Emily Alyn Lind Can't Remember the Truth—And That's the Problem
“I need to see if all the lies lead to me…” That haunting line in Prime Video's We Were Liars trailer just detonated across the internet—dragging viewers back to a private island where the sun sets on secrets, not summer tans.
Based on E. Lockhart's best-selling YA novel, the upcoming series follows Cadence Sinclair (played by Emily Alyn Lind, with the gravitas of a teen Nicole Kidman), a 17-year-old heiress recovering from a traumatic accident she can't remember. Now she's back—on her family's lush, WASP-y New England island—with her inner circle (dubbed “the Liars”) and one mission: figure out what the hell happened that night.
Spoiler alert: it's not just about her memory. It's about complicity, class, and the cracks in a dynasty built on denial.
This Isn't Your Average YA Soap. It's a Class War in Cardigans.
The trailer doesn't scream. It whispers. Which, somehow, is worse.
Like a lovechild between Big Little Lies and Outer Banks, We Were Liars trades in slow-burning dread, slick editing, and that suffocating sense of privilege-as-prison. But here's the savage twist: beneath the linen and legacy lies something truly corrosive.
Two years ago, Cadence had an “accident.” Now she's back, and the vibe is less welcome home, more don't dig too deep. Her cousins and crush—Mirren, Johnny, and Gat (played by Shubham Maheshwari)—are cagey. The adults? Even worse. Think Succession on Xanax.
That amnesia? It's not just a plot device. It's thematic. It's what money buys: the right to forget, to revise, to lie so long the truth rots in saltwater.
History Rhymes—And This One's Singing in Blood
Here's the wild part: We Were Liars is not just another pretty-trauma teen thriller. It's part of a lineage—going back to Cruel Intentions, The Secret History, and The Virgin Suicides—where the wealthy young implode under their own mythologies.
But what sets this one apart? The people behind the curtain.
Julie Plec (The Vampire Diaries) and Carina Adly MacKenzie (Roswell, New Mexico) aren't tourists in teen angst—they're architects. With episodes helmed by Erica Dunton (The One Tree Hill effect is strong) and Nzingha Stewart (Grey's Anatomy meets prestige polish), this series isn't just chasing vibes. It's orchestrating them.
Also, E. Lockhart herself is executive producing. Translation: this won't be a butchered book-to-screen adaptation. It's faithful—until it turns faith into a weapon.
Your Move, Viewers: Is This Genius or Just Another Rich Kid Reckoning?
There's no in-between here.
Either We Were Liars will deliver one of 2025's most twisted YA adaptations—or it'll drown in its own aesthetic, like a Ralph Lauren ad that forgot to blink. The trailer leans into memory loss like it's gospel. But if the story doesn't pull a rabbit (or a corpse) out of that beach bonfire by episode three, expect Twitter to revolt.
Because here's the uncomfortable truth: in a post-Euphoria, post-Yellowjackets world, the bar for “teen trauma with teeth” is high. And We Were Liars is either swinging for legacy… or prepping for disaster.
