The Residence and The Last of Sheila

I was in need of escapism this weekend, as I worked on a tricky MLA proposal, finished reviewing an article, co-hosted a baby shower, and drafted my taxes. The Guardian alerted me to the pleasures of a new 8-part Netflix series, The Residence, and this was a perfect antidote to a too-busy weekend.

The premise is straightforward, but the storytelling is not; the acting is superlative.

The chief butler at the White House, AB Wynter (Giancarlo Esposito) is found dead, his wrists cut. The officials who are keeping an anxious eye on the State Dinner downstairs are keen to write it off as a suicide.

Enter Cordelia Cupp (Uzo Aduba), declared by a Maryland police chief to be the world’s best consulting detective. But she’s also a birder, so her progress into the White House is delayed for a few minutes while she contemplates the skies, spotting a grackle.

A few minutes of close examination reveals to Cupp that the head usher has been murdered; and it’s overkill, in fact, given that there are indications of both head bludgeoning and poisoning to accompany the cut wrists. The suspects include the White House’s legion of staff members as well as its famous residents, the President and his husband. Jane Curtin turns up as the husband’s mother, who discovers the body and shrieks her dismay. But this is really Aduba’s show.

Each episode is named after a more-or-less famous crime story, from the more obscure Sherlock Holmes episode of “The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb” to Knives Out.

This is a TV program in love with crime fictions of all forms and genres, and since I’m similarly smitten, the in-jokes and metafiction work for me. Some may find it rather precious.

My favourite episode is “The Last of Sheila,” which is a fairly deep cut.

The Last of Sheila was a 1973 murder mystery film with some fantastical twists, co-authored by Broadway composer Stephen Sondheim and actor Anthony Perkins, who both loved puzzles. Despite my decades-long immersion in Sondheim, I’d never heard of it, until a friend mentioned it a couple of years ago. My family enjoyed it immensely, although it’s very much a period piece, and some aspects will now provoke cringing. Casting both Dyan Cannon and Raquel Welch in the same film and giving them little to do, beyond being eye-candy, irritates. But there are some fun stories.

But the episode of The Residence named after the film is sheer delight because it features Edwina Findley as a butler (the titular Sheila) who got too cozy with the former First Family, even joining the former First Lady at her table during the State Dinner honouring Australia. This infuriates her superiors, but Sheila is unrepentant–while also terrified that she’ll lose her job. She’s easily added to the growing list of prime suspects.

Another stand-out episode begins with several minutes of Spanish-language conversation between a young girl and her mother, a maid at the White House, whose role in the murder is murky. Given the increasing avowal of unilingualism in the U.S., this is an especially welcome interlude, and the daughter’s love of murder mysteries (she’s reading The Murder of Roger Ackroyd) adds to the general wink-wink self-reflexivity here.

I’ve neglected to mention that Kylie Minogue and Hugh Jackman turn up, as themselves, and are much fun to watch.

The State Dinner, incidentally, is held to smooth over diplomatic relations with Australia after the previous administration picked pointless fights with a once-valued ally.

Well, that sounds familiar.

A few other highlights: the battle between the old-school pastry chef dishing up cherries jubilee and bananas foster and the cutting-edge young female chef; the centring of Black, Latina, and Asian female characters and Cordelia’s quick dismissal of the large contingent of middle-aged white men trying to conceal the death from the guests downstairs; the camera work; and the fabulous musical score, which I suspect also contains some hints and clues that I’m missing on a first viewing.

Not all critics are enthralled with The Residence, but I do take exception to the NY Times‘s assessment that “Despite its setting, “The Residence” is not a political show in the seven of eight episodes made available for review.” This is deeply political television: it’s pushing back against the idea that diversity and inclusion matter; it’s skewering American political narcissism and smugness. And that’s very welcome.

I suspect Sondheim would have appreciated the homage.