A new housemaid becomes involved with a family’s secrets, sexiness, and scandal in Paul Feig’s slyly satirical The Housemaid, based on the novel by Frieda McFadden.
In my review for the tepid remake of The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, I wrote about my love of 90s psycho-sexual thrillers; self-aware, hefty slices of cheese playing to knowing, game adult audiences. Films that leaned into the melodrama (whether purpsofully or accidentally, no matter, still fun), such as Color of Night, Sleeping with the Enemy, Body of Evidence, Hush, or even Basic Instinct, slid out of theatres over time, nestling into a more comfortable existence to become the stereotypical Lifetime movie. In said review, I wrote of the lost subgenre: “the upcoming Housemaid seems to fit.” Oooh boy, does it. The Housemaid, directed by Paul Feig and adapted by Rebecca Sonneshine from the 2022 novel by Frieda McFadden (the first in a trilogy), has all the aware energy of the sort, delving into the inane and insane that the subgenre has to offer. The book series has been described as “airport or beach reading.” The sort of pulpy paperback you read in light times, leaning into the entertainment value of the popcorn of it all. The Housemaid is just that. It’s a rip-roaring crowdpleaser of pure enjoyment, mostly as there are a few stumbles along the way to dampen the effect. But on the whole, Feig succeeds in reviving a dormant genre.
Sydney Sweeney plays Millie, a down-on-her-luck woman, hired to be the live-in housemaid (TITLE!) to Amanda Seyfried’s Nina, her charming, handsome husband Andrew, and their cold and spoiled daughter. As she settles in, we are giving so many delicious threads of where it will go. Who’s rocking and who is the cradle? Milile states straight up she’s lying. In a nice touch, after we see her put on glasses after not needing them, she explains to us in voiceover that they’re fake. A little thing, but it’s Sonneshine and Feig telling the audience, “We know what you’re going to be thinking, so let’s have fun.” We know we’re going to be led along, on purpose, in various ways. Millie’s been in prison, and the resume is a lie. Does Nina know? Does the husband? Is he as sexily clueless as he seems? What’s with the ever-present, ruggledly handsome gardener with his cryptic messages and warnings? There’s obviously some sort of game afoot, but who is playing whom? Everyone? It’s not long before things are awry. The pristine house is a squalor, Nina’s mood changes from day to day, lies, switches, and general chaos. What’s the game? What’s the truth? It’s fun to try to solve it; along with the directly obvious set-ups and pay-offs, hanging like Swords of Damocles. Because we know, and you know, and they know, and Feig knows no one is on the level. Secrets, secrets are no fun… unless we’re looking at the sort of movie. It’s popcorn, fun popcorn, leaning into the delirious insanity and inanity. 
Fieg lends a simmering satire to the affair; here meaning the story itself… or is there more?. The melodrama is ramped up a little, not too much. I’m taking this as a satire, with Fieg’s background in working with comedy, especially character-based comedies that work around tropes and power dynamic stories of the haves and have-nots (it even permeates Bridesmaids, but more directly in A Simple Favor and here). From Freaks and Geeks, Ghostbusters: Answer the Call, Spy and especially A Simple Favor (of which straddles this sort of thing), he is keenly aware of conventions and expectations. But he does it in a just-aware-enough manner, never condescendingly looking at the subject matter. It’s the best type of satire- one that works perfectly within its genre. I can absolutely see it being Poe’s Lawed. Btw, Poe’s Law essentially states that without a clear statement of intent, satire or parody may be taken as sincere. By golly, does Housemaid straddle the line. If taken sincerely, all the power. I love the idea that The Housemaid can be watched semi-ironically or fully invested in the melodrama, and both takes are equally valid.
For the first half, it’s a joy watching all the players move around the board. Feig, Sonnenshine, and McFadden lead the audience down various paths with hints, clues, and fun. Until it doesn’t. For all the fun of the first hour, when the cards fall, the “twist” is revealed (I was pretty much there, but wasn’t sure how one fold was going to go), there are major stumbles in the second act. The energy dissipates, the spark goes. The film stops cold with the sly humor vanishing due to some direct abuse-based story points (keeping vague here, of course) and an endless, over-explaining, incredibly expositional voiceover. But it’s tough to handle more direct abuse in that way; like the notorious Showgirls is a wholly entertaining, hilarious mess, until an unnecessary rape scene takes the air out of the room. The Housemaid doesn’t quite go that far, but some of what the middle covers just couldn’t be taken with a smile; so I get it. But it’s a tonal whiplash. It drags it down for far too long, after an hour of darkly humorous, low-key satirical, all in; it’s a shift that doesn’t work, jarring and taking out of the movie, betraying the length (feeling a little stretched at 131 minutes).
However, have no fear, for once the twist’s implications and backstories are out of the way, Feig gets right back on the original path for a bloody, violent, and crowd-pleasing finale. The Housemaid is just that: a big, crowd-pleasing movie. Even with the second act stumbles, the audience hooted and cheered, reacted with the right amount of Oohs and laughs (sometimes at the same time, indicating how various members were reading the film). When the payoffs happen, it’s fun and roaring and becomes aware of the cheese again.
As Millie, Sydney Sweeney is fine; perhaps a bit bland (no gang-buster Immaculate performance here) and that little squint she does before so many lines is frustrating, but this is Amanda Seyfried’s movie. She understands the assignment. Unhinged and wild, coming incredibly close to the too-over-the-top line but never quite crossing it into pure parody. She’s at one hundred the whole film, and I loved it. She screams, she crashes, she barks, she drools, she howls. She simmers down to a cool terror. As part of the character, one never knows how the next scene will go, or even the next line, as she cycles through every possible reading at any point. It’s delicious and fantastic to chew on, along with the scenery. The third part of the triangle is Brandon Sklenar, seen earlier this year as the charming date in Drop. He’s a bit of a “generic sexy dude” and works when he’s more mysterious, as the film progresses, and he has more to work with, not so much. He kinda runs at the same gear all film, to his detriment. She’s not in much of the film, but I loved Elizabeth Perkins and cool menace as his mother.
The Housemaid will play well with the crowds this holiday season. I’m curious how many of our aunts and their friend groups will choose this over “that cute Neil Diamond movie” (review for that next week). That’s not a dig, just the audience. Paul Feig’s adaptation of the bestselling novel is a fun one, harkening back to the thrillers of 30 years ago. I gotta love a movie that wears its heart on its sleeve, giving the audience just what it wants with game performers and crew.