If a group of talented people who usually make good movies get together and make a movie that doesn’t seem that good, is it because they were purposefully trying to make a movie that seems bad or is the movie actually bad?
This is the dilemma I’m facing with “The Woman in the Window,” the new psychological thriller on Netflix that was another victim of the coronavirus pandemic. After being pushed back, acquired by Disney in the Fox purchase, re-edited and eventually given to Netflix for distribution, the film premiered on the streaming service to a lukewarm if not cold reception.
Based on a best-selling novel, the film’s screenplay is written by award-winning actor and playwright Tracy Letts, directed by acclaimed filmmaker Joe Wright and stars several award-winning actors, so all the elements should be there for a rousing success.
And yet, everything about the production feels more like a 1950s B movie or a Lifetime movie than a big budget blockbuster. On the one hand, it could specifically be an homage to those types of movies and giving off that feel on purpose. On the other hand, maybe all these talented people just didn’t do very well together.
Either way, there is some value to be gleaned from this mess, especially when all the elements align to truly feel Hitchcockian, even though the rest feels like a second-rate TV movie. With the right mindset, it can be a lot of fun.
Anna Fox (played by Amy Adams) is an agoraphobic child psychologist who finds herself keeping tabs on the picture perfect family across the street through the windows of her New York City brownstone.
After meeting the wife Jane (Julianne Moore) and her son (Fred Hechinger), Anna is skeptical of the husband and father Alistair (Gary Oldman). But her suspicions become all too real when she thinks she witnesses Jane’s brutal murder from the window.
But as both Anna’s history with substance abuse and side effects from her medication come to light, it’s her word against Alistair’s, especially after being introduced to his wife Jane (now played by Jennifer Jason Leigh) for the first time.
While Hitchcock will always be the bar by which all thrillers are judged, “The Woman in the Window” most closely looks and feels like the director’s 1954 classic “Rear Window,” but instead of Jimmy Stewart in a wheelchair we have Amy Adams suffering from a mental illness. In some instances, Joe Wright’s direction does emit those Hitchcock shots filled with dread and suspense, but there are other times when his choices are too weird and comical.
Unfortunately, there’s a fine line between hinting at homage and blatantly copying better movies, and there is a love/hate relationship this one has with those better movies. Throughout the runtime, Anna can be seen watching and falling asleep to several old movies including some thrillers — possible fodder for her suspicions? — but most of the time I wish I was just watching those movies instead.
While the screenplay and direction is hit or miss in quality, the performances are quite entertaining, even if they aren’t up their usual award-winning caliber. Oldman is always fun as the bad guy, and Moore and Leigh’s over-the-top housewife roles are uncomfortable in the best way. Even the suspicious neighbor played by Wyatt Russell and the detective played by Brian Tyree Henry play up the Lifetime or B-movie vibes of the characters.
Sadly, a big portion of the plot and eventual twists and turns in the narrative rely heavily on discussions of mental health, something that no one in this production handles well. No matter what happens or what Anna says happens, her psychological illness isn’t taken seriously by her or the people around her. She either denies she has a problem or everyone treats her like a villain because of it, and that makes everyone look bad.
I’m in a bit of a dilemma with this one, but it could be just a case of denial. “The Woman in the Window” is not a good movie, but at only 1 hour 40 minutes long and free with Netflix, it’s a perfectly fun if not disposable one to have on in the background while doing something else.