A Residence of Disappointment: When Star Power and Intrigue Fall Flat
The premise alone was enough to set expectations soaring. A Shonda Rhimes-produced murder mystery, channeling the playful spirit of Knives Out, set within the hallowed halls of the White House? It sounded like a guaranteed hit, a surefire crowd-pleaser tailor-made for Netflix’s algorithm-driven success. If I were a streaming executive presented with such a pitch, I would have, without hesitation, greenlit the project, just as Netflix did. The allure is undeniable: Rhimes, the television titan behind Grey’s Anatomy and Bridgerton, combined with the kind of engaging, slightly absurd whodunit that director Rian Johnson has so successfully mined with the Knives Out franchise. Add a cast brimming with talent – Uzo Aduba of Orange is the New Black, Randall Park from Fresh Off the Boat, and the formidable Giancarlo Esposito of Better Call Saul – and the recipe for success seemed complete. One might even be tempted to start printing counterfeit money in anticipation of the inevitable deluge of viewership.
Yet, despite all the promise, despite the pedigree of its creators and the charisma of its cast, The Residence, now streaming on Netflix, ultimately disappoints. It’s a flimsy, underwhelming experience, a pale imitation of the greatness it could have achieved. Created by Paul William Davies, known for his work on Scandal and For the People, and produced by Rhimes and her frequent collaborator Betsy Beers, The Residence is not a complete disaster, an unmitigated failure. However, it falls far short of the heights of Bridgerton or Grey’s Anatomy. It’s akin to a dish prepared with the finest, most expensive, artisanal ingredients that inexplicably ends up tasting like a simple, canned bowl of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. It’s palatable, certainly, but nowhere near as delicious as the sum of its high-quality components should suggest.
The eight-episode miniseries unfolds primarily on the night of a state dinner held in honor of Australian dignitaries. The setting is the very heart of American power, the White House, specifically the residential wing. The drama ignites when A.B. Wynter (Esposito), the chief White House usher, is discovered dead in a room within the residence. The circumstances surrounding his death are ambiguous, leaving it unclear whether foul play was involved. The incident throws the White House into a political, diplomatic, and jurisdictional quagmire. D.C. Metro Police Chief Larry Dokes (Isiah Whitlock Jr.) calls upon his trusted consulting detective, Cordelia Cupp (Aduba), to unravel the mystery. Cupp is portrayed as quirky, though bordering on irritating, savant-like, and utterly devoid of social grace. This unconventional, Sherlockian sleuth somehow manages to convince the President (Paul Fitzgerald) to lock down the entire White House, allowing her to interrogate everyone from butlers and chefs to political aides, foreign envoys, and even the President himself.
The narrative interweaves scenes from Cupp’s investigation with those from the congressional hearings that inevitably follow the incident, complete with a cameo by former Senator Al Franken playing, unsurprisingly, a senator. The premise is intriguing, the setting rife with potential for political intrigue and social satire, and the cast undeniably talented. Yet, The Residence falters in its execution, failing to coalesce these promising elements into a satisfying whole.
The character of Cordelia Cupp, played by Aduba, is a particular source of disappointment. While the attempt to create a quirky, memorable detective is evident, Cupp lacks the originality and captivating charm of truly great pop-culture detectives, such as Benoit Blanc from Knives Out. Instead, she comes across as a cheap, off-brand imitation, a Daniel Craig character ordered from Amazon: looks promising in the promotional images but falls apart upon closer inspection. Her character development feels superficial, existing in the shallow end of the dramatic pool, yet she may arguably be the most thoroughly developed character within the overpopulated cast.
The central mystery of Wynter’s death is equally lackluster. The death itself is as uninspired as Esposito’s character in the flashbacks. It fails to provide the lighthearted tone the series seems to be aiming for, and the attempts at humor feel forced and awkward, undermining the intended comedic effect.
Even the title, The Residence, feels like a missed opportunity. While technically accurate, referring to the private living quarters of the President and his family within the White House, it’s a generic, sanitized label for a series aspiring to quirk and comedy. Titles like Knives Out, Clue, and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang are snappy and instantly engaging. The Residence, on the other hand, lacks that immediate appeal, easily blurring into the background (my mind, for instance, consistently confuses it with Fox’s medical drama The Resident).
Ultimately, the series suffers from a general lack of spark, panache, style, and verve. It’s all promise and no delivery, less than the sum of its considerable parts. The current television landscape is saturated with series that are "good enough" but not truly great, making it all the more frustrating to endure mediocre episodes crafted by some of Hollywood’s most accomplished professionals.
If we’re going to have Shonda Rhimes tackling a comedic murder-mystery set in the White House, I want to experience the best possible version of that concept. Not simply the most passable one Netflix can rush onto our screens. The Residence had the potential to be something truly special, a clever and engaging whodunit that both entertained and offered insightful commentary on the workings of power. Instead, it’s a missed opportunity, a reminder that even the most talented creators and performers can sometimes fall short of expectations. It is watchable, but eminently forgettable.
