The Residence review: Netflix’s munchable murder mystery offers much-needed respite after the absolute perfection of Adolescence

Also read – Neeyat: Vidya Balan’s murder mystery proves that creative bankruptcy isn’t limited to the likes of Adipurush

A still from Netflix’s The Residence.

The Residence wants to march alongside these greats. But a part of it also wants to throw a banana peel in their path. If nothing else, it serves as a mostly successful introduction for Cordelia Cupp, a detective who genuinely earns a spot alongside Poirot and Blanc. Played by Uzo Aduba, Cordelia is summoned to the White House during a hugely important State Dinner with Australian dignitaries. She is escorted through the maze-like interiors of the historic mansion, and taken to an empty upstairs bedroom where she sees the dead body of a middle-aged man lying on the carpeted floor. The deceased is AB Wynter, the icy ‘Chief Usher’ of the White House, a man who basically functions like a combination of Alfred from the Batman comics to Nestor from the Tintin books. As it turns out, this time, there is no way that the proverbial butler could’ve done it.

But the president’s cronies would like nothing more than for his death to be ruled a suicide and for this mess to be swept under the rug immediately. US-Australia relations, they tell Cordelia, are at an all-time low, and even the slightest whiff of a scandal — forget one this big — would surely derail discussions. And, to the layman’s eye, AB’s death certainly looks like a suicide. He was, after all, found with a note clutched in his hand. But Cordelia isn’t having any of it. With a roll of the eye, she instructs the squadron of sycophantic men around her to keep their theories to themselves and let her do her job.

Over the course of eight episodes, not only do we learn about Cordelia’s many amusing eccentricities — for instance, she greatly enjoys birding, an addictive and honour-bound activity that is often referenced during her investigation  — but we also meet each of the suspects, turn by turn. As with any murder mystery worth its salt, they all had reasons to kill AB. Only hours ago, he’d cancelled his overdue retirement, effectively snatching the position away from an already appointed successor. AB had also gotten into an argument with the White House’s head chef, who, possessed by the spirit of Anthony Bourdain, had threatened to kill him for interfering with her work. AB was frustrated by the obvious alcoholism of a sassy staff member, the overly intrusive ideas of a cultural liaison, and the potentially problematic behaviour of the president’s wayward brother.

Cordelia essentially pieces together the mystery in real time — the story unfolds across one night — but the structure is so clever that you might momentarily forget how algorithmic it is. They say that Netflix encourages writers to follow a few basic SOPs when creating shows that can ultimately generate the desired results. In the case of the streaming industry, nothing is more important than engagement and audience stickiness. Not only do streamers want you to watch more than one episode of a given show, they want you to stick around on the platform even if it isn’t your cup of tea. To achieve these goals, they insist on certain plot beats, like murders in the first episode. And to ensure that distracted audiences don’t switch off, they supposedly mandate that certain characters verbally recap the plot at regular intervals.

The Residence finds neat ways to get around these hurdles; by framing the story through a Congressional hearing, it gives Davies plenty of opportunity to have characters look back on the events of that fateful night. “So, what you’re saying is…” a Senator will ask the many men and women who are summoned for questioning months after the murder, and they will provide a convenient recap of events. The screenplay, on the other hand, seems to have been designed with impatient teenagers in mind. This doesn’t always have to be a bad thing. The Residence is edited like an Edgar Wright movie, replete with humorous cutaways and dry jokes aimed at everything from AB’s ancient ways to the disrupters that he rubbed the wrong way.

Read more – Murder Mubarak: Homi Adajania’s crash course on how not to make a mystery movie; it’s shrill, sloppy and Sara-iously silly

A still from Netflix’s The Residence.

Is the show trying to make sneaky statements about the right and the left; or the generational divide; or even the perennial battle between modernity and tradition? Who knows. If it is, it’s all very superficial. But even more than the central mystery — which is very engaging, mind you — it’s the show’s handling of the upstairs-downstairs drama that is truly subversive. Davies might have been bound by the demands of streamers and the restrictions of the genre, but that doesn’t stop him from turning The Residence into a show about class. “It’s us versus them,” one character declares early on, highlighting the fault-lines that have appeared between the privileged dignitaries and the blue-collar staff. Beneath the ostentatious art direction, the flashy editing, and Aduba’s fabulous central performance, The Residence is a show about rather basic people, engaged in rather basic conflicts.

They want job satisfaction; they want to find love, they want to be seen and heard. Some of them, like the executive chef, doesn’t want the pastry guy encroaching on her turf. Others, like the president’s brother, is clearly frustrated after having spent a lifetime in his shadow. Even though The Residence’s denouement might not stack up to those of The Murder on the Orient Express or Knives Out, the show compensates by succeeding as a drama. Old-fashioned themes such as jealousy, betrayal, and ambition offer a nice contrast to the otherwise contemporary narrative style. It’s as if the show is commenting on itself. And in this era of zero self-awareness, this goes a long way.

The Residence
Creator – Paul William Davies
Cast – Uzo Aduba, Giancarlo Esposito, Ken Marino, Randall Park, Molly Griggs, Edwina Findley, Susan Kalechi Watson, Jason Lee
Rating – 4/5