Lind delivering a nuanced Cadence—vulnerable yet fierce in her quest for truth. Morse is chilling as the controlling Harris, while the young cast nails the effortless teen camaraderie. However, not everything lands perfectly. Jarring, abstract memory sequences add an unneeded horror vibe, distracting from the emotional core. And by the end, the Sinclairs’ overwhelming privilege might leave audiences more disdainful than empathetic, a balance the book handles with subtler nuance.
Ultimately, “We Were Liars” is a worthwhile watch for fans of soapy thrillers like “The Summer I Turned Pretty” or “Cruel Summer.” It reminds us that idyllic childhoods often hide sacrifices, and righteousness can ignite destruction. All episodes are streaming on Prime Video—dive in, but brace for the storm.
