How To Get To Heaven From Belfast takes you on an entertaining, albeit bumpy, ride

This buddy dramedy from Derry Girls' Lisa McGee has a few too many detours.

By Saloni Gajjar | February 12, 2026 | 1:00pm

Photo: Christopher Barr/Netflix

TV Reviews How To Get To Heaven From Belfast

How To Get To Heaven From Belfast takes you on an entertaining, albeit bumpy, ride

Lisa McGee’s fascination with how people’s upbringings shape their identities defined her previous hit Derry Girls. Centered on a group of Catholic-school students during the Troubles in the ’90s, it explored their coming-of-age stories amid political conflicts and strict religious norms, with an emphasis on the characters’ joyous, unflappable bond. This element of kinship during a tragedy remains a thematic through-line in her new Netflix series, even if it doesn’t quite reach Derry Girls‘ comic heights, narrative confidence, or sense of place. Still, How To Get To Heaven From Belfast remains immensely watchable because of McGee’s clear grasp on the long-lasting impact of tight-knit female friendships, particularly those formed during adolescence.

The protagonists here aren’t teens anymore. But a major event from that time still looms over them like a dark cloud well into their mid-thirties. They reunite in the premiere to grieve over their estranged fourth pal, who died recently under dubious circumstances. Before they realize it, Saoirse (Roisin Gallagher), Robyn (Sinéad Keenan), and Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne) are pulled back into the past versions of themselves that they’ve tried to move on from. The news of Greta’s (Natasha O’Keeffe) sudden passing shakes up their psyches, along with the lives they’ve built, thrusting them into a dangerous conspiracy they’re unequipped to solve. But they can’t afford to stay away from it either. As they turn into amateur sleuths, Belfast unevenly juggles being both a poignant dramedy and a sinister whodunit. It sets up an intriguing suspense that, unfortunately, gets too labyrinthine as the eight hour-long episodes unfold. But the central trio remains consistently amusing and maintains the show’s momentum when the case does not.

The most well-developed character here is Saoirse, the writer of an acclaimed British procedural and the show’s primary POV. She also feels like a stand-in for McGee, considering she often expresses the series’ themes out loud. (“I just keep thinking about the paths we take in life, and the shifts they cause in our direction of travel, because those shifts happen so subtly, gradually,” she remarks.) Facing a professional crisis and a relationship dilemma, Saoirse seeks escape in the form of figuring out what happened to Greta, whom she was closest to when they were all 18. Robyn sticks around to help and to get a much-deserved break from her needy family, while Dara—who is the least fleshed-out of the lot and a spiritual sister to Derry Girls‘ eccentric Orla—feels burdened with guilt about a secret they’ve all kept hidden for two decades. So did their former friend truly suffer from a fatal fall, or did her creepy police-officer husband (played by Emmett J. Scanlan) murder her? Is Greta even dead, and if she’s not, where is she and whose wake did they attend while being hilariously hungover?

The search for answers forces the women to finally reflect on the choices that led them here and how their increasingly dire circumstances could have been avoided had they stayed in contact with Greta. Miserable as they may be, Saoirse, Robyn, and Dara end up as formidable, albeit chaotic, investigators. In the present day, they traipse around the fictional village of Knockdara (also the setting of McGee’s 2020 thriller series The Deceived) and other parts of Northern Ireland to try and uncover the truth of a very strange crime, while flashbacks drip-feed information about a horrifying incident that turned this inseparable quartet into a trio. Early installments promise a jarring tale that potentially includes a secret society, psychological experiments, kidnappings, corrupt officials, probable assassins, and covert personas. But these puzzle pieces layer up haphazardly instead of fitting together with ease, resulting in scattered detours that take time away from the core group’s far more interesting interpersonal dynamics.

Despite the unrealistic life-or-death stakes, the show keeps a lighthearted tone with dry Irish humor. (Think sarcastic quips, ludicrous situations, and the fact that the trio’s love language is to freely insult each other as much as possible.) Gallagher, Keenan, and Dunne go all in, nailing the comedic and serious aspects of their characters’ well-established repartee. And Keenan—thanks to a remarkably funny resting bitch face and biting dialogue delivery—turns into the real MVP. The show also features guest stars like Michelle Fairley, Tom Basden, Say Nothing‘s Josh Finan, and Derry Girls‘ Saoirse Monica-Jackson in a striking role that’s a far cry from Erin Quinn. These delightful performances, McGee’s insightful writing, Michael Lennox’s captivating direction, and some lovely scenery make How To Get To Heaven From Belfast, overall, great craic.

Saloni Gajjar is The A.V. Club‘s TV critic. How To Get To Heaven From Belfast premieres February 12 on Netflix.

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