‘Every Year After’ (2026) Prime Video Series Review - Too Many Breakups, Too Little Growth

There were moments when I thought that Every Year After, based on Carley Fortune's novel Every Summer After, would break free from its narrow confines of being an inert, been-there-done-that romance and turn into a tale of liberation, where the women end up realizing that they were hung up on and chasing undeserving, irritating men—or that they actually don't need men. Just see how Charlie (Michael Bradway), albeit unintentionally, breaks Delilah's (Abigail Cowen) heart at a bonfire party and how Sam (Matt Cornett), one of the most annoying boys I have ever seen in a romance story, repeatedly breaks up and reconciles with Percy (Sadie Soverall). At first, Sam is too shy to admit his feelings. Later, when he does enter a relationship with Percy, he occasionally starts coming up with reasons for temporary separations, emphasizing that he wants to focus on his career and doesn't want to jeopardize their friendship. I think his reason is solid. Without a job, how will he take care of himself and his family and have a good life with the woman he wants to marry?

I also didn't mind the fact that a shy, young Sam, too confused by his feelings, wasn't able to express himself in front of a young Percy and that he inadvertently hurt her a few times, as when he firmly states, "It's Percy," in a tone that suggests he doesn't see her as his girlfriend when Charlie teases him (he realizes his mistake almost immediately, but he's so diffident that he doesn't clarify what he really means). Sam also does something terrible and cowardly through the Internet (no spoilers), which further proves how flawed he is. But at the same time, all his actions are marked by consistency. He is not Mr. Perfect, and frankly, who really is? My problem was less with Sam's "I like you now, I don't like you now" approach to his relationship with Percy and more with what it actually makes the series look like. The answer: thoroughly lazy. Sam's reasons for distancing himself from Percy might be valid, but the show deploys them as an excuse to stretch a thin story. After the third or fourth breakup, I started praying that they would never reunite.

If you, as a viewer, find yourself miffed, that's because Sam and Percy don't seem to learn anything from the ups and downs of their romantic partnership. The mistakes are repeated; the same logic is recycled whenever the series wants to create a rift. (A door in Percy's apartment never stays closed, which I am afraid is some sort of metaphor screaming that she has not properly closed the door on her past or something.) Unsurprisingly, then, Every Year After becomes monotonous after a while. I was tired of the reasons Sam gave and the steps he took every time he wanted some space. They have a rinse-and-repeat quality to them. Oh, how I wish Percy had just put her foot down and said, "Enough is enough. I don't want to be with Sam." However, Every Year After is a romance, so that means the girls and the boys must pine for each other and must absolutely miss each other's company. It doesn't matter if you are divorced or even dare to leave the man you don't find right for your marriage. Every Year After is not able to imagine a happy, single woman—a woman who can remain in bliss in her own company or with her friends while, at the same time, excelling in her professional field. No, they all must immediately be paired up with a boy or be left crushing on one whom they might have initially ignored as a potential partner.

The thing about Every Year After is that, for much of its runtime, it displays all the signs of becoming the kind of show that favors smart characters (see how Delilah points out the real meaning behind Sam's "It's Percy" comment), that bestows women with the intelligence to see through the toxicity of a typical romantic novel or movie guy—the one who handsomely broods and shoots himself in the foot instead of confessing or accepting what's going on in his mind. It's a pity it takes a U-turn on this to become yet another hackneyed streaming-service offering. Percy and Sam bond over their love of horror movies, and Percy's favorite book and author are Frankenstein and Mary Shelley. These interests, however, are pasted onto the screen superficially. There are no nerdy discussions between Percy and Sam about books or movies. At best, we get a disposable scene like the one where Percy, while watching The Blair Witch Project, gets so scared that she comes to Sam's home in the middle of the night, and they both refer to it as the scariest movie ever made, sounding less like movie geeks than people parroting tags and descriptions they've read elsewhere. Also absent is any discussion of how Percy, as a writer, has been influenced by the books she has read.

It's almost bizarre that Every Year After doesn't provide much room for the young characters' relationships with their parents, especially the one between Sue (Elisha Cuthbert), Sam's mother, and Percy. It's crucial because of one significant twist, which, alas, is rendered insignificant because it is flattened into just another excuse to create conflict between Sam and Percy. Looking back at the show, I think nearly all the conversations mainly involved Sam and Percy. It's suffocating. No wonder Every Year After feels so tedious, so bland, so dim. It has only one tone, and it reeks of heavy sentimentality. The intention might have been to melt viewers' hearts, but the series is so lackluster—so lacking in even sexual energy—that it turns your heart to stone. Every Year After is downright pallid.

Final Score - [4/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times
Note: All 8 episodes are screened for this review.
Premiere Date: June 10, 2026, on Prime Video