Unlocking Pretty Little Liars
Lessons from Pretty Little Liars' Plot Dynamics
Let me preface my critique by expressing my longstanding appreciation for Pretty Little Liars. As a dedicated fan, I recognize the show's significant success and its status as one of the last 100+ episode teen dramas. However, even with its accomplishments, the series is not without its flaws.
Primarily, Pretty Little Liars, initially a captivating mystery, loses the essential elements that make a mystery compelling as the series progresses. A mystery's allure is intricately tied to its hook, pacing, tension, and character development. The introduction of the central mystery surrounding the identity of 'A,' combined with the four main characters' secrets and the death of Alison, initially draws the audience in. Unfortunately, as the series unfolds, new mysteries take center stage that are repetitive and consequently less compelling. This repetition is exacerbated by underdeveloped characters who often feel disconnected from the main protagonists.
The Leading Ladies
As the series progresses, the once-prominent focus on Aria's family and personal struggles takes a backseat, with her narrative increasingly centered around her relationship with Ezra. While many characters' growth is intertwined with their love interests, Aria's character development becomes stagnant, leaving her in a perplexing state.
Originally established as the potential frontman of the ensemble, Aria's character drifts into a mellowed version of a manic pixie dream girl, particularly due to her enduring relationship with Ezra. The show labels her as the compassionate one, despite other Liars consistently displaying more instances of compassion. Aria's actions often reveal a selfish and inconsiderate nature, challenging the characterization assigned to her. While she doesn't necessarily need to be a 'good' person, the discrepancy between how she's labeled and how she's presented creates confusion in her portrayal, especially since she’s not being written as a victim of Ezra’s grooming.
Lucy Hale's acknowledgment that 'Aria is always missing in action'1 underscores the lack of individual agency in Aria's storyline, frequently overshadowed by her relationship dynamics. Even when Aria elects to help A.D., a rare plot point not directly tied to Ezra, he ends up being her motivation. This circular loop of confusion is exemplified by the convoluted logic behind Aria's decision to assist A.D. – a threat to expose a report she filled out about Ezra's crimes. The most straightforward solution, a conversation with Ezra and a refusal to press charges, would have negated the supposed threat, especially considering the statute of limitations. Here, the narrative missed a crucial opportunity to make Shauna's death more meaningful, as murder has no statute of limitations. Aria's motivation to avoid jail, with the specter of Shauna's death looming, would have added depth and resonance to her character, aligning her actions with a more compelling and coherent narrative arc.
Shifting focus to Emily, after the completion of her coming-out arc and the aftermath of Maya's death, her character experiences a significant lull until she's deemed necessary to the mystery. Emily's subsequent storylines, such as her involvement with Sara Harvey, selling her eggs, Wayne's death and dropping out of school, and her coaching job, are notably sparse. The missed opportunities for emotional depth in these storylines underscore a key issue – Emily's role in the mystery becomes interchangeable with any of the other Liars at that point in the series.
The lack of emotional exploration in Emily's storylines is particularly egregious given the narrative opportunities presented. Her relationship with Sara, for instance, could have delved into Emily's need to focus on Sara's trauma rather than her own, or explored why she became attached to a character described as someone like Alison rather than Alison herself. These avenues could have allowed Emily the space to grow as a character beyond the confines of the mystery.
In Emily's egg donation storyline, the show inexplicably treats the plot as if donating her eggs means all of her reproductive options are exhausted, overlooking the fact that Emily was only 23 at the time. The conclusion of this storyline lacks depth, and Emily's passive role in the situation raises questions about the show's failure to explore her motivations in wanting a baby suddenly. This issue extends to Emily's relationships, both romantic and otherwise, where the show falls short in providing the necessary depth and exploration. Paige, as a significant on-and-off love interest, remains underdeveloped, and her characterization fluctuates, exacerbating the flaws in Emily's character arc and Paige as a whole.
On the contrary, Spencer receives the opposite treatment. While the show can be forgiven for centering its best actor, this shift forgets the premise it had set up – the liars as the main characters in a story about Alison. Despite essentially being a ghost, Alison remains an active character throughout the early seasons, with her past actions affecting the current situation. However, upon her return, the show loses its narrative identity, and Spencer takes over in that place. Unfortunately, Spencer becomes a passive character, with bad events seemingly happening to her without her agency.
The inflation of Spencer’s character also inflates the importance of other characters connected to her, notably Toby. Toby, not initially a love interest in the source books, becomes one in the series. This alteration erases parts of his character background that laid the foundation for motivation in the initial 'A' reveal. In the books, Toby was sexually assaulting Jenna, and Alison2 was helping Jenna stop Toby by setting off the fireworks. Mona witnesses this without knowing their plan and uses it as part of her motivation for being 'A.' Toby also gains additional backstory with his mom, tying to the reveal of the second 'A.' This storyline directly interferes with the Charlotte timeline, and the conclusion contradicts Toby’s original motivation, as he initially wanted people to know that his mother did not commit suicide but ends up accepting money with the stipulation that he can’t disclose what truly happened to his mother.
Despite the inflation of characters important to her, Spencer's characterization remains genuinely consistent and well done. Her addiction is a recurring presence, and her family drama is comparable to that of the DiLaurentis', contributing to her complex portrayal. While Spencer is allowed to be flawed and complex throughout most of the series, there are no individual actions from her character that set off any of the major events in the later seasons.
Similarly, Hanna's character undergoes commendable progression, evolving over the course of the series. However, her development reaches a point of stagnation, primarily revolving around her impulsive nature. This trait becomes a defining characteristic for Hanna, persisting throughout the entire series without substantial growth. The recurrent reckless decisions she makes, ranging from destroying evidence to attempting a murder weapon cover-up, reflect a consistent pattern. The attempt to depict Hanna as secretly intelligent contradicts her continued engagement in thoughtless actions, creating a dissonance that might leave the audience questioning the coherence of her character portrayal.
While her impulsive actions serve to advance the plot, the overarching issue lies in Hanna's failure to learn from her repeated mistakes. This raises the question of the purpose behind her character's evolution if there is no tangible growth. The depiction of a love triangle in seasons 6 and 7 further complicates Hanna's character arc, providing a negative outlook. It's noteworthy that Hanna's granting of permission for Spencer to pursue a relationship with Caleb takes a tumultuous turn when, post her relationship with Jordan, she exhibits unapologetic disrespect for Spencer and Caleb's relationship. This dynamic foreshadows potential conflicts that could add layers to the character dynamics in the later stages of the series.
Last but not least, let's delve into Alison Dilaurentis. As previously mentioned, the Liars are the central characters in a story revolving around Alison, making the quality of her character's writing crucial for the show's success. It's not surprising that the general consensus is that the show's quality declined towards the end of the 5th season, coinciding with the decision to thrust Alison fully into an antagonistic role, only to retract it, reintroduce it, and repeat the cycle. My most controversial take is that Alison isn't a compelling central antagonist for this show; she works best as a complex deuteragonist. While an antagonist typically exists to oppose the protagonist, Alison actually shares the same goal as the Liars: to find and stop 'A'. However, it is in her methods and willingness to do whatever it takes that she clashes with the Liars.
Similar to the ambiguity around Mona's allegiance to the Liars, the show never fully committed to portraying Alison as either a friend or a foe until the final few episodes. After season 5, the narrative gains nothing by still labeling Alison as a villain and the same applies to Mona. A well-thought-out redemption arc for Alison presents a more engaging prospect than reducing her to a mean girl who initiated and perpetrated the chaos. Alison's character possesses a wealth of depth and complexity that should not be overlooked by reducing her to a simplistic portrayal of evil. It is unreasonable to expect a character in a series to remain unchanged throughout the story. Without character growth, the narrative loses its purpose and meaning3.
Alison's most compelling moments arise when the audience and the characters grapple with the question of whether she's sincere or manipulative, and the answer consistently straddles the line between the two. A redemption arc for Alison wouldn't necessarily mean erasing all the negative aspects of her personality. Unfortunately, the show strips her of her entire personality, as if the Liars didn't love her for who she was. Given Alison's character setup, her redemption could have taken various paths, but it required her to set aside self-preservation instincts to fit into the changed group dynamic.
The show falters in attempting to redeem Alison because it prefers to tell rather than show any changes. Moreover, any changes intended to depict growth are coupled with characters she never wronged. Curiously, the show seems more concerned with redeeming Alison in the eyes of Lorenzo or Rollins than addressing her mistreatment of the friends we saw her hurt. This lack of attention in Alison's redemption arc can be attributed to the problematic notion that a female character's worth is determined by the man she's with.
This issue extends beyond Alison, as male characters in the show are portrayed as having no agency when it comes to women, especially teenage girls. Their actions are conveniently blamed on the circumstances and the influence of these girls, perpetuating a narrative where men are mere victims of the wiles of teenagers. For reasons I cannot understand, Alison is blamed for things she had nothing to do with as if people have no agency or responsibility in their actions. Additionally, the show places more importance on the intent of male characters than on the consequences of their actions.
Love Interests and Relationships
"If action is character, then who is Alison?" This ironic quote, attributed to Toby Cavannaugh quoting F. Scott Fitzgerald, prompts a look at Toby's character. Initially favoring Toby as the primary male love interest in the first two seasons, a reexamination reveals an oversight in how the actions of male characters were often excused due to perceived good intentions. Both Ezra and Toby displayed a pattern where their actions or inaction caused more harm to the women they purportedly loved.
It is crucial to clarify that questioning these characters' actions is an evaluation of behavior, not an entire character analysis. However, if such questioning is frequent, it invites consideration as to whether it genuinely reflects their character. This sets the stage for an analysis of the relationships in the series.
Toby
Spencer and Toby's relationship is riddled with more arguments than positive moments. The series portrays it as if it is challenging for Toby to be with Spencer due to his supposedly superior morals.
In season 3, Toby joins the 'A' team seemingly to help Spencer. Unfortunately, this decision yields no meaningful information about 'A' or Red Coat and inflicts significant pain on Spencer. While Toby does offer an apology, it raises the question of whether an apology suffices when he actively assisted her stalker and bully. The issue remains unaddressed adequately, as Toby's storyline in season 4 revolves around his mother's death, immediately placing him in a position of vulnerability that shields him from further scrutiny. Even in this vulnerable state, Toby compels Spencer to keep another significant secret, echoing the alienation she felt upon discovering his 'A' team involvement.
By the end of season 4, Spencer experiences a relapse, and Toby's initial response is to question why she didn't share her struggles sooner. The fact that she did not come to him is an indictment of what she feels comfortable telling him. Ironically, anytime Toby faces issues, he tends to leave, exemplified when he departs for London while Spencer is in recovery for said addiction. In Season 5, Toby joins the police force, a source of turmoil for the Liars, ostensibly to help Spencer from within. However, once again, he provides no helpful information and even ignores Spencer when her revelations pose a moral dilemma for him. This raises doubts about the kind of assistance he could genuinely provide, which ends up being effectively nothing as they all get arrested and promptly kidnapped at the end of the season.
Ezra
There are glaring issues in Ezra and Aria's relationship, and even setting aside the moral concerns, Ezra's conduct is deeply troubling. Actively pursuing a teenager with the intention of exploiting her and her friends' trauma for his literary career paints Ezra as a morally reprehensible character. The show goes to great lengths to portray him as a decent human being, going so far as to vilify anyone who opposes their relationship. Noel, initially portrayed as a jerky jock, becomes a target simply for suggesting he would accompany Aria to talk to the principal about Ezra. Regardless, Ezra consistently withholds significant information about himself, including past engagements, his Fitzgerald lineage, and his high school girlfriend's pregnancy, acting surprised when Aria expresses distress over these revelations.
To compound matters, their relationship is characterized by monotony. They face different variations of the same problem, and obstacles lack any lasting impact. The revelation about his son not being his is employed as a contrived means to reunite them. Jackie's departure from Hollis, tainted by her plagiarism, is conveniently overlooked. Ezra's professional shifts between Rosewood High and Hollis are glossed over, with the ethical implications left largely unaddressed.
Reminiscent of the tactics employed by 'A', Ezra's elaborate efforts to conceal his book underscore the sinister nature of his actions. However, unlike characters such as Alison and Mona, Ezra's deception is downplayed. He escapes accountability for his manipulation. It gets pushed into the background and forgotten by the following season. Mentions of the book specifically note it as research rather than highlighting his manipulation and deception, unlike Alison and Mona who are defined by such actions. Ezra is granted forgiveness without having to work for it, merely because he suffered one consequence while following and stalking the Liars again in being shot by Shauna.
To add insult to injury, Aria's college admission letter suggests her high school experience was marred by being with an older guy, yet the narrative positions Ezra as a hero for "letting her go," as if the damage was not already done, with no real acknowledgment of how Aria could have actually found more distinct enjoyment in high school outside of 'A' because she was with him. Post time jump, she takes a job with his publisher in an attempt to get closer to him. The narrative seems tailored to cater to Ezra's character rather than prioritizing the more central character, Aria.
Caleb
In the context of Caleb and Hanna's relationship, Caleb initially stood out as a character not originally intended to be a permanent love interest, particularly since he did not exist in the source material. This absence allowed him to seamlessly integrate into the narrative, unburdened by pre-existing characterizations from the books. His role was aptly molded to complement Hanna's character, and the absence of constraints from the source material contributed to the success of their dynamic.
However, as the series progressed, Caleb's character evolved, taking on a protector role. While the intention behind this portrayal isn't inherently negative, it becomes problematic by the final season when Caleb transforms into more of a "father knows best" figure rather than an equal partner, despite their marriage and shared goal of starting a family. This shift raises questions about the agency within their relationship because ultimately Caleb and Hanna get back together because Spencer breaks up with Caleb and not Caleb deciding Hanna is who he wants to be with.
The introduction of Spencer and Caleb's relationship, although not universally appreciated, shed light on the issues within Caleb and Hanna's dynamic. Notably, Caleb treats Spencer in a different manner than he does Hanna. The distinction lies in the way Caleb provides space for Spencer to navigate her problems independently, allowing her to come to him freely. In contrast, with Hanna, there is a recurring pattern where Caleb assumes she can't handle challenges on her own, leading him to intervene whether she wants it or not. This pattern becomes particularly pronounced when observed consistently, especially when compared to the dynamics within Spencer and Caleb's relationship.
Except for Ezria, all the couples in the series initially showcased the potential to bring out the best in each other and act as balancing forces. However, as the narrative progressed, there seemed to be a loss of focus on what initially made each relationship compelling. The evolving dynamics, particularly in Caleb and Hanna's case, highlighted a shift away from mutual support and balance towards a more unbalanced and paternalistic dynamic, creating a departure from the initial appeal of these relationships.
Maya/Paige/Alison
In the intricate web of Emily's love interests, Maya, Paige, and Alison each carry asterisks that denote issues in the portrayals. Starting with Maya, her character falls into the disposable black girlfriend trope4, seemingly existing more as a means for Emily to explore her sexuality. Her death, unrelated to the core mystery or 'A,' could be perceived as punishment for being bisexual, considering the motive behind it was her alleged "leading on" of Lyndon. Lyndon's aggression towards Jenna, another bisexual character, raises concerns about the show's handling of bisexual characters. Despite Maya's imperfections, her understanding and sweet nature served as a crucial support for Emily. However, her death primarily exists to add tragedy to Emily's storyline, and the impact diminishes over subsequent seasons. Toby and Mona’s fake deaths have more important long standing effects in the show than Maya’s actual one.
Paige, as another significant love interest, faces challenges in characterization consistency. Depending on the writer, Paige's character undergoes noticeable shifts. The prominence of other love interests, like Ezra, Caleb, and Toby, is evident in their considerable screen time. Ezra, appearing in 124 episodes, Caleb in 102, and Toby in 91, significantly outpace Paige's meager 45 appearances. This partly contributes to a lack of resonance Paige has within the fandom. Much of Paige and Emily's relationship occurs offscreen, with the few onscreen glimpses showcasing the more challenging aspects. This scarcity of positive moments makes it challenging for fans to connect with Paige as a character, especially when compared to other more prominently featured love interests. The entirety of their relationship can be summarized as Paige begging Emily to love her the same way she had no issues loving Maya or Alison. At a certain point, it raises the question as to why Paige is fighting so hard for a relationship that Emily treats as a second choice.
The potential of Emily and Alison's relationship lies not in what it ultimately became, but in the intriguing possibilities it held. Initially, their dynamic was captivating because despite Alison's flaws, Emily saw beyond the exterior Alison maintained. Emily perceived Alison as more than just her worst parts. Conversely, Alison, depicted as a manipulative bully, played a role in encouraging Emily, who was initially passive and naive, to strive for more than the circumstances dealt to her. The beauty of their connection was rooted in the complexity and depth it added to the narrative.
Alison's questionable intentions, given her manipulative nature, often overshadow the possibility that she might have genuinely harbored feelings for Emily. It's a nuanced relationship where manipulation and genuine emotions can coexist. The moments between Emily and Alison during the period when Alison was thought to be "dead" are more thought-out and meaningful than those depicted when they officially become a couple. The show, in its attempt to redeem Alison, seemed to strip her of the defining characteristics that made her intriguing, as if toning down Alison was the only way to justify their relationship. The richness of their dynamic was sacrificed for a simplified narrative.
Despite Paige's departure in season 5 and the subsequent time jump, the series misses opportunities to explore the intricacies of a relationship between Emily and Alison or Emily and anyone for that matter. This lack of exploration leaves viewers wondering about the potential challenges and growth within their relationship. They are hastily put together in the eleventh hour of the show, and by the time of "The Perfectionists", they are divorced. The worst part is that the dissolution of their relationship is not justified by the introduction of a better love interest for Emily. The lack of development and exploration of any of Emily’s relationships, despite its initial promise, is a missed opportunity that leaves fans with a sense of unfulfilled potential and an underwhelming conclusion to a once-compelling dynamics.
Character Deaths
A significant problem arises from the abundance of deaths within the series, many of which lack meaningful consequences or a profound impact on the story. The frequency of deaths, often treated as plot devices rather than integral elements of character development, diminishes the emotional weight and significance they could bring to the narrative.
In its pursuit of suspense and shock value, the show often sacrifices the depth and substance that could have been derived from a more thoughtful and strategic use of character deaths. Each major event should prompt the question: 'So what does this mean for the story, and why do I care?' Character deaths fall squarely into this category. While some, like Ian and Wilden's deaths, may be logically connected to the narrative, others, such as Garrett Reynolds, become victims of the show's tendency to overlook the lasting impact of character demise.
Garrett's death serves as a poignant example of this oversight. His character enters and exits the narrative without leaving any meaningful consequences. The mishandling of the NAT club, a potential source of video proof revealing various secrets and crimes in the town, further contributes to the lack of significance surrounding Garrett's demise. Despite being killed by Wilden with Melissa implicated, his death is swiftly overshadowed by subsequent events, and the police never discover his murderer or involvement in the NAT club. They never find out Ian’s involvement either, but his death is paired with a false statement of guilt in Alison’s murder. The absence of personal ramifications for the characters and the absence of consequences dilute the emotional weight of his death, rendering it forgettable. Jenna, who had a relationship with Garrett, shows more emotion when Sara Harvey dies than when he does.
Sara Harvey’s death is treated as a joke by the writers. Defined by her incessant showers, she is killed in the shower, reflecting the show's disregard for any potential depth of her character. Even though her relationship with Emily may have been stale and poorly manufactured, Emily's reaction to her death, reduced to a watered-down line, fails to capture any emotional complexity that should accompany the loss, especially given their shared trauma after the dollhouse experience and subsequent relationship. Yes, Sara betrayed and lied to her, but it doesn’t change the fact that Emily did have feelings for her at one point.
Maya's death, on the other hand, is one of the few instances where the show allows a character's demise to have a lasting impact, particularly on Emily. However, after her killer is found, Maya is mentioned only a handful of times, diminishing the narrative significance of her death. While Emily's character should not be defined solely by the tragic death of her first girlfriend, the impact of Maya's positive influence on her life and her tragic demise should have lingered longer.
Noel's beheading, a visually shocking event, is met with an astonishing lack of aftermath. The Liars face no police scrutiny, and the consequences of Hanna's kidnapping and recording of her crime have no lasting impact beyond the episode. Noel's character, though inflated in the final season, lacks the depth of a true antagonist, as his motivations seem rooted more in petty grievances than a substantial threat.
The show's handling of character deaths highlights a broader issue where shock value deaths coexist with those that should have held more narrative weight, such as Maya, Shauna, and Yvonne.
Among the deaths that should have had more profound significance, we find Wayne, Charlotte, Jessica, and Bethany Young. Wayne's death, as one of two of the only parent deaths in the series, should have had a more distinct and personal impact on Emily. His absence, coupled with Emily's admission of failing classes and dropping out of school, suggests a significant emotional struggle that the audience is unfortunately denied witnessing in favor of Ezra’s last spat with Nicole before she’s kidnapped.
Jessica's murder, intricately linked to the show's central mystery, should have had a more extensive exploration of its aftermath. Jessica's unique knowledge about the night Alison disappeared and her last interaction with her daughter, burying her alive, demands a deeper exploration of how this event affected Alison. Unfortunately, the narrative sidelines Alison's character in later seasons, preventing a meaningful exploration of the long term emotional fallout.
Bethany Young, initially a surprise name drop, is tethered to threads rather than integral to the central mystery. Despite her connection to Charlotte and Mrs. DiLaurentis, the limited screen time for both characters prevents Bethany's significance from becoming fully integrated into the overarching narrative. Her responsibility for Marion Cavanaugh's death adds a layer to her character, yet the disproportionate focus on Marion's death in Season 4 doesn't translate into a meaningful exploration of Bethany's role in the larger mystery.
The show struggles to balance the shock value deaths with those that should have carried more weight, leaving the audience with a fragmented understanding of the emotional and narrative consequences associated with each character's demise.
The Bad Big Bads
While the introduction of a secret twin was a questionable choice, the nonsensical nature of Alex Drake's motivation further detracts from the audience's engagement. While the initial premise of seeking her sister's killer and suspecting the main characters is promising, the abrupt revelation that she figured out Mona was the murderer before the Liars raises questions about her motives, seeing as Mona is not punished by her once it’s revealed. A more developed narrative, akin to the relationship between Charlotte and Alex, would have provided essential build-up, making the story more cohesive.
Moreover, by the second flashforward, Alex's desire to replace Spencer and her belief in Toby's love for her feels undercut by her actions, such as dating and killing another one of Spencer's exes, Wren. This inconsistency not only weakens the character's arc but also reflects broader issues in the show's storytelling. Alex like many other antagonist or antagonistic characters don’t exist beyond their antagonist nature to the Liars.
Turning to a character like Shauna, her narrative raises significant questions about the show's storytelling. While sent to Rosewood by Alison to watch and get close to Jenna, Shauna's motivations remain unclear. The lack of a clear explanation for her actions, coupled with the absence of depth in her relationship with Alison and Jenna, leaves viewers puzzled. Even though Shauna is temporarily mistaken as 'A' due to her actions in the season 5 premiere, the show fails to provide a satisfying exploration of her character's breaking point and the dynamics of her relationship with the character that got her involved in the story.
The introduction of Sara Harvey in Pretty Little Liars exemplifies a significant narrative misstep. Introduced in Season 4 as a potential suspect in the mystery surrounding Alison's grave, Sara remains largely unknown until Season 6. While the show attempts to provide some character backstory through her friends and describes her as essentially an 'Alison from another town,' it fails to convincingly establish why she is relevant to the broader events in Rosewood.
The question of Sara's relevance becomes even more pressing when she is assigned pivotal roles as both Red Coat and Black Veil. Despite the anticipation built around the identities of these characters, the show disappointingly neglects to answer why she holds these crucial positions in the overarching mystery.
Sara's involvement takes a further confusing turn as she is thrust into a forced romance with Emily. This relationship seems contrived and lacks a meaningful foundation, serving primarily as a plot device to invoke a sense of betrayal. Which is a shame, because it could’ve explored Emily’s need to save the women she’s attracted to or explore why Emily was pursuing an Alison knockoff when she could’ve focused on the real Alison. However, this narrative choice falls flat due to Sara's inadequately developed character and the absence of a clear motive behind her actions5.
In contrast, Archer Dunhill, another character facing similar narrative challenges, is at least given a believable, albeit shallow, motive6. While his actions may align with this motive, the overall execution still leaves room for improvement. Both Sara and Archer share the common issue of actions that don't convincingly match the level of malice directed at the Liars. This discrepancy undermines the impact of their characters and diminishes the overall effectiveness of the narrative.
The most baffling aspect of Pretty Little Liars lies in its ability to craft captivating antagonists and subsequently squander their potential. Characters like Wilden, Ian, Season 4 Ezra, CeCe, Mona, Melissa, Jenna, and Flashback Alison, showcase the show's prowess in creating compelling villains. However, for every promising antagonist, there seems to be either underutilization or premature termination of their arcs.
The deaths of Ian and Wilden are somewhat understandable, considering the looming consequences of Alison's return and the relationships these characters had with her. However, the untapped potential in exploring their scrambling to prevent her from revealing their secrets could have provided compelling television. Their knowledge and power standings kept the Liars on their toes, necessitating clever strategies to outsmart them.
Season 4 Ezra, despite the eventual reveal that he was writing a book, embodied the traits of an effective antagonist. His manipulations, corrupt morals, and lengths to conceal his secrets made him a menacing presence. Unfortunately, his character took an abrupt turn, walking back the depth created in the storyline, primarily due to external factors like his shooting and pre-existing relationships with the Liars, specifically Aria.
Jenna, with a legitimate reason to harbor resentment, becomes an intriguing antagonist due to her history with the Liars. Their role in the aftermath of her sexual assault of Toby, coupled with their complicity in the incident that led to her blindness, justifies her prolonged anger. Her character stands out as one who could sustain significance throughout the series.
Jessica Dilaurentis, though not an antagonist in the traditional sense, represents a complex and morally corrupt figure. Her parenting choices and the echoes of Alison's behavior present a fascinating exploration. The show hints at her manipulative tendencies, and her relationship with her sister, Mary Drake, reveals a willingness to manipulate situations for personal gain. She’s not a character I would describe as menacing, but rather dangerous if you get in her way, much like Alison and Charlotte.
Despite the strength of characters in Pretty Little Liars, the show consistently falls short in fully capitalizing on their potential. Premature deaths and underdeveloped character arcs contribute to this missed opportunity, limiting the impact these characters could have had on the overarching narrative. Having bad antagonists make the main characters look dumb for not suspecting them.
Key Moments
The series is punctuated by several key moments, including the Mona reveal, Charlotte reveal, Dollhouse, Alison revealed to be alive, Ezra's Book, Toby in the black hoodie, Maya's death, Wilden's death, Ghost train, and the time jump. While the 'A' reveals and Alison's survival take precedence in the mystery-driven narrative, other moments each hold lasting importance in their own right. A few moments have been briefly touched on, but a few require a better examination.
Mona's reveal is the most effective among the three major 'A' reveals. In the show, her motivation is attributed to the girls supposedly stealing Hanna from her, coupled with Alison's bullying, leading her to become 'A.' The introduction of Adrenalized hyperreality, while not a real disorder, is seen as a narrative device, avoiding potential stigmatization associated with real mental health issues. It is a bit of lazy writing, but the show has shown not to be great at portrayal of mental illness so a fictitious one was the best choice. The show deviates from the book's plot by allowing Mona to survive post-reveal. She transitions from a menacing presence to a reluctant ally, with a shift in her dynamic with the Liars throughout the series.
In the Season 5 midseason finale, the Liars turn to Mona because they are disillusioned with Alison and believe Mona's claims that Alison is 'A.' However, it is noted that Mona had expressed a desire to see Alison gone since her return, even assisting Alison in leaving town for her own benefit and building an army to keep her away. This creates a narrative inconsistency, as Mona's actions and motives seem at odds with the Liars' sudden trust in her during this particular storyline.
In Season 7, Mona, who was responsible for Charlotte's murder, is included in the voting process to determine the culprit behind Charlotte's death. While Mona's presence adds dynamic elements to the series, the recurring issue is her being frequently cast as the default guilty party for various mysteries, despite moments where she genuinely wants to be part of the group. This pattern diminishes the depth of her character and undermines her potential for growth.
Ultimately, Mona is portrayed as expecting forgiveness from characters without extending grace to those who wronged her. The writers successfully capture this essential aspect of Alison's "redemption" – if she wants to be seen as changed, she cannot dismiss another character's attempt at improvement, like Charlotte though that is another Alison storyline not developed well. Alison is allowed moments of anger, but they remain fleeting and do not evolve into enduring grudges by the finale two seasons.
Mona is not obligated to forgive Alison or Charlotte, but if the goal is for her to be considered a Liar, the narrative requires her to overcome long-standing issues with Alison, especially when Alison extends an olive branch, regardless of its sincerity. The Liars and Alison are a package deal, and it's notable that the best moments of collaboration often occur when Alison isn't present. For Mona to align with the goal of being considered a Liar, the narrative would benefit from addressing and resolving these lingering issues. This includes Mona being more upfront, working openly with the Liars, and showcasing a willingness to fully integrate into the group instead of positioning herself as a mysterious background figure. The narrative would benefit from providing Mona with opportunities for genuine growth and development beyond her role as a convenient suspect and perpetrator at times.
The reveal of Charlotte as 'A' is lackluster, marked by a drawn-out debate on whether Charles DiLaurentis is alive or dead for several episodes. Despite attempts to add emotional impact as far as the Dilaurentis siblings go, the narrative falls short in exploring the impact of Charlotte's actions on Jason, Alison, and the Liars. If Alison had discovered CeCe as Charlotte and 'A' earlier, the narrative could have delved into a more nuanced exploration of her complex identity, allowing for a better understanding of the situation as Alison is reluctant and sympathetic to this mystery sibling.
The reveal unfolds as a back-and-forth conversation between Alison and Charlotte, with the Liars providing commentary from a separate scene. The detached nature of the Liars' observations makes the reveal feel orchestrated by the writers rather than earned by the characters. In contrast, Spencer's realization of Mona as 'A' just before Mona reveals herself, coupled with the Liars discovering the recording software on Hanna's phone, presents a more compelling and earned resolution. Charlotte's apparent and abrupt surrender, despite her previous adeptness at outsmarting the incompetent Rosewood police, raises questions about her final characterization.
The time jump held immense potential to address the shortcomings of the Charlotte reveal and respond to the audience's criticisms. Following the five-year gap, the characters seemed to experience minimal development. The narrative failed to capitalize on the myriad possibilities that the time jump could have offered in terms of character growth and evolving storylines.
Despite the potential for significant changes, the characters appeared to be in suspended animation, with little alteration in their personalities. The lack of substantial differences in their circumstances contributed to a sense of missed opportunities in exploring the aftermath of the time jump.
The murder of Dunhill in Season 7 marked a soft reboot that injected urgency and relevance into the narrative. Unlike the second half of Season 6, this storyline provided the Liars with a compelling reason to stay in Rosewood. The presence of alibis with video proof, willingly destroyed by the characters, added an intriguing layer to the plot.
Charlotte's death sets the stage for the time jump, but its significance diminishes until A.D. emerges with the intention of finding her murderer. The narrative shift focuses on the Liars unintentionally killing Archer Dunhill, leading to a captivating storyline as they scramble to cover up their serious crime. The flawed attempts to conceal their mistake add an element of intrigue, offering moments of both tension and amusement.
While the storyline is engaging, it is not without its issues. The portrayal of the police department's incompetence, while contributing to the narrative, could have been improved for a more nuanced portrayal. Instances of characters digging up the buried body to ensure death and voting for Charlotte's murderer with the actual killer present introduce moments of sheer stupidity that detract from the overall cohesiveness of the plot. Despite the presence of intriguing ideas, the narrative is marked by a mix of both compelling and flawed elements.
Alison's five-year journey of taking care of Charlotte lacks exploration into the development of their relationship and the significance it holds for Alison. While audiences can infer Alison's desperation for a semblance of family, the narrative misses the opportunity to delve into the emotional intricacies and reveal why this relationship is crucial for Alison's character. A potential storyline could have explored the realization that family extends beyond biology, emphasizing the importance of the Liars as her chosen family.
The decision to have Alison become pregnant introduces a disturbing element, as her pregnancy turns into pseudo surrogacy for Emily without addressing the apparent consent violation. Ignoring the consent of two women to force them into a relationship adds an unnecessary and problematic layer to the narrative. Meanwhile, convincing the audience that Emily would willingly raise a child with Alison, regardless of the father, could have been achieved with minimal effort.
Emily's character during the time jump lacks depth, and the narrative overlooks the opportunity for her to reckon with the loss of her father. This oversight is especially glaring when compared to Ezra, who gets to explore the complexities of dealing with Nicole's apparent death, only to discover she is alive. Emily, facing a life without her father, could have provided a compelling storyline, especially when contrasted with Alison navigating life without her mom, dad, Charlotte, or Jason while raising a child. The potential for solace and growth in their shared experiences was present, but the writers chose not to explore this story.
Aria's storyline takes an interesting turn when she is blackmailed by A.D. to assist in torturing her friends. However, this narrative eventually reverts to being Ezra-focused. A.D. compels Aria's cooperation by threatening to file a police report she previously filled out, accusing Ezra of taking advantage of her after the book's revelation. As mentioned before the storyline overlooks Aria's involvement in Shauna's death as a potentially more sensible motivation for her betrayal of friends.
Ezra, a wealthy white man with influential family ties, was Aria's fiancé, making it plausible for him to escape consequences easily. This narrative dynamic, coupled with the distracting subplot of Nicole's capture by Nicaraguan revolutionaries , creates a frustrating viewing experience. Any focus on Nicole, rather than Emily, who should rightfully be a more pivotal character and was Nicole's friend first, adds to the overall dissatisfaction with the inclusion of this storyline.
The central issue in Aria and Ezra's relationship boils down to their unwillingness to communicate effectively about major problems. Their collaboration on writing a book about Ezra's relationship with Nicole adds little interest to the narrative. While there is some initial intrigue with Aria ghostwriting for Ezra without his knowledge, this plot point is swiftly resolved in a single episode, contributing to the overall lack of stakes in these two seasons.
The concluding segment of the time jump that warrants discussion is the love triangle. This was evidently crafted as an obstacle for Caleb and Hanna to surmount, portraying both characters in an unfavorable light. Despite this, Spencer bears a disproportionate amount of criticism for the situation. The storyline fails to convincingly establish why Hanna would choose to marry Jordan, undermining the credibility of any substantial relationship between Caleb and Spencer. The impact is further diminished by the inexplicable death of Toby's wife immediately after their marriage7.
Shock Value and Fan Service
Accommodating the desires of your audience is not inherently negative; it can be a smart strategy to sustain or enhance the appeal of a narrative. Balancing fan expectations with creative storytelling is a delicate process that, when done well, can contribute positively to a series. The show initially demonstrated an ability to strike this balance, catering to audience preferences while maintaining quality and creativity.
However, as the series progressed, the execution of certain ideas was compromised by the pursuit of shock value reveals. This had an impact on various aspects of the narrative, including relationships, character deaths, and fakeout reveals. The reliance on shock value sometimes overshadowed the strategic balance and creativity needed to maintain a cohesive and compelling storyline.
Representation at what cost
The portrayal of Black characters in the show reflects both a limited quantity and a problematic trend in their outcomes. Among the four Black women with speaking roles in multiple episodes, only one, Big Rhonda, survives, presenting a troubling representation due to her association with an offensive stereotype. Big Rhonda does not warrant a deeper discussion as she is reduced to a stereotype.
In the case of Maya, her character's fate is particularly perplexing. Maya could have been retained as a character if the writer’s insisted on her removal as a love interest for Emily. That did not necessarily have to result in her death, adding to the puzzlement surrounding her storyline.
The treatment of Shauna in the narrative introduces suspicions tied to her relationship with Jenna, suggesting a connection to the Jenna Thing. However, the story takes an unexpected turn as Shauna attempts to kill Alison as revenge for Jenna. This motive becomes questionable, given that Shauna was the only person aware of Alison's location and could have acted before anyone knew that she was alive. Shauna's death is seemingly overshadowed by subsequent events, particularly Mona's fake death, and is not mentioned past Mona’s fake death.
Yvonne's death is the most perplexing, considering alternative narrative choices. Her character could have been written out or the relationship with Toby ended without resorting to her death. This decision becomes even more crazy as Toby's presence in the remaining episodes of the season is limited to two episodes, leading to the absence of any emotionally resonant impact from Yvonne's death.
Maya, Shauna, and Sara Harvey, all identified as LGBT+ characters, meet tragic ends in the series, and a discernible pattern emerges in which these characters are often cast as villains. Shauna and Sara, in particular, are not merely portrayed as bad characters but are outright villainized, leading to their demise without attempts to rectify or develop their storylines. Notably, the show does not make efforts to address or correct the mistakes made with these characters; they are simply written out through death. In contrast, Jenna, although serving as a villain, is afforded more depth with understandable motives. However, it is worth noting that no male character in the series is defined solely by their negative actions in the same way that these female characters are.
Charlotte DiLaurentis, the only transgender character in the series, is presented as the most vicious 'A,' with her reveal directly tied to her gender identity. The decision to introduce Charlotte's transgender identity concurrently with revelations about her willingness to date her brother adds an extra layer of discomfort to the narrative. There is a level of implied deceptiveness that leaves an uncomfortable impression about the reveal entirely.
The idea behind the origin story seems to suggest that Charlotte's upbringing contributed to her actions, but the execution raises concerns about equating transgender identity with mental illness. Suggestions from the show's creator, Marlene King, that Charlotte's troubles are more a consequence of her tumultuous family than her transgender identity attempt to clarify the narrative but underscore the need for such clarification8. Charlotte's subsequent plan to return to being 'A' after Alison dedicates five years to helping her get better adds an additional layer of disappointment and undercuts that idea.
My appreciation for Pretty Little Liars remains steadfast as a dedicated fan, it's crucial to acknowledge the series' imperfections. As it navigates the intricate web of mysteries, the initial allure fades, and the show encounters challenges in maintaining the essential elements that make a mystery truly captivating. Nevertheless, it's through this critical lens that we gain a deeper understanding of the evolution of Pretty Little Liars and the broader dynamics shaping narrative craft in television, highlighting the complexities faced by long-running teen dramas.
Love analyzing your favorite shows? Subscribe now for an exclusive look at TV series critiques and discussions. Explore the evolution of captivating mysteries, dissect the elements that make them compelling, and join fellow fans in unraveling the secrets of your beloved shows. Don't miss out on the in-depth analysis – subscribe today and dive deeper into the world of television narratives!"
Courtney as Alison
This isn’t universal, but in a 160 episode show, having a character start and end in the same place isn’t great.
And very bad acting!
Money