Back in 2023, I had the pleasure of interviewing Lisa McGee on the BAFTA red carpet the night she won for Derry Girls season 3. It was one of the highlights of my career to date, but after watching her character Saoirse (Roisin Gallagher) flee for her life from the awards in new Netflix show How to Get to Heaven from Belfast, I'm starting to wonder if McGee felt the same way.
The Derry Girls creator was always going to have all eyes on her when it came to her follow-up show, and I'm pleased to report it's an absolute belter. This time around, McGee is blending eerie tragedy and crime-style mystery into her signature blend of Irish wit and charm, and together, it goes down like a spoonful of sugar.
At its core, best friends – screenwriter Saoirse, mum Robyn (Sinéad Keenan) and reclusive mummy's girl Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne) – are told that an estranged friend from their school days has died after falling down the stairs. When they get to the wake and discover Greta (Natasha O'Keeffe) might not be dead after all, they open a can of worms bigger than they could ever have imagined.
When I say you are going to race through these eight episodes because they're so addictive, I mean you won't even move to get another drink. After a doozy of an opening episode, I almost resented the plans I had that meant I had to leave my TV screen unwatched. That's the power of McGee, people... it's almost witchcraft.
The critical eye in me has to really pick this apart... yes, it could have been easily condensed into six episodes and I'm not too sure how much I love one of the most significant sub-plots. But for the most part, I'm breathing a sigh of relief that great Irish telly is back once again (and this is possibly the most Irish show I've ever seen).
How to Get to Heaven from Belfast isn't Derry Girls, but it won't let you forget where Lisa McGee started
Think about Bad Sisters, Big Little Lies and Orphan Black all getting together and having a little Irish TV baby, and you've got How to Get to Heaven from Belfast. McGee's latest work has much darker undertones than we're used to, touching on everything from murder and the occult to witness protection and false arrests. Even the intro titles are creepy enough to send a shiver running down your spine.
While these are topics you'd rarely joke about, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is teeming with natural laugh-out-loud moments. Our lead trio are just as hilarious as they are charismatic, making them the ideal characters to deliver McGee's exceptional script with the timing and wit it needs.
This is where it's most similar to Derry Girls – but if anything, the new Netflix show is almost an ode to it, ramming in Easter eggs wherever you look. Everything from subtle dialogue references to the cast mural that now sits in the center of Derry is there, and that's before you get to cast appearances from the likes of Saoirse Monica-Jackson, Art Campion and Father Ted legend Ardal O'Hanlon.
The comedy is strong enough to stand on its own, but I loved reminiscing on some of my favorite Derry Girls scenes as How to Get to Heaven from Belfast went along. Again, it's something that shouldn't work but does, and it's a testament to McGee's craft that she's managed to pull off intertwining the two shows.
As McGee said the night I interviewed her, "I'm Irish, so I can talk quickly." It's this snappy and dynamic pace of storytelling that makes any of her work feel so electric, meaning we can power through the scenes that don't quite work and not feel hard done by. It's such a creative leap that it was almost a given that there would be imperfections, but like all good things, the pros far outweigh the cons.
The soundtrack is any 2000s kid's dream – and almost a character in its own right
It took watching How to Get to Heaven from Belfast for me to realize that we've scarcely had any dramas centering on 2000s school culture. The 80s and 90s have been done to death, with the 70s not too far behind. Even the 2010s to now are well represented thanks to shows like Euphoria.
But for some reason, the 2000s has been a blind spot... until now. Much of Saoirse, Dara, Robyn and Greta's backstory takes place during their high school days in 2003, and boy has production paid attention to the all-important details. Classic McGee motifs like diary writing and shifting boys at house parties are all present and correct, but the day-to-day culture of the early naughties almost feels refreshing.
This best comes to life in the (frankly, exquisite) soundtrack that I hope somebody at Netflix eventually turns into a Spotify playlist. We've got Liberty X, 'The Ketchup Song', and copious plays of 'Sound of the Underground' by Girls Aloud in multiple episodes (though their featured discography is not limited to this).
In peak humor, we've also got B*Witched's 'C'est La Vie', which had me both roaring and subconsciously Irish dancing within seconds. How lucky are we to have a talented creator who doesn't take themselves or their work too seriously? Where else can we have a payoff that resembles Popstars: The Rivals?
I will go as far as to say that How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is my best TV show of 2026 so far. It's not perfect, but the smorgasbord of cultural and craft references we're getting are a feast for the eyes and ears, and I'm thrilled McGee's talents will be appreciated on a global streaming service. Let's keep funding her work until the money runs out, please.
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