The Housemaid is the latest film from writer/director Paul Feig. Once the heavy hitter for films like this was massive hits like Bridesmaids, The Heat and Spy, everything came undone when Feig’s 2016 all-female version of Ghostbusters caused a mass of online backlash from its very toxic male fanbase. While the film performed well and has a lot of memorable moments, it was Feig who ultimately never seemed to bounce back when it came to directing films. Fortunately, with The Housemaid, it would seem the magic has returned. Feig delivers a sharply written and directed film that feels true to form.
Based on Freida McFadden’s hugely successful 2022 novel, The Housemaid arrives primed to be a classic domestic thriller, the story is built on secrets, simmering tension, and wealthy households hiding deeply unsettling truths. What it becomes instead is something far glossier and knowingly unhinged, with director Paul Feig ensuring the film never completely loses control, even when the story threatens to spiral.
Sydney Sweeney stars as Millie, a young woman freshly released from prison and scrambling to rebuild her life under strict parole conditions. When she lands a live-in housemaid job with Nina, a glamorous and wildly wealthy socialite, it initially feels like salvation. That illusion doesn’t last long. Nina’s behaviour grows increasingly erratic, her daughter treats Millie with open hostility, and the only warmth in the house comes from Nina’s charming — and questionably attentive husband, Andrew (Brandon Skelnar).
If you’ve seen more than a handful of domestic thrillers, the narrative pieces here won’t take long to fall into place. Rather than disguising those familiar beats, The Housemaid leans into them, opting for heightened melodrama over genuine mystery. The film struggles to sustain tension, largely because Millie remains a passive protagonist for much of the runtime, reacting to events rather than driving the story forward. When the revelations do come, they tend to arrive bluntly, and the audience is already several steps ahead which can take away the mystery part of this film.
Where the film shines is in tone and performance. Amanda Seyfried is clearly having a blast as Nina, delivering a manic, scene-stealing turn that swings between brittle perfection and full-scale emotional collapse. She injects the film with a camp energy that feels deliberately pitched as part Stepford Wife, part vintage melodrama, and Feig smartly lets her push those extremes without allowing the film to collapse into parody. Sweeney, meanwhile, plays Millie with a quiet restraint that initially limits her impact, but ultimately pays off once the film fully embraces its more outrageous instincts.
The final act is where The Housemaid truly comes alive. As subtlety is abandoned in favour of full-throttle chaos, the film becomes far more entertaining, leaning into its pulpy roots with twists and tonal flourishes that are far more fun than surprising. By that point, it’s less about solving a mystery and more about enjoying the ride.
Slick, camp, and often knowingly ridiculous, The Housemaid doesn’t always work as a traditional thriller, but Feig’s glossy presentation and confident tonal control keep it from flying off the rails. It’s messy, stylish, and fun, which works best when it stops trying to be clever and fully commits to the madness simmering beneath its pristine surface.
