Already binge-watched 'Sirens'? Why our obsession with 'eat the rich' TV is the true recession indicator

The storyline propelling Sirens, Netflix’s hugely popular mini-series, unfurls quickly and with camp flourish. The five-part series follows Simone (Milly Alcock) as she assimilates into the picturesque New England elite alongside socialite Michaela Kell (an unsettling but chic turn by Julianne Moore). The plot dissolves into something equal parts preposterous and bingeable, which reveals that behind the shimmering facade… wealth can be little more than a gilded cage (yet one we may all hope to find ourselves in). Sirens is just the latest iteration of glossy dramas that place a focus on seeing the moneyed misbehave and befall misfortune. Arguably the biggest television series of the year so far was The White Lotus, with the third season of Mike White’s sun, sea and satire of rich guests at a luxury hotel attracting record audiences (the finale drew in 6.2 million viewers, a 30% increase compared to the previous series high of 4.8 million). Meanwhile, Nine Perfect Strangers, which sees wellness guru Masha Dmitrichenko (Nicole Kidman, obviously) lead a transformative wellness retreat for the one percent, has just returned for round two. But why are we seeing a glut of shows focusing on wealth beyond our wildest dreams right now, when most of us are feeling the pinch more than ever before? Since 2020, the wealth of the five richest billionaires has more than doubled - and during the same time, more than five billion people have become poorer. For chartered psychologist Dr Manpreet Dhuffar-Pottiwal, our obsession with observing the lifestyles of the rich and the famous “reflects a cultural preoccupation with extremes. “This trend aligns with social comparison theory, wherein individuals evaluate their own circumstances against those perceived as socially or economically superior,” Dhuffar-Pottiwal continues. “These shows offer aspirational escapism, allowing viewers to vicariously experience opulence. “The rise of streaming platforms has also normalised binge-watching, creating a lucrative market for sensationalised, high-drama content that glamorises wealth. Clinically, I observe that clients from marginalised backgrounds often describe such shows as a form of ‘mental holiday’ from financial stress, though this escapism can fuel unhelpful fantasies of unattainable success.” It seems almost paradoxical, particularly during an era of economic uncertainty, that we’d want to see the wealthy flaunt their wad. The ongoing cost of living crisis means people are now struggling to afford the basics; research from the Young Women’s Trust revealed that 56% of young women described their financial situation as "uncomfortable" in 2023. The rise in food, housing and energy prices are also seeing women disproportionately affected; a recent survey by Idealo found only one third of women (34 per cent) say they can afford to pay their bills and top up their savings. However, Dhuffar-Pottiwal argues it’s because of this economic uncertainty that we find ourselves beguiled on shows about elites. “This is down to relative deprivation theory, where systemic inequality promotes resentment towards the wealthy while simultaneously heightening curiosity about their lives,” she says, “Programmes like Succession exploit this tension, offering audiences a voyeuristic glimpse into a world of excess that feels both alien and magnetising. “Neuroscientific and behavioural addiction research on media consumption suggests that the brain’s reward pathways are activated by depictions of luxury, akin to the allure of gambling or compulsive shopping.” Yep, it would seem that watching shows about the affluent is the true recession indicator; look at the popularity of Dynasty and Dallas, which hit screens following the severe economic recession of the early 80s. Likewise, when the economy is good, the television shows we flock to are grittier, or grimier; consider mafia murder series The Sopranos and grotty house-share drama This Life, which hit screens in the nineties. However, what differs in this new era of extreme wealth is the need to see the most loathsome, super-rich, characters fall from grace - and often spectacularly. After all, no-one is truly happy in Succession despite their proximity to millions, while The White Lotus always ends with (at least one) death - and Michaela in Sirens sees her life unravel at lightning speed. “This reflects a societal demand for catharsis amid growing distrust of elites,” Dhuffar-Pottiwal says. “Psychologically, this aligns with schadenfreude - the pleasure derived from others’ misfortunes - which intensifies when the target is perceived as undeservingly privileged. “The post-2008 political climate and critiques of ‘the one percent’ has normalised vilification of the ultra-wealthy. Audiences crave moral equilibrium; seeing the rich punished restores an illusion of fairness in an unequal world.” However, there may be something sadly uncanny in seeing the mighty fall; watching Michaela fearing her husband cheating in Sirens, or the hotel guests of The White Lotus bitterly battling it out for dominance (the toxic trio from season three, we’re looking at you), shows how wealth does not necessarily cocoon them from everyday struggles us mere mortals face. “Material abundance cannot insulate against human fragility,” agrees Dhuffar-Pottiwal. “Newer television shows about the super rich both simultaneously glamorise wealth and dismantle its mythos.” In presenting us with entitled characters who we’re supposed to loathe, while at the same time acknowledging that, deep down, we’re not entirely unlike them, TV shows about the super rich are merely twisted, trick mirrors showing us back an ugly, magnified version of ourselves. And it seems we can’t get enough. Sirens is now streaming on Netflix

Already binge-watched 'Sirens'? Why our obsession with 'eat the rich' TV is the true recession indicator

Netflix’s latest smash hit series indulges in our love in watching the super-rich sink under the weight of their own wealth

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