The Housemaid arrives with a curious mix of expectations and skepticism. Sydney Sweeney's recent box office outings haven't exactly set the world on fire, and opening opposite the latest Avatar installment doesn't do the film any favors commercially. Going in, expectations are understandably tempered. But surprisingly, The Housemaid doesn't take long to find its footing and when it does, it leans hard into its psychological thrills.
The real engine of the film is Amanda Seyfried, who delivers a chillingly unhinged performance as Nina Winchester, a wealthy housewife whose polished exterior begins to fracture almost immediately. Seyfried plays Nina with a simmering instability... her smiles linger too long, her outbursts hit without warning, and her behavior steadily escalates from eccentric to outright disturbing. It's one of those performances where you're constantly bracing for the next emotional whiplash.
Sydney Sweeney stars as Millie Calloway, a young woman with a troubled past who takes a live-in housekeeping job out of sheer necessity. Millie is observant, cautious, and quietly unsettled by Nina's erratic behavior, but her fragile position in life makes walking away impossible. Sweeney's performance is restrained, sometimes almost too much so, but that muted quality works early on as Millie tries to survive rather than confront what's happening around her.
As expected, Andrew Winchester (Brandon Sklenar) enters the equation, and the film follows a familiar erotic-thriller path: lingering looks, late-night drinks, and one bad decision that sends Nina spiraling. At this point, The Housemaid feels like it's heading toward a predictable third-act meltdown.
That's where the film earns its credit.
Instead of saving its biggest twist for the finale, The Housemaid flips the script near the end of the second act, shifting the narrative focus squarely onto Millie. From that moment on, the film becomes something darker and far more interesting. The power dynamics change, motivations are recontextualized, and Millie's character steps fully into the spotlight.
While this isn't Sydney Sweeney's strongest individual performance, her chemistry with Brandon Sklenar is what ultimately elevates the film. Together, they give the latter half of The Housemaid a sharper edge, grounding the psychological turns in something more emotionally believable. Their scenes add tension without relying solely on shock value, allowing the story's darker implications to breathe.
Director Paul Feig, stepping away from comedy, handles the genre shift with confidence. The film is sleek, intimate, and deliberately uncomfortable, leaning into paranoia and emotional manipulation rather than outright violence. It may not reinvent the erotic thriller, but it understands the genre well enough to play with audience expectations.
The Housemaid isn't flawless, and it won't silence every criticism aimed at Sweeney's recent career trajectory. But thanks to Amanda Seyfried's standout performance and a well-timed narrative twist, it's far more compelling than it initially appears.
