The Residence

Embracing the immaturity of a sitcom and the put-on sophistication of prestige TV, Netflix’s The Residence nestles into a comfy stylistic nook that makes more than eight hours of (surprisingly dense) storytelling go by in a flash. The murder mystery show is produced by the prolific Shonda Rhimes but spearheaded by writer Paul William Davies, who injects it with such an infectious sense of fun that you can’t help but play along. At least until the feature-length finale, which strains to deliver the sort of satisfying climax that you’d expect from a show that name-checks The Murder of the Orient Express and Knives Out with such affection. The genre’s ongoing resurgence didn’t, as many have decided, begin with Rian Johnson’s hit. The movie did admittedly well, leaving Netflix with no option but to hurl a reported $100 million at Daniel Craig to lure him back as the smooth-talking detective Benoit Blanc. But a couple of years before Knives Out, however, director Kenneth Branagh reintroduced Agatha Christie’s enduring detective Hercule Poirot to audiences with his largely reverential The Murder of the Orient Express. Believe it or not, the movie was a bigger hit than Knives Out. Branagh made the correct decision to not tinker with the book’s now-legendary climax, having understood that without it, it’s no different from the scores of other murder mysteries that Christie would churn out on a monthly basis.