‘Victorian Psycho’ Cannes Review: Maika Monroe Turns Final Girl Convention Upside Down

A dark horror comedy — and a period piece — better suited to a Midnight slot than the official section it landed in at Cannes, Victorian Psycho is an enjoyable if minor film that parodies Victorian-era cinema with a pitch-black sense of humor. Starring Maika Monroe — unquestionably a genre star and the archetypal final girl of her generation — the feature from former critic and Sanctuary director Zachary Wigon plays the experiences of a mildly unhinged governess hired to care for the children of a wealthy family in the English countryside entirely for laughs. Very dark laughs.

«I am the most normal person anyone here will ever meet,» her voiceover purrs, with a knowing smirk. And she’s not entirely wrong. Yes, Winifred is mentally unstable and prone to spectacular outbursts of violence — but measured against the parade of characters she encounters, she practically registers as charming. She arrives having «failed» at every previous position she’s held, each of which ended badly in ways the film delights in not spelling out. None of that stops her from immediately winning over her new employers, Mr. and Mrs. Pounds (Jason Isaacs and Ruth Wilson), and gradually, the children too. Her inner monologue, though, makes it abundantly clear that she is perpetually on the edge of something.

When complications mount — some of them rooted in the casual male entitlement she’s expected to absorb without complaint — Winifred finally lets her more psychopathic side off the leash. What follows is a cascade of crimes, cover-ups, and deceptions that, for a stretch, is genuinely entertaining to watch unspool. But as the minutes accumulate, the film’s central conceit begins to sag. Monroe’s recurring conspiratorial wink at the audience loses its charge. And Victorian Psycho finds itself with nowhere particularly interesting left to go.

In a quieter release window — or dropped on a streaming platform on a slow weekend — Wigon’s film could find a comfortable home as a light, disposable bit of fun, buoyed by Monroe’s deft comic timing as she dispenses with a rotating cast of insufferable minor characters. But beyond that — and despite the welcome arrival of Thomasin McKenzie as a fellow household employee who makes the mistake of trusting her — neither the film nor the character offers much in the way of forward momentum. Still, there’s something quietly satisfying about watching it flip the script: for once, Maika Monroe gets to be the monster, not the survivor.