
Sydney Sweeney
Millie Calloway

“Discover what lies behind closed doors.”
Trying to escape her past, Millie Calloway accepts a job as a live-in housemaid for the wealthy Nina and Andrew Winchester. But what begins as a dream job quickly unravels into something far more dangerous—a sexy, seductive game of secrets, scandal, and power.
There is something deeply unnerving about an immaculate all-white room. You step into it and instantly feel like you've already ruined it, even if you haven't touched a thing. Paul Feig taps into that discomfort beautifully in The Housemaid.
The house itself—a giant, antiseptic Long Island McMansion—doesn't feel lived in so much as displayed. It's a museum for wealthy dysfunction, the sort of place that seems to be waiting for blood to hit the rug. And because this is an adaptation of Freida McFadden's wildly popular, unapologetically pulpy airport thriller, the only mystery is whose blood it will be.
Feig has been circling this territory for a while. If A Simple Favor was his glossy, knowing flirtation with suburban mystery, The Housemaid is him diving headfirst into erotic-thriller excess. I don't mean that dismissively.
Sometimes trashy is exactly the right texture. Sometimes you really do want to watch gorgeous people make terrible decisions in expensive clothes.

Sydney Sweeney plays Millie, freshly out of prison on parole and desperate enough for a reset that she ignores warning signs any sane person would run from. She takes a live-in job with Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried), a rich housewife with a smile that never quite reaches her eyes. The setup is so ominous it's almost funny.
"A gleefully trashy, twist-heavy domestic thriller powered by Amanda Seyfried, undermined by a goofy script, plot holes, and uneven lead acting."
The pulpy tone, glossy visuals, crowd-pleasing twists, and Amanda Seyfried’s unhinged performance make the film a fun, fast-moving watch for those in the mood for camp. At the same time, a far-fetched third act, contrived coincidences, and a frequently criticized turn from Sydney Sweeney keep it from rising above guilty-pleasure status, with book readers also frustrated by simplified characters and adaptation choices.
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The Winchesters aren’t the only ones with secrets. From unsolicited nudes in the DMs to Stagecoach “are-they-or-aren’t-they?” sightings and a stealth Blake Lively casting assist, the real drama of The Housemaid played out far beyond that creepy attic.
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