Now look, I am usually not someone who enjoys thriller novels or shows. All the reliance on blood, dramatic screams and crazy plots to grab the audience just really isn’t my cup of tea. I’m more drawn to campy shows like “Lisa Frankenstein” or a heartbreaking romance, like “Me Before You.” So, maybe I went into “The Housemaid” already holding one pretty firm opinion: Thrillers are usually more shocking than thought-provoking. But, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself completely sucked into the twisted plot.
In particular, this had a lot to do with the character of Nina Winchester, played by Amanda Seyfried. We are introduced to Nina by following Millie, an ex-convict, who goes to work as a live-in housekeeper and nanny for Nina and her husband. From the beginning, the audience is meant to see Nina as the unhinged antagonist of Millie’s story. Through her two-faced personality and blatant lies, the viewer is clearly guided to dislike her. She fits the stereotypical image of the rich, controlling wife with perfectly curled blonde hair and a knack for crafting the perfect image. With each lie, Millie is pulled closer and closer to her “savior,” who comes in the form of Nina’s husband, Andrew Winchester. At this point, I was seeing Nina exactly the way the movie wanted me to: ridiculous, cruel and easy to judge. That is what makes the first half effective, even when it feels exaggerated. It turns the audience’s judgment into part of the trap.
In the scene where Nina goes crazy, throwing things around her kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel that it seemed so … messy. Seyfried’s Nina felt like a caricature of a woman. It felt unrealistic and gave me a bit of second-hand embarrassment. But simultaneously, it was also too compelling not to continue watching. I was fully ready to just sit back and watch as Nina was taken down by Millie. That expectation is what made the twist more interesting, because the movie had not just tricked Millie; it had tricked me into feeling superior to Nina.
Nina is thrown out of her own home, replaced by Millie, and I am ready to watch Millie and Andrew get their happy ending when I realize that I still have an hour left in the movie. This was the moment I started to distrust my own reading of the story.
So when the scene cuts to Nina alone in her car, laughing through tears, everything finally clicks. The previous scenes felt over the top because Nina was performing. Nina Winchester had managed to “crazy” her way out of her own house. The reversal made the plot I had criticized — the excess, the messiness, the embarrassment — suddenly feel intentional.
“She doesn’t run from the villain; in fact, she sinks further into her role to escape.”
Nina shifts from being a monster to a mother willing to do anything to free her daughter from the grasp of her abusive father. Nina is not written as a stereotypical helpless victim or a jealous wife. She doesn’t run from the villain; in fact, she sinks further into her role to escape. So, despite how genuinely horrible Nina may appear to be to Millie, in my opinion she was the most compelling character. We are not asked to approve of Nina; we are just asked to look further.
That shift makes the final scene between Andrew and Nina all the more satisfying. Andrew is the one crying and begging for Nina to take him back, while Nina remains calm and deliberate. For the first time, she is taking control of a situation that has long been a twisted game against her. Her actions begin to feel less like instability and more like calculated revenge.
Her final act is another performance: she offers Andrew forgiveness, lets him believe he has regained control and then kills him. More importantly, though, she protects Millie and finally chooses herself over fear.
Her growth doesn’t excuse her initial actions, but it does make her one of the most memorable and impactful characters in the movie. By the end, I had completely reversed my initial impression: I did not exactly like Nina, but I respected the intelligence of her performance.
