The audience by and large has been captivated with the layered storytelling and morally complex characters of Netflix's Sirens, alongside its visual metaphors. At first glance, the show's premise appears to be centered around women fantastically characterized as sirens by boyfriends, relatives, and society’s judgment.
However, as power and villainy is revealed, so does the underlying truth. Within five episodes, the miniseries shatters every assumption a viewer might make, until only one remains: The true puppeteer –- the one guised within the narrative -– was Peter.
Portrayed with charming delight by Kevin Bacon, Peter Kell makes his first appearance in Sirens as a patriarch that seems to be simply exhausted and weary, a bit complex, to say the least.
Nevertheless, behind the smile exists a man who knows how to bend reality to his advantage. There is no need to shout or even make overt threats. Rather, he sows confusion, plays the victim, and manipulates those around him. While the women in the series suffer through blame, shame, and intense emotional turmoil, Peter enjoys the freedom of plausible deniability.
The brilliance of Sirens lies in how long it takes someone to appreciate this. Everything dreamy about the show, its parallels to Greek myths, and emotional depth, work to aid in this gradual recognition. It is not a twist, it is a reflection set before the onlooker. Once you catch it, the meticulous way in which Peter constructed the entire emotional architecture of the show is laid bare.
The master of the mask: Peter’s quiet manipulations

Peter is not your typical TV villain. He lacks grand monologues and obvious treachery. Rather, he chooses more a delicate approach. He positions himself as the victim, the father who wishes to bond with his kids, the husband who is saving a broken marriage.
This shifts the focus from his behavior toward his claim. He drives a wedge between Simone and the rest, and watches the aftermath shatter bonds. While steering clear of confrontation, he allows tension to brew amongst the women and watches them annihilate each other while preserving his reputation.
Consider how much more sinister this is when Peter occupies so much space in the story without appearing over-the-top menacing. His very existence has power. The women so frequently respond to Peter's influence — his voice, his decisions, his silences. Still, by the end of the series, it is evident none of their stories transpire the way they do without his subtle, quiet handiwork guiding them. As the quote from the show hauntingly puts it,
“We all work for Peter."
Subverting the myth: Sirens were never the monsters

Femme Fatales is what people presumed to see, based on the show’s creative and dark title. Sirens takes an abrupt turn, however. While getting demonized at various points by their spouses, relatives, and even themselves, Michaela, Simone, and Devon each serve vilification. However, what they ultimately are is women attempting to escape systems of control without discerning the source of that control.
Peter, in this case, shifts to fill the role of Hades. In Episode 4, with the telling title Persephone, the show makes a distinction between myth and metaphor. The island transforms into the Underworld and Peter becomes the king.
It isn’t seduction that traps Simone. She remains voluntarily, but only because the alternative is worse. The tragic element of Sirens isn’t that there are monsters. It is that power stealthily lurks behind still waters and sweet faces. In the end, the show does not have to state that Peter won. We sense it. The women leave broken, in some cases, irrevocably. And Peter? Calmly victorious.