"We Were Liars" is Atrociously Entertaining, by Victoria Marx

DISCLAIMER: This article contains spoilers for the television adaptation of “We Were Liars.”

This past summer, a brand new abomination of a teen drama dropped on Prime Video. Typically, I’m able to enjoy that kind of thing. I tune out all the unnatural, clumsy dialogue, the clichéd character archetypes, and the abysmally familiar plot points. I’m no stranger to loving media products that are, by all means, awful—In fact, I encourage it. I love to escape into a fictional world that my pre-teen self would have swooned over. Now that I’m in my early 20s, I arguably crave it more than ever. At the end of my days, the wheels in my tired little brain have already been spinning way too much, way too rapidly. Naturally, you can imagine how much I want to put said brain in a washing machine on the fastest spin cycle. Instead, I turn on my TV, seeking some hot garbage to distract me.

However, “We Were Liars” nearly had me ripping my hair out strand by strand. Firstly, my grandma recommended it–which is actually an insane pull if you’re familiar with the storyline. I suppose even grandmas get down with sex, scandal, and crime if the time is right. There’s no shame in that. I hold my grandma’s recommendations to the highest esteem, which is why it’s so unfortunate that I have to report this. Federally speaking, of course. This show is so bad that I’ve been driven to consider legal action.

“We Were Liars" is ambitious at best and a dumpster fire at worst.

I have to start with the main character, Cadence. She’s the main character, and the worst character. She resembles the combination of an influencer and a nepo baby (think Lily-Rose Depp), which is only mildly distracting. Don’t worry, it gets worse. For roughly half the season, she’s in a wig I can only assume was purchased at the local Party City. The aesthetics are lousy and outdated, but that’s nothing compared to how ridiculous the show itself is—make no mistake, the acting, dialogue, and plot are the most offensive components here.

The quality of the acting (or lack thereof) is best seen in Emily Alyn Lind’s strange performance, which is shockingly even more distracting than the wig. To give her the benefit of the doubt, the role is incredibly corny in origin. She plays a naive, spoiled rich girl turned traumatized, jaded, and borderline emo after waking up half-naked on a beach with no recollection of why. The aftermath of this is, of course, depicted through her transition from being blonde and wearing bright colors to dying her hair black and sporting dark colors. Only a genius could come up with something as subtle as that. I’m surprised I could even decode that myself. Oh, she’s wearing black… she must be sad now!

So yes, the role was bad from the beginning. But similar roles have been recovered by a decent actress—this is not one of those cases. Any emotion—concern, anger, sadness, you name it—was depicted by the look of a wounded baby deer. I’m talking brows furrowed, eyes-as-big-as-saucers kind of expression, but dialed to eleven.

Now for the writing; this very well may be the worst dialogue that’s ever graced my ears. Anything that comes out of Cadence’s mouth has never been uttered before. The only way I could be wrong about that assumption is if someone that pretentious exists unbeknownst to me. Even then, the most blaring pseudointellectual wouldn’t be speaking in tongues like this. Her verbiage can only be described in terms of the satirical online phrase “I’m 14 and this is deep.” I’m talking about some real Real Eyes Realize Real Lies activity.

Now, I can see how this sort of dialogue could pass in a book. But a character you can see and hear trying to string together the most unnatural phrase? Almost every time they speak? It’s unreal. I can only imagine how hilarious this show would be under the influence of any substance.

While on the topic of dialogue, I must mention that throughout the show, the Sinclair name is referenced ad nauseam, as if their wealthy family’s specific habits and overall lifestyle are a concept that viewers should be familiar with. Phrases like “this is what we Sinclairs do.” Except you have no idea what Sinclairs do. You’re not a Sinclair. You have never been to their isolated island. All you know is that grandpa is sending shivers down your spine, and the moms are neurotic. You also know that within the parameters of this uncanny reality, the four mischievous kids are called liars. The liars. Somehow this is also supposed to come across as the natural human behavior of real people, not aliens that snuck onto Earth and happened to be in front of cameras.

The other main characters, Johnny, Gat, and Mirren, actually aren’t half bad. In fact, Joseph Zada’s performance as Johnny may be the only thing to salvage this godforsaken show. He’s enigmatic, lighthearted, and, at times, terrifying. No other character comes close to the amount of nuance he has in this particular tale. Even better, he seems to pull it off in such a way that one could believe this person really does exist. Some of us may even know a Johnny.

Let me set the scene for you. For those who may not have seen this show or need a refresher, Johnny is one of four friends that make up the group. He’s a blonde diva with slutty tendencies and an inclination towards violence. He struggles with his sexuality and intense feelings of guilt for beating up a kid who didn’t deserve it. The boy he had feelings for, Blake, was his partner on the tennis team. Blake tries to blackmail Johnny with a video of him attacking the kid on the rival team. In the midst of all of this, his mother uses the family’s wealth to cover up this situation so as not to tarnish the Sinclair name.

What I find so interesting about this is Zada’s ability to switch to a cutthroat demeanor when provoked. His character is so lovable that you almost forget what he’s capable of until you’re forced to reckon with it. The way he balances these qualities so well makes his character feel so real, so effortlessly multifaceted without overdoing it. He’s so charming that you find yourself understanding why someone would go to such lengths to protect him despite his faults. You root for him. When he’s the one breaking down, smashing everything in the Sinclair family mansion, you can’t help but want to cry for him. For the help he didn’t receive when he tried countless times to talk to his mom about his anger, for the love he was scared to have, for the fact that he’s taking a bit too long getting out of that house as it’s actively burning down.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that. In the end, the Liars burn their beloved summer house down.

Cadence’s grandpa was a racist, among other things. His strange, king-like behavior and desire for perfection resulted in the Liars’ moms constantly competing for his approval, attention, and money. When the Liars decided they had had enough of being naïve and privileged (thanks to Gat, the only socially aware and only non-white character), they made a plan to burn down the mansion. After a night of sitting around a campfire drinking, they came up with the very logically sound plan of burning the house down—while inside of said house.

Needless to say, they weren’t the most experienced arsonists. I must admit, despite having ripped this show apart the entire time, I wanted them to get out in time. I truly thought they would, even though it was clear they had sealed their fate. But this is what crushed me most of all—Johnny was the only one destined to die.

He was in the attic. The fire spread faster than they had anticipated. There was no way for him to safely escape. Mirren could’ve jumped out of a window. If Gat had never gone back into the house looking for Cadence, he would’ve survived as well. Cadence was the sole survivor. Johnny just wanted to be loved—to be understood. He wanted to talk to his mom about how scared and guilty he felt about the kid he hurt. He never got to come out as queer. Mirren and Gat got some semblance of closure. They presumably cross over at the end of the show, their spirits leaving the island. Johnny, on the other hand, is stuck there.

Along with the reveal of the fire comes another unveiling of the current timeline they’re in. Basically, the series is split up between last year’s summer and this year’s summer. This year’s summer is when Cadence starts stunning in her black Party City wig—stay with me here. Cadence is grappling with the loss of her memories after the fire when she finds herself washed up on the beach, half-naked. For the entire second half of the show, she can’t remember anything. Whenever she starts to remember, her brain protects her from the pain of the memories resurfacing. She’s seen with Gat, Mirren, and Johnny all summer. Except they aren’t really there. They haven’t been since that night they planned to burn the house down together. They died on impact when the gas main exploded from the fire.

How could she still see them? The show frames it as Cadence abusing painkillers, causing hallucinations. More importantly, however, the author confirmed that the ghosts of her friends are still inhabiting the island. They spend time with her, coaxing her into learning the truth as best they can. Throughout this process, it’s clear that they don’t want to explicitly tell her. Only after the fact do viewers understand that this is because once they do, they’re not sure if they’ll continue to exist in that liminal space as ghosts.

Johnny apologizes to Cadence for this, saying he’s sorry that he refrained from telling her the truth of what happened that night. He was scared that if he did, he’d go to Hell. Zada delivers the line with an earnest shake in his voice: “Sorry, I lied. I just don’t want to burn, again.” He flinches as he says it. In the final scene of the show, Johnny’s ghost is seen talking with his mom, Carrie. When she tells him she thought he had left, he tells her he doesn’t think he can. He’s stuck.

“We Were Liars” tested my patience, willpower, and ability to withstand some of the worst dialogue I’ve ever encountered. I feel proud somehow. Like a soldier returning from battle. This show took so much from me and yet still had the audacity to make me bawl on my living room couch during the finale. There’s no other way to put it: I got bamboozled. Utterly fooled. Some would even go as far as to say I was deceived with the utmost trickery.

I’m kinda into it, though.