This article contains spoilers for Sterling Point.
In Sterling Point‘s penultimate hour, half-sisters Annie (Ella Rubin) and Ramona (Amelie Hoeferle) gush over how, after quite the slow-burning courtship, Annie finally made out with her crush. Their camaraderie in this pivotal moment—giddily stumbling over each other’s words, Annie braiding Ramona’s hair before bedtime, and Ramona gently encouraging her—is so naturally sororal that you almost forget they’ve spent most of their lives unaware of each other. Having surprisingly inherited a small Canadian island from her estranged grandad, Annie took a break from her New York City life to learn more about the island’s former keeper and her late adoptive mother, only to discover secret sibling Ramona, who knew nothing of Annie or Annie’s twin brother, Connor (Keen Ruffalo).
In just a few episodes—the span of a few weeks within the series’ timeline—the writing and performances incisively flesh out Annie and Ramona’s newfound sisterly bond; this relationship is the show’s beating heart. An inherently tender yet melodramatic series harkening back to the likes of Dawson’s Creek, Gilmore Girls, and My So-Called Life (and it’s not just because of a scenic, undisturbed small town setting), Sterling Point presents teen malaise and the challenges of growing up in a way that’s cozy, witty, and frequently sexy without being titillating or, whew, exploitative. Yet for all the ways Sterling Point resembles those ’90s shows and conjures fond memories of them, it skillfully straddles the line between nostalgia and modernity. To wit, the kids hardly use their phones—there’s no cell reception on this island (how old-school!)—so there’s a refreshing emphasis on healthy communication, with the writers grasping how kids today actually converse rather than clumsily stringing Gen Z slang together.
It’s all the more impressive considering that they aren’t working from anyone else’s road map. Unlike an increasing number of Prime Video series, Sterling Point isn’t based on any book, movie, webseries, or podcast that’s already proven its appeal to a devoted and/or overly attached fanbase. An original television concept—what’ll they think of next? Sterling Point‘s self-aware 17-year-olds actually act their age and speak like people who exist in a tangible world—and present an antidote to the annoying teens on other shows. It doesn’t have to adhere to expectations of hardcore fans like Prime Video’s adaptations of Off Campus and Every Year After. Everything that’s exciting and robust about Sterling Point is because it’s telling a story designed specifically for TV, and paces itself to match the medium. If only it could’ve gotten a proper 22-episode-long season, too.
The show still adheres to the tried-and-true conventions of its genre. Multiple love interests? Check. Impromptu parties, illicit substances, and explosive confrontations? Check. A quirky but lovable friend group? Check. Family secrets? Triple check. These motifs may feel familiar, but Sterling Point gives them a fresh and heartfelt spin. Take Annie’s romantic endeavors. There’s no dragging out the back-and-forth between her feelings for local boy Ellis (Jacob Whiteduck-Lavoie) and city acquaintance Rory (Daniel Quinn-Toye). Sterling Point avoids ’shipping wars by making Ellis and Rory act with emotional maturity over typical impulsivity. The mystery of Ramona’s dad is less about his identity and more about how his absence shapes her POV on life—until Annie crashes into her life, Ramona has made peace with being alone, now that the granddad she cared for has died. And yet, the two sisters find new meaning to their lives because of this Switched At Birth–esque twist that allows for meaningful character development over the course of the first season: Type-A Annie learns how to slow down at the lake; Ramona starts to overcome her abandonment issues.
It helps that series co-creator Megan Park is carrying over and expanding upon themes she’s explored in her film work here. Like the protagonists of The Fallout and My Old Ass, Sterling Point’s newly united-for-the-first-time sisters struggle with feeling like they don’t belong anywhere, are on journeys of self-discovery in the midst of unexpected tragedy, and genuinely fear repeating old mistakes (or worse, repeating their parents’ mistakes).
Annie’s arrival on Sterling Point upends the day-to-day of the sisters’ family members, love interests, and neighbors, too. Suffice it to say, there’s plenty of theatrics mined out of the conundrums she and Ramona face: How different would their lives have been if they grew up together? What if their mom, who passed away when they were too young, had survived and raised them? And should they now sell this pretty piece of land they own, or should they try to support the locals? The scope of these arcs is bigger than something as enjoyably simple as Belly choosing between The Jeremiah or Conrad on The Summer I Turned Pretty. It’s the kind of ongoing narrative tailor made for TV, a medium that provides the leisure and space to alternate between perspectives, manage multiple characters at varying stages of their story, and change things up on the fly. Sterling Point goes beyond relationship troubles while charting Annie and Ramona’s coming-of-age, although those elements are still delightful to watch; Ramona goes on a roller-coaster of her own when she falls hard for her BFF, Oona (Bo Bragasan in a star-making performance ahead of her upcoming turn as Princess Zelda).
If the series can be said to have any source material, it’s Park’s life. Like Ramona, she grew up in a small town in Canada and is colorblind; she’s known a lot of people who, like Annie and Connor, were adopted. It’s akin to how Kevin Williamson was inspired by his own North Carolina upbringing to create Dawson’s Creek, or how the origins of My So-Called Life stemmed from creator Winnie Holzman and executive producer Marshall Herskovitz’s shared memories of feeling like TV’s depiction of adolescence “in no way resembled” their own.
No wonder it offers escapism grounded in reality. Park’s pragmatic storytelling blends with co-creators Stephanie Savage and Josh Schwartz’s knack for soapy, glossy-looking dramas like The O.C. and Gossip Girl. So instead of being a checklist of YA clichés we’ve seen (or read) before, Sterling Point‘s originality gives it a refreshing identity that makes it a welcome addition to TV’s current YA lineup of adaptations and IP-driven stories.
Saloni Gajjar is The A.V. Club‘s TV critic.
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