Sydney Sweeney Dampens the Otherwise Deliciously Campy 'The Housemaid'

With The Housemaid, director Paul Feig takes the campy delights of A Simple Favor and cranks them up about 12 notches, and it mostly works. Amanda Seyfried is fully game, delivering exactly the kind of gloriously over-the-top performance the movie requires. Brandon Sklenar, meanwhile, is just enough of an unknown quantity to make his turn devilishly fun. And then there is Sydney Sweeney.

Whatever controversies surround Sweeney, I have no issue with her actressin’ when she’s cast in the right role. She’s terrific as a disaffected teen in Euphoria, appropriately restrained in The Immaculate, and perfectly serviceable in the romcom Anyone But You. But The Housemaid asks her to stretch beyond her limited range, and that’s where things fall apart. It often feels like she’s reading from cue cards and sleepwalking through much of the film. While “just being Sydney Sweeney” works in some roles, here she’s badly outmatched by Seyfried, and the contrast is, at times, awkward to downright cringey.

That said, sometimes it works, too, unintentionally heightening the camp. Seyfried and Sklenar are having an absolute blast, while Sweeney mostly stands around murmuring in a monotone. The result keeps The Housemaid from cult classic status. Instead, it settles for “awkwardly fun.” I couldn’t help wondering what someone like Milly Alcock or Samara Weaving might have done with the role.

For those who haven’t read the Frieda McFadden novel on which The Housemaid is based, I won’t spoil the twists, since they’re a huge part of why the back half of the film works as well as it does. Sweeney plays Millie Calloway, a woman with a dark past who’s hired by Nina Winchester (Seyfried) to be the household help. That past is precisely why Millie can’t leave the job, even after it becomes clear that something is deeply off inside the Winchester home.

Calling Nina “moody” would be a wild understatement. She explodes over the smallest things and runs hot and cold with Millie. When she runs cold, she’s vicious. The entire household lives on pins and needles trying to manage Nina’s volatile moods, while her handsome, wealthy husband Andrew (Sklenar) occasionally makes eyes at Millie amid the chaos. Millie, meanwhile, is trapped in an untenable situation, and Andrew feels like her only possible lifeline.

You may think you know where The Housemaid is headed, but if you haven’t read the book, you’re only half-right. It’s the other half that makes the movie such a blast, as the tone pivots from Fatal Attraction-style domestic thriller to something closer to Southern Gothic horror. The back half left me positively giddy, except when Sweeney was on screen, prompting thoughts like, “Who invited The Room into my Death Becomes Her?” You can practically see her thinking through how to deliver her next line, while Seyfried just throws herself into the role, chewing the scenery with her bared teeth. It’s like watching Peyton Manning peg a Pee-Wee football player in the back of the head. Yes, it’s funny, just not always in the way the movie intends.

Still, as a theatrical experience, it’s hard not to recommend The Housemaid, if only to watch Elizabeth Perkins (as Andrew’s mother) steal every single scene she’s in. She’s so good that it almost feels criminal to pair her opposite Sweeney, like serving prosciutto and creamy cheese on a slice of wet bread. Not even a limp performance can kill the fun entirely, but it does take the edge off.