Review: Magpie (2024)

by Mike Matthaiakis

In Magpie, Daisy Ridley stars as Anette, a weary, isolated mother of two navigating the emotional turbulence of a strained marriage. Directed by Sam Yates, this indie thriller unravels with a slow, simmering intensity as it explores the toll of a toxic relationship and the fragile psyche of its central character. Though the story itself is relatively straightforward, Ridley’s performance brings layers of nuance, anchoring the film as it alternates between psychological suspense and grim domestic drama.

The film opens with Anette seemingly tethered to an idyllic yet isolating countryside mansion outside London, which she shares with her husband Ben (Shazad Latif), an author whose detached and selfish demeanor adds a sinister edge to their otherwise quiet lives. Ben’s role in the household is limited to criticizing Anette and disregarding her needs, a treatment that has left her frayed and full of suppressed resentment. Latif brings a convincing menace to Ben, whose cruelty is masked by an outwardly charming facade—a performance that makes it easy to see why Anette is caught in a toxic cycle of dependence and frustration.

As their young daughter Tilly (Hiba Ahmed) lands a role in a historical film, Ben’s attention shifts to the allure of Alicia (Matilda Lutz), a captivating Italian actress on set with Tilly. Anette, left alone with their infant, finds herself spiraling deeper into isolation. Each scene builds on her rising anger and dissatisfaction, with subtle yet eerie symbols of her mental state scattered throughout: her short, severe haircut, a broken mirror, and grim scenes where perfectly cooked dinners are left untouched. These moments invite viewers to question whether Anette is simply desperate or on the verge of something darker.

While Magpie can be overly direct at times, leaning into melodrama, its strength lies in Yates’s ability to channel this into a suspenseful experience, one steeped in mood and tension. Composer Isobel Waller-Bridge’s ominous score adds an eerie undertone to scenes of otherwise mundane domestic life, giving the impression that something foreboding lurks beneath the surface. The slow pacing may frustrate some, but it ultimately serves to heighten the suspense, turning the viewer’s attention toward every detail in Anette’s fraught existence.

Ridley’s portrayal of Anette is a bold choice; she resists making her character immediately sympathetic or easy to understand, opting instead to reveal her layers gradually, a decision that reflects her depth and growing range as an actor. This performance draws empathy not through likability but by embodying the suffocating experience of a woman caught in a web of isolation and unacknowledged sacrifices. When Anette’s bitterness and frustration finally reach a breaking point, the film shifts to a new, more chilling tone, leaving viewers with a powerful if unsettling conclusion.

Magpie won’t suit every taste, as its approach to suspense veers more towards a psychological portrait than a traditional thriller. Yet for those who appreciate an atmospheric exploration of character and the dark complexities of modern relationships, it offers a haunting experience. With Ridley and Latif’s dynamic performances at its core, Magpie lingers as a tense and discomforting dive into the darker side of domestic life, one that confronts the price of unmet needs and ignored voices. The final twist—unexpected, raw, and tinged with just a touch of irony—ties everything together, leaving audiences with a resonant statement about the nature of power and desire.

In cinemas – Running time: 1 hour and 30 mins