Or: “A Whodunit Where the Real Crime is the Casting Director’s Choices”
Let’s Not Pretend Either Sister Is “Better”
The Better Sister, the latest prestige thriller trying to cash in on the Big Little Lies aesthetic of affluent people with messy secrets, lands somewhere between lukewarm and mildly irritating. Based on the novel by Alafair Burke, the show features a murder, a dysfunctional family, and enough smug side-eye to power a Bravo reunion special. Unfortunately, it also features a cast of characters so unlikeable you might find yourself rooting for the murderer—whoever they are.
At the center are two sisters played by Jessica Biel and Elizabeth Banks. One’s controlling and cold. The other’s passive-aggressive and tired of playing second fiddle. So… relatable, if you’ve ever sat through Thanksgiving with a bottle of wine and a grudge. Except here, the emotional stakes are flattened by overwrought direction, too many cocktail dresses, and a cast that seems to be in competition for Most Condescending Facial Expression.
Jessica Biel: Yes, She’s Aged. No, She’s Not Better For It.
She’s been better. She’s been worse. She looks like she got the call for this gig somewhere between yoga and a Gwyneth Paltrow candle-lighting ceremony. Her performance as the icy career woman feels like it was built entirely out of side-part hair flips, cold stares, and the word “Ethan” said with increasing volume.
She’s aged, sure, as we all do, but this role isn’t doing her any favors. The makeup department seems to be working overtime trying to balance “mature authority” with “still TV hot,” and instead we get something that reads as “chilly PTA mom with a personal trainer and a Xanax prescription.”
Elizabeth Banks: The Closest Thing to a Human Being Here
Elizabeth Banks is, shockingly, the most tolerable person in the entire show. She manages to inject some actual warmth and subtlety into a cast otherwise made of sarcasm, Botox, and half-smiles. Her character has regrets, complexities, and (most importantly) doesn’t seem like she’d talk down to a barista.
If there’s a reason to keep watching, it’s Banks. But that’s not the same as saying the show’s good. It’s more like saying, “Well, I already microwaved the burrito, might as well eat it.”
Corey Stoll: Still Playing That Same Guy, Just With Less Money
Corey Stoll shows up looking like he wandered off the Billions set and no one stopped him. Slick, smug, and always ready with a backhanded comment or shady phone call, he’s the same character he’s played in everything else—except this time with marginally worse lighting. You know he’s trouble the second he enters a room, mostly because the soundtrack gets louder and everyone starts squinting like someone farted.
Stoll’s resting smirk is practically its own character at this point.
Kim Dickens: Angry Lesbian Cop Stereotype, Cranked to 11
Kim Dickens plays Detective Nancy Guidry–McGrowlface (or something like that), an aggressively unpleasant police officer who seems to be investigating the murder mostly so she can insult everyone in sight. She’s written as a grating, sarcastic lesbian with a badge, which would be fine if it felt grounded. Instead, she walks into every scene like she just finished yelling at someone for misgendering her dog.
She’s all edge, no nuance—a walking Tumblr post with a badge and a smug sense of superiority.
Maxwell Acee Donovan: Virgin With Extra Cheese
Maxwell Acee Donovan plays the teen son, and let’s just say his character seems to have more emotional intimacy with his Xbox than any human being. He’s written like someone who’s been locked in his room for three years, surviving on Hot Pockets and Reddit, and who just now discovered other people exist. There’s supposed to be tension around whether he knows more than he’s letting on. Spoiler: he doesn’t. He’s got the posture of someone who’s been friend-zoned by his own reflection.
Matthew Modine: Every Gay Stereotype Rolled into One Beige Sweater
Matthew Modine plays a creepy homosexual with all the subtlety of a drag queen auditioning for Criminal Minds. He appears in dimly lit scenes, makes cryptic comments, and somehow always seems like he’s one sentence away from inviting someone to a dinner party with a sinister twist.
It’s less “character” and more “Wikipedia entry on predatory subtext.” Frankly, it feels beneath him. But then again, what isn’t these days?
Lorraine Toussaint: Queen Bee of What, Exactly?
Lorraine Toussaint plays the publishing company matriarch—because apparently if you’re an overweight black woman and speak slowly, you can run a media empire now. She radiates disdain in every scene, as if she’s constantly smelling dog shit. The show wants us to believe she’s a power player, but every time she delivers a line about “the board” or “branding,” it sounds like she’s struggling to read it off a cue card taped to a fidget spinner. She’s cosplaying Oprah at a wine club.
Final Thoughts
2.5 out of 5 bad attitudes
If you’re part of their target audience, you may enjoy this. Just don’t expect to care about anyone—except maybe Elizabeth Banks, and possibly the pizza the teenager’s hiding under his bed.
