You ever watch a film that’s this close to being something special? Like, all the parts are there — the cast, the themes, the weird little ghosty metaphors — and for a solid 40 minutes, you’re buckled in thinking, “Holy shit, this might actually say something”?
Yeah. The Uninvited starts off like that.
Nadia Conners‘ debut feature is intimate, theatrical, and brutally clever — at least at first. It flirts with being a ghost story, a satire, and a commentary on how women get quietly erased while still being technically present. We follow Rose (Elizabeth Reaser, criminally underrated as always), a once-promising actress now downgraded to set designer for her own life, as she spirals through an aggressively curated garden party thrown to celebrate her husband’s (Walton Goggins) new Hollywood golden boy.
Already, we’re in deliciously uncomfortable territory. Every glance is a microaggression. Every comment drips with patronising Hollywood rot. Rose isn’t even the plus-one — she’s the unpaid intern in heels. Add to this a mysterious elderly woman (Lois Smith, scene-stealer of the century) who wanders in claiming the house used to be hers, and you’ve got a recipe for eerie, feminine introspection with a side of inherited trauma.
And then there’s Lucien — played by Pedro Pascal with that trademark mix of charm and melancholy that makes you lean in a little closer. He’s the wildcard, the actor-turned-metaphor, equal parts temptation and exposition dump. He should be a fascinating mirror to Rose’s internal decay. Instead… well, hold that thought.
Because then, out of absolutely nowhere — bam! — we get hit with The Cheating Arc™.
You know the one. The “Oops, I slept with your ex/the hot actor/the metaphor for youth” subplot that somehow derails all the beautiful character work we’ve been building for an hour.
Look, I’ve sat through every kind of soap-opera plot twist imaginable, but if I have to watch one more story where a woman’s emotional unravelling is explained by “surprise, infidelity!”, I’m going to start carrying a foghorn into screenings.
It’s just… boring. Like, offensively boring. Especially when everything before that was swimming in nuance. We were right there — talking about invisibility, about age, about the way a woman’s ambition becomes a punchline the second she’s no longer marketable. And then suddenly, we’re back in Melodrama 101.
That said, there’s still plenty to admire. The performances are razor-sharp. Goggins plays sleazy-but-slick with such precision it’s almost infuriating. Lois Smith brings this ghostly gravitas that could anchor an entire trilogy. And Pedro Pascal, even saddled with a tired subplot, gives Lucien a strange, weary softness that’s hard to shake. The script, when it’s not falling back on clichés, sparkles with biting humour and jagged little truths.
But for me, The Uninvited ends up feeling like someone made you the perfect meal… and then the salt shaker exploded all over it.
Final thoughts:
It almost had something to say. It almost gave us something new. But the minute the “cheating twist” was trotted out like a sad show pony, it lost me. Not because I’m scandalised — I’m queer, neurodivergent, and 300% here for messy relationship drama — but because I’m just… tired. Of that being the fallback. Of women’s stories getting hijacked by men’s mistakes.
Just once, I’d like the twist to be something wild. Like, she joins a commune. Or starts her own film studio. Or turns into a capybara and escapes into the forest.
Anything but another “he slept with who?” subplot.
