Trauma, Survival, and Popular Sister Stories

Two of the most popular series streaming this month share some remarkable similarities. Sirens (Netflix) and The Better Sister (Amazon Prime Video) showcase beautiful people, exorbitant wealth, and the kind of spectacular homes and wardrobes that serve as both eye candy and class commentary. Sirens is a campy soap opera about a glamorous billionaire philanthropist advocating for wildlife. The Better Sister is an equally campy murder mystery about a glamorous philanthropist advocating for women’s rights. But the most striking parallel is that, in both shows, the real story begins when the unruly older sister crashes into her younger sister’s carefully curated world—uninvited and carrying years of emotional baggage and buried family secrets.

In Sirens, viewers first meet big sister Devon DeWitt (Meghann Fahy) when she’s released from a night in jail and returns home to care for her ailing father. She soon discovers that her younger sister, Simone DeWitt (Milly Alcock), has sent an elaborate edible arrangement—a hollow, showy gesture during a genuine caregiving crisis. Offended and furious, Devon grabs the giant arrangement and sets out, tattooed and tousled, to track down Simone. She finds her working as the personal assistant to the ultra-polished philanthropist and socialite Michaela “Kiki” Kell (Julianne Moore). Simone has shed her upstate New York identity for bright designer dresses, oversized headbands, and an attitude so affected and performative that Devon barely recognizes her.

In The Better Sister, viewers meet Nicky Macintosh (Elizabeth Banks) just before she shows up uninvited at her younger sister’s Manhattan penthouse. Her arrival coincides with the murder investigation of her brother-in-law—who also happens to be her ex-husband. Her younger sister, Chloe Taylor (Jessica Biel), is an influential media figure with a spotless public image. Like Devon, Nicky doesn’t belong in her sister’s rarefied world.

Both big sisters — Devon and Nicky — speak in cringey, grammatically off sentences, wear all the wrong clothes, and offend nearly everyone they encounter. Law enforcement doesn’t know what to make of either of them. Both elegant younger sisters — Simone and Chloe — are torn between embarrassment, protectiveness, and denial.

Despite their glossy exteriors and over-the-top plots, both series authentically touch on darker truths. As the stories unfold, we learn that both sets of sisters grew up in profoundly abusive and neglectful households with fathers who were violent or controlling, and mothers who were weak, absent, or enabling. In both stories, the older sister tried, in her own albeit flawed way, to shield the younger one. Now, the older sisters numb their pain through substances and self-sabotage, while the younger sisters cope by burying the past in perfectionism, success, and the fantasy of reinvention.

What’s psychologically interesting is how these dynamics invert familiar sibling roles. In many families, the older sister is the rule-follower, the achiever, the one who stays in line. The younger is more likely to buck convention and draw outside the lines. But in the aftermath of childhood trauma—especially when the mother is absent or compromised—it’s often the oldest daughter who becomes the protector, absorbing the worst of the father’s pathology and rage. That early responsibility can exact a heavy psychological toll.

These shows are neither high art nor emotionally nuanced. They’re light, escapist, and often absurd—streaming’s version of a beach read. And yet, when these sisters are thrown back together, forced to reckon with their shared past and present selves, the emotional truth beneath the surface glimmers through. In families marked by danger or neglect, siblings are often the only witnesses to the full story. Their bond can become a lifeline, shaped by a private, unspoken language of survival. One may long to forget; the other may be paralyzed by what she remembers.

I can’t recommend either show for realism, depth, or craft. But I find myself moved by how both portray the messy, enduring connection between sisters shaped by trauma. The glitz may be superficial—but the emotional core, in moments, rings true.