Old School. Biblically Independent.
By Chris Revelle | TV | February 18, 2026
In Lisa McGee’s dark comedy thriller, How To Get To Heaven From Belfast, we find three old friends each dealing with their own elder Millennial malaise. Saoirse (Roisin Gallagher) writes a popular murder mystery show and nearly loses her mind when the star actor demands the show nix the murder. Robyn (Sinéad Keenan) is a long-suffering mother who desperately needs a break from keeping the peace between her three children. Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne) lives with and cares for her mother, who couldn’t be more eager to get rid of her. Then an email comes from a mysterious “Aunt Gaye,” informing them of their estranged friend Greta’s (Natasha O’Keefe) sudden death, giving the date and address for the wake in the village of Knockdara.
Streaming in its entirety on Netflix, How To Get To Heaven From Belfast has a lot of fun with its mystery thriller games. Greta’s mother Margo (Michelle Fairley) is cold and imperious like an evil queen who shares knowing looks with Owen (Emmett J. Scanlon), the unblinking, robotic widower allegedly grieving Greta’s death. Greta’s daughter Maria (Matilda Freeman) speaks in flat ghostly tones, with huge eyes staring out from under a vibrant knit hat. Policeman and part-time mechanic Liam (Darragh Hand) is easily the cutest face in town, but could have some connection to the mysterious death. There’re also tantalizing hints of a frightening secret Robyn, Dara, Saoirse, and Greta shared, one that involves a knot-like tattoo and a burning house.
There’s a queasy, off-kilter edge to the series that makes everything feel slightly unreal, like an odd dream. The camera buzzes, reels, and swoons like it’s experiencing a fever dream, and it’s not just the hangover Dara, Robyn, and Saoirse are nursing. This dizzy feeling keeps viewers off balance and sets the stage for some of the more outlandish twists and turns that come. The series keeps a lot of big splashy elements going all at once. and though it occasionally threatens to drop something, it keeps just enough control over the chaos.
The quick, acerbic dialogue is the humming engine of the show. Keenan, O’Keefe, and Dunne are verbal acrobats who snarl, quip, and scoff like artists of sarcasm. Robyn needs a vacation from her family, Saoirse is bored by her fiancé, and Dara seems paralyzed by loneliness. When they swear to have an early night at the inn, the editing wickedly smash-cuts to the trio slamming down shots and moving out onto the dance floor. As they dance, they imagine their younger selves grooving along with them. This strain of melancholy is threaded between the dark laughs as the women reflect on their pasts. They carry a lot of guilt about how estranged they became with Greta, and in embittered Millennial fashion, they process it with plenty of tart irony.
The twists and left turns are too fun to spoil here, but viewers may recognize some Lisa McGee favorites returning. Derry Girls stars Art Campion and Saoirse-Monica Jackson both pop up to add to the chaos. Keenan and Campion’s London Irish co-star Kerr Logan stops by, too.
Overall, How To Get To Heaven From Belfast is a gimlet-eyed ride through a messy murder mystery thriller that roots its rueful humor in recognizable everyday miseries, like growing older. The humor feeds on the darkness and keeps the proceedings from feeling too heavy or too mean. Even at 45+ minutes per episode, How To Get To Heaven From Belfast is a binge-able delight.
