10 Things We Liked (and 3 We Didn't) About Prime Video's Dead Ringers Series

An excellent Rachel Weisz stars as the unstable twins in a new adaptation of David Cronenberg's 1988 horror classic.

The horror of David Cronenberg’s 1988 Dead Ringers is still potent enough to get under your skin, but Prime Video’s six-episode Dead Ringers series starring Rachel Weisz as the Mantle twins—played by Jeremy Irons in the original film—offers a similarly potent yet significantly altered exploration of medical boundary-pushing and sibling love that runs dangerously deep.

Ahead of the series’ arrival on Prime Video this week, here’s our spoiler-free review of its (mostly) highs and (just a few) lows.

Though special effects lend a bit of assistance in the scenes where Elliot and Beverly Mantle appear together, the real special effect is Weisz’s performance. She embodies two very different characters who interact seamlessly with each other—even when, as is often the case, extremely elevated emotions are in play. It’s easy to forget there’s just one actor onscreen playing opposite herself.

Elliot is the more outgoing sister; she likes to drink, do drugs, and pick up random partners at dance clubs. She’s often seen eating and seems to genuinely relish talking with food shoved in her mouth. Beverly, meanwhile, is the twin who always has her hair pulled back—something that represents her more reserved personality, as well as giving the Dead Ringers viewer a handy way to tell the women apart. Elliot and her “baby sister” (a term of endearment that’s a callback to the Cronenberg film) also have different approaches to their medical careers: Elliot’s most at home in the lab conducting experiments that are as miraculous as they are dangerous (and illegal), while Beverly works directly with expectant mothers.

They couldn’t be more different as people, but their bond is worrisomely tight. Even in the earlier episodes, when things seem relatively “normal” for the Mantles, Dead Ringers drops hints that any threat to their symbiotic relationship could trigger an epic unraveling—and spawn some extremely dire consequences.

It’s not a spoiler to say that the twins’ relationship does begin to fracture. As Elliot and Beverly start to pull apart for the first time in their lives, the world of Dead Ringers becomes less rooted in realism. As the sisters begin to struggle with the pain of their separation and the toll it takes on their respective mental states, even the familiar spaces they occupy become darker and more surreal.

Jennifer Ehle plays Rebecca Parker, a billionaire several times over thanks to her family’s drug empire, which we’re frequently reminded is responsible for the opioid crisis. At the urging of her younger wife, she kicks down the millions needed to fund the Mantles’ dream project—a lab and birthing center—and thereafter keeps a steely eye on her investment. Ehle’s performance is positively vicious, and you get the sense Rebecca enjoys being one of the most hated people in America. But she doesn’t always do what you expect her to do; her motives are completely self-serving, but she’s so icy and hard to read her decisions can be shocking.

The Mantle Parker Birthing Center—the “Barbie Birthing Dream House,” as Elliot snarkily calls it—is a lavish, futuristic medical facility, and it also feels a bit like a giant womb itself. One corridor in particular, with its crimson carpet and matching, artfully splattered walls, underlines this theme, as does the use of red lighting in the lab and exam rooms. Even the center’s dramatic atrium staircase invites its share of visceral drama. The garish, blood-red surgical scrubs, another nod to Cronenberg’s film, are perfectly at home here.

Though Elliot tests the limits of medicine with her “Frankenstein shit,” as another character dubs it, Dead Ringers does take the time to explore the often depressing realities of women’s healthcare. Before their cushy birthing center opens, the Drs. Mantle work in a crowded, chaotic hospital where mothers don’t often get the care they need. We hear them articulate the problems with healthcare geared towards expectant mothers while they’re trying to convince a very bored Rebecca to fund their project. We also see Beverly’s own struggle to conceive, and the disappointment she faces when her body refuses to cooperate.

While Cronenberg’s movie parcels out a couple of flashbacks to offer hints at why Elliot and Beverly are the way they are, the Dead Ringers series includes an entire episode featuring their parents—and it’s as eye-opening as you’d want it to be.

If you cringe at awkward scenes, prepare to fold yourself in half during Dead Ringers’ many social occasions. Basically anytime anyone is sitting down to eat, something mortifying comes out of the interaction. Episode two’s dinner soiree at Rebecca’s lavish estate will have you screaming—both with laughter (you can’t miss the obvious Gwyneth Paltrow caricature) and in abject horror at just how awful and soulless these people are. The satire when it comes to Dead Ringers’ view of the many wealthy assholes who populate its ranks can be rather broad, but it’s also highly entertaining.

10 / 15

Despite Elliot’s best attempts at sabotage, Beverly manages to fall in love with an outside force: Genevieve (Britne Oldford), a famous actress who tolerates the twins’ eerie closeness until she has reason to rightfully declare the situation is neither healthy nor appropriate. Genevieve exists mostly to cause conflict between the sisters, but Oldford makes her feel like a real person confronting the fact that her girlfriend, who she genuinely cares for, is tangled in some seriously powerful blood ties. There are also some nifty Cronenberg references present here: Claire, Beverly’s girlfriend in the 1988 film, was played by Genevieve Bujold; Claire is also the name of Genevieve’s character on her hit TV show—a zombie drama with a very Cronenberg-ian title, Rabid.

11 / 15

Making the main characters women was an excellent if obvious way to ensure the Dead Ringers series would follow its own path. Six hours of streaming also allows for a much more expanded story. But the unique tone of Cronenberg’s original film—a blend of ghastly horror, gut-wrenching sorrow, the sinking realization that with great intellect can also come great madness, and blasts of weird humor—carries over. Though the series doesn’t follow every beat of the movie (and in fact diverges quite a bit at times), it still feels like an imaginative companion piece to what came before.

12 / 15

Poppy Liu plays Greta, a sort of maid/chef/personal assistant to the Mantles who keeps their home in order, which is no small task. (It’s a layered, chameleonic performance, so no slight to Liu.) We can tell by Greta’s peculiar habits that she has an ulterior motive for sticking around, but the eventual reveal isn’t as shocking or cathartic as Dead Ringers seems to think it is. Then, as Greta’s storyline is playing out, we meet Silas, a journalist played by Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine. Again, it’s a fine performance, but the character feels more like a plot device shoved in to help the series find its ending.

13 / 15

Dead Ringers acknowledges privilege in overt ways—one example being how Rebecca makes it very clear she doesn’t see why the birthing center should be accessible to the unwashed masses. There’s also an unhoused character who shows up to remind us the Mantles are well-off even if they aren’t in Rebecca’s uber-rich stratosphere. But Dead Ringers only makes passing references to how women of color often face additional hardships when seeking maternal healthcare... until a heavy-handed monologue late in the series tries to do way too much in just one scene.

14 / 15

There are famous pop songs scattered throughout Dead Ringers, including a fresh needle drop with each end credits sequence, and they tend to offer commentary on what’s come before with the delicate touch of a sledgehammer. Perhaps they’re meant as lighthearted ways to cut through the considerable tension that mounds with each episode, and the ‘80s jams do slyly nod to the 1988 film. But even still, “Tainted Love,” “Don’t You Want Me,” and more fill a playlist that feels a bit too on the nose for a show that otherwise strives to be, and mostly succeeds at, being an altogether unique viewing experience. But if Dead Ringers is aiming to be the opposite of subtle—creator Alice Birch and star Weisz did use the word “operatic” to describe it—maybe the song choices make sense after all.

All six episodes of Dead Ringers hit Prime Video April 21.

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