Review: The job may be tidying up, but ‘The Housemaid’ brings plenty of trash

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.