Hey, remember all those crazy psycho stalker movies that arose in the wake of Fatal Attraction; those hyper paranoid thrillers that suggested that bringing anyone into your social circle or life, be it a new nanny or a flatmate, would spell disaster as you’d inevitably end up bringing an unhinged lunatic into your world? Well, Paul Feig certainly does and after moving on from comedies predominantly featuring Melissa McCarthy with the stylish drama of the Simple Favour movies, he’s going full nutjob in the twist filled The Housemaid.
Part exaggerated homage to titles such as The Hand That Rocks The Cradle or Single White Female; part stand alone entry that eagerly looks to change the established rules, can Feig rewrite the book on obsessive weirdos finding gainful employment, or will he find his CV refused at the door?
Millie Calloway is desperate to find herself gainful employment in order to keep her parole officer sated and after nights of sleeping in her car, her fortunes seem to improve when she aces an interview with Nina Winchester to be the housemaid for her, her dashing husband, Andrew, and her daughter, Cecelia. However, while the interview starts things off incredibly positive and Nina insists Millie starts right away, soon the live-in position starts to manifest a few red flags that become increasingly difficult to ignore.
For a start, the happy and excitable Nina Millie met during the interview seems to have been replaced by a woman prone to fits of anger, paranoid rants and a vast amount of blame throwing that all seems to be focused entirely on her new hire. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad if Millie is actually guilty of half of the shit she’s accused of, but the gaslighting soon reaches maximum velocity as Nina’s mood changes by the hour. However, after spending some time hoovering up the local gossip, some alarming facts about Nina come to light.
Not only has the woman spent some time in psychiatric care after apparently trying to drown her child years earlier, but her behavior is becoming ever more erratic and can only seemingly be stopped by her husband stepping in. But what of Andrew? How does he feel about his wife who seems to be choosing to abuse the help at the drop of a hat?
After taking all of the abuse from Mrs. Winchester, Mr. Winchester seems like a welcome balm, but as Millie and the rich, gorgeous husband of her employer get closer and closer, surely alarm bells start to ring. After all, if Millie allows this to go too far and something we’re to happen with Andrew, how on earth would a woman with obvious and potentially violent mental issues react?
Be prepared. Nothing and nobody is actually who they seem…
The Housemaid ends up being a film of two halves and how much you enjoy it depends on how much work you’re willing to put in on the first 90 minutes before a truly insane climax kicks in to take the wheel. Obviously, to protect your enjoyment, I’m not going to let any details of said twist slip, but believe you me, it ends up being worth the wait – mostly. If there’s an issue with The Housemaid, it’s that Feig seems to be making a film that’s targeted at an entire generation that didn’t grow up with the glut of psycho thrillers that were literally everywhere during the late 80s and early 90s. There’s nothing wrong with the setup as it generates all the toe-curling frustration and “oh shit” moments that the build up of a film like this needs, but the problem is that it’s far too drawn out and after a while, the tension starts to wane as things start to get noticably repetitive. Feig may want matters to build organically, but it results in the film ending up at a weirdly ungainly length for a standard psycho thriller which plays a lot of the same notes repeatedly to get its point across. As a result, the film soon starts to feel like a Tubi script with a Mubi budget and you openly start to wonder where the Hell this film is going as Millie makes ever more ridiculous decisions that results in something of a steamy romance.
However, while Feig finally springs his trap a bit too late, it’s significantly crazed enough that not only does it succeed in flipping the script, but the remaining movie moves like greased lightning as it takes massively bizarre turns to reach its bloody finale. If the middle section of the flick could have mustered up a bit more of a snappier pace, then we’d have an absolute cracker on our hands, but as it stands, The Housemaid still wins you over thanks to those jawdropping reveals. Helping to get you there is a clutch of savvy performances that guide us through the standard psycho stuff in order to get to the really freaky stuff.
Leading the pack is Amanda Seyfried, who employs those sizable peepers of hers to magnificent effect when portraying the “crazy” wife by having gargantuan meltdowns at the drop of a hat and crashing out at imagined slights and elsewhere, Brandon Sklenar plays the unfeasibly hunky, too-good-to-be-true hubby who’ll no doubt draw sighs from the female contingent. Slightly less effective is Sydney Sweeney’s heroine, who despite her starring role and a hefty backstory, doesn’t really have much more to do than look vunerable and confused with a visible cleavage and wide eyes. But once that twist locks in and all the masks drops, the main players are required to add startling new wrinkles to their characters that – if I’m being honest – initially seem more at home nestled next to something like Gone Girl, rather than the type of trashy, lunchtime thriller that Feig seems to be taking the piss out of. In fact, even Sweeney seems more comfortable once the shocks start to gain traction and it ends up being the perfect example of a three-star set-up being followed by a four-star payoff.
Whether Feig can manage to bring back the psychological thriller with his tea spilling opus remains unclear, but considering that this year also gave us a remake of The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, there are admittedly signs that it could be making a comeback. If they do, maybe they could learn a fair few things from The Housemaid and ditch the 2+ hour runtime, but keep that barnburning finale that sees more things rapidly stood on its head than an acrobats convention.
Come for the cast, stay for the hardcore final act, Paul Feig manages to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But while it’ll take some patience getting there, a gloriously unhinged Seyfried help The Housemaid belatedly clean up.
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