The best thing about Paul Feig’s The Housemaid, adapted from Freida McFadden’s novel of the same name, is Amanda Seyfried. Her performance as Nina Winchester, a housewife with a murky past, perfectly captures the pulpy, almost campy nature of the story.
The Housemaid opens with Millie — played by Sydney Sweeney — driving a rundown car to an interview at the Winchester house. Down on her luck and on probation, she is desperate for something to get her by. When Nina offers her the job of a live-in maid, Millie feels her luck turning, and her hopes of finally changing her life begin to rise.
The next morning brings in the reality of her situation — Nina has a meltdown over some PTA meeting notes. Only her husband Andrew (played by Brandon Sklenar) can make her calm down. Mind games ensue and Millie is dragged into Nina’s madness while facing more than expected interest from the man of the house. As tensions come to a head, Millie learns of the dark truth hidden behind the doors of the sprawling Long Island home.
McFadden’s novel blew up on social media and catapulted her to the top of bestseller lists. Its easy language and the narrative’s twists drew much appreciation.
Paul Feig’s adaptation, for the most part, works as a thriller. The film runs a little longer than it perhaps needs to, but the pacing rarely drags. The tension steadily escalates, letting the dynamics between the three characters build until the film leans into the melodramatic pleasures that made McFadden’s novel such a runaway hit.
Amanda Seyfried delivers every bit of the story’s “unhinged woman” theatrics with absolute commitment. She understands the assignment — the character is volatile, manipulative, untrustworthy, and occasionally absurd — and she plays all the extremes with a precision that keeps viewers entertained.
Sydney Sweeney, however, never settles into the role of Millie. Much of her performance feels static, as though she is playing a version of herself rather than disappearing into the character. The Millie in McFadden’s novel is nervous, watchful, scared of discovery — and slowly reveals her “crazy” as the story progresses. Here, Sweeney spends much of the film in the same sultry register, with little variation in expression or emotional range. The film’s costuming choices don’t help her either. She is often styled in a way that leans heavily into the “sexy maid” trope, which feels at odds with the character’s circumstances and motivations. The result is that Millie often feels less like a character in her own right and more like an extension of the sultry persona Sweeney has cultivated on screen.
Brandon Sklenar, as Nina’s husband Andrew, lands somewhere in the middle. He possesses a kind of weaponized charisma — a chiseled, steady presence that serves as the perfect gravitational center for the women to orbit. In a story propelled by psychological tension and shifting power dynamics, Sklenar’s serviceable performance mostly functions as a handsome anchor — essential for plot movement, even if he feels more like a narrative device than a character with his own psychological weight.
Rebecca Sonnenshine’s screenplay doesn’t alter much of McFadden’s story. Adapted intelligently, it creates a similar journey that readers go through while reading the book. The plot twist, while not entirely original, still shocks in its execution and final form.
The Housemaid is not Gone Girl (2014); nor does it try to be. Just like McFadden’s book, it plays into its strengths and delivers tension, heat, plenty of startling moments and over-the-top screams — everything that a “date-night” movie with mass appeal needs.
Rutvik Bhandari is an independent writer. He lives in Pune. You can find him talking about books on Instagram and YouTube (@themindlessmess).
