The Better Sister Review: Jessica Biel And Elizabeth Banks Can't Save This Soulless Slog

In the age of streaming saturation, prestige thrillers are no longer the rare treats they once were - they're weeknight dinner. Predictable. Present. A little overcooked. 

Prime Video's The Better Sister arrives on this buffet line dressed in the trappings of a prestige dish: best-selling source material, glossy production and a double-serving of star power in Jessica Biel and Elizabeth Banks. 

On paper, it's a can't-miss: a murder mystery wrapped around a fraught sisterhood, served cold with notes of trauma, betrayal and courtroom theatrics. 

But while The Better Sister sets its table with the fine china, what it delivers is a strangely underseasoned dish, too complicated to be compelling, too dull to be juicy and too self-serious to land the emotional punches it promises.

Adapted from Alafair Burke's novel by Olivia Milch and Regina Corrado, the limited series begins with a classic hook: a woman returns to her chic home to find her husband murdered in the living room. 

Jessica Biel plays Chloe Taylor, a poised magazine editor with an Instagrammable life, a glamorous job, a luxury Hamptons house, a Manhattan penthouse, a powerful husband and a teenage son she's raised as her own. 

That son, Ethan, is technically her nephew - the biological child of her estranged sister Nicky, played by Elizabeth Banks. Years ago, Nicky spiralled into addiction and instability, and Chloe stepped in, eventually marrying Nicky's ex-husband, Adam (Corey Stoll) and raising Ethan in a neatly pressed world of order and success. 

But when Adam is found dead and the investigation begins, the sins of the past begin to ooze back to the surface, bringing the sisters into a reluctant reunion filled with shared guilt, lingering resentment and deeply buried secrets.

It's a setup with all the right ingredients: fraying sisterhood, a whodunit with psychological undercurrents, a murder mystery that threatens to tear apart a carefully curated facade. The problem is that The Better Sister rarely knows what to do with its narrative wealth. 

It introduces compelling tensions - sibling rivalry, motherhood, the intersections of gender and ambition - but squanders them in a meandering structure that prioritises red herrings and ghostly visions over genuine character exploration. 

The show flirts with the supernatural in odd ways, bringing in spectral visits from deceased characters, including the sisters' domineering father and Chloe's dead husband, but these attempts at emotional depth feel more like disjointed distractions than illuminating metaphors.

Biel and Banks are, to their credit, doing the work. Biel's Chloe is clipped and composed, almost too restrained to connect with. Banks, as the chaotic and brittle Nicky, is more dynamic, often stealing scenes with her wild-eyed humour and unfiltered presence. 

Their performances suggest a rich backstory that the writing only hints at. When they finally begin to share meaningful screen time, deep into the series, the show briefly flares to life. 

Their scenes together are messy, charged, and layered. They offer a glimpse of what The Better Sister might have been if it had leaned harder into the fractured intimacy at its core instead of layering on plot twists like ill-fitting accessories.

Much of the narrative is spent chasing threads that ultimately unravel into nothing. Was Adam involved in shady legal dealings? Is Ethan, awkward and troubled, truly capable of patricide? Is someone in Chloe's professional orbit trying to sabotage her? These questions pile up with little suspense and even less payoff. 

The show becomes entangled in its own labyrinthine storytelling, particularly in the final three episodes, which pivot into a legal thriller so implausible it feels like a parody. 

The courtroom scenes are bafflingly staged, more interested in contrived monologues than legal realism. And by the time the "twist" arrives, it lands not with a gasp, but with a shrug - less because it's predictable, and more because the show has failed to earn our investment.

Tonally, The Better Sister is muddled. It never quite commits to the moody gravitas of a psychological drama, nor does it embrace the pulpy thrill of a domestic noir. 

There are attempts at dark humour, mostly via Banks' sardonic delivery, but these moments sit awkwardly beside the show's more self-serious ambitions. 

The show also dabbles in visual symbolism, particularly with Ethan's medieval knight obsession (yes, really), which feels like it should mean something - anything - but never quite does. Much like the show itself, it gestures at depth without grounding it.

In the current streaming ecosystem, The Better Sister joins a curious trend of sister-centric thrillers that have premiered in quick succession - Peacock's Long Bright River, Netflix's Sirens and now this. 

All three follow estranged siblings forced back into each other's lives by external trauma and all three attempt to dissect the "good sister/bad sister" binary that so often defines women on screen. 

But while Sirens leaned into stylistic excess and Long Bright River found emotional resonance in its quiet grief, The Better Sister is the most confused of the trio. 

It reaches for commentary on gender roles, motherhood, addiction, ambition, and identity, but never weaves them into a cohesive narrative tapestry. Its most important moments, like a scene in which Chloe and Nicky finally admit the damage they've done to each other, are fleeting, buried under the weight of unnecessary subplots and overwritten flashbacks.

There is a version of this story that works: one that tightens the narrative, trims the excess and centres the thorny bond between Chloe and Nicky. 

As it stands, The Better Sister is a cautionary tale about how too much story can bury the soul of a show. It's not the worst entry in the streaming mystery genre, but it's certainly not the best. 

If you're desperate for something to play in the background while folding laundry, it may suffice. But if you're looking for a gripping exploration of sisterhood and suspense, you're better off rewatching Bad Sisters, Defending Jacob or even The Sinner - shows that understood that the best thrillers don't just ask who did it, but why we care.