Netflix Murder Mystery The Perfect Couple Struggles to Stay Afloat

You’ve seen all the beats before: a lavish estate owned by upper-crust socialites, a cast of eccentric characters with dubious morals, and a big party being spoiled by a murder most foul. Following in a long line of whodunits, The Perfect Couple is a six-episode Netflix miniseries that draws on each of these familiar ideas as it leans on the star power of Nicole Kidman and Liev Schreiber to stand out from the pack. But while they do offer great performances (and it’s often amusing to watch these generally deplorable modern aristocrats become tangled in an increasingly convoluted web of messy romantic relationships and motives), as the series goes on, it fails to rise above the tide, eventually drowning in the sea of similar, better-told murder mysteries.

The story follows the Winburys, a wealthy Nantucket family helmed by Greer (Nicole Kidman), a famous novelist who keeps her sons in line, and Tag (Live Schreiber), an old-money patrician who spends most of his time smoking weed and hitting golf balls at seagulls. Entering the hornet’s nest is Amelia (Eve Hewson), a non-blue blood zoologist who’s set to marry Benji (Billy Howle), one of the Winbury sons, to Greer’s dismay. But right before they can tie the knot, you guessed it, someone from the wedding party is found dead in the water.

When it comes to our suspects, they’re an unevenly presented bunch. As mentioned, Kidman gives a standout performance as Greer, whose vigilant eye towards her family and obsession with presentation belie deeper secrets. Her and Schreiber’s on-screen chemistry is wonderfully rancid, as betrayals and previous wrongs add to this toxic stew of warped dependency. This family drama is where this series is at its best, and watching as the Winbury’s carefully maintained façade shatters during chaotic dinner scenes and book signings gone wrong makes for satisfying schadenfreude. As Thomas Winbury, Jack Reynor carries on his streak from Midsommar of deftly portraying an insufferable guy (he was the a-hole boyfriend in that flick), the worst brother of the bunch whose rich kid antics will have you shaking your head. His wife is similarly the worst, a two-faced bully played well by Dakota Fanning.

However, while there is fun to be had in watching these terrible people get some comeuppance, this story largely fails to wring out any deeper drama. Much of the problem comes down to our main character, Amelia, who is relatively sidelined, as she’s not given the agency or screentime to make an impact. On the one hand, she frequently comes across like the only genuine person in the bunch—she harbors deep feelings of grief for the murder victim, and there are some compelling scenes of her questioning her upcoming marriage—but in the end, she’s not much of a factor in the central mystery. 

Overall, the series fails to ground us in her perspective, even though she’s supposed to be the one person you care about in the middle of this tangled disaster. She eventually becomes the center of a half-baked love triangle that feels like it’s supposed to overlap with the series’ sarcastic title, but again, this thread doesn’t have enough room to breathe and barely connects to the larger murderous plot.

As for the central crime, we follow a pair of detectives on the case: Nikki Henry (Donna Lynne Champlin), an out-of-towner agent, and Dan Carter (Michael Beach), the local police chief who’s a little too cozy with the Winburys due to their significant “contributions” to the town police department. Early on and into the middle of this investigation, there’s a good sense of flow as we cut back and forth between the night of the murder and the cops piecing together what happened through testimonials and evidence as we cycle through potential suspects at a rapid clip, each teeming with plausible motives. Unfortunately, all these winding possibilities and red herrings don’t lead to much, and the case peaks in a shoulder-shrug climax that doesn’t feel particularly interesting compared to many of the juicier alternative explanations.

Much of the problem here comes down to the fact that the story’s critique of this decadent, ultra-wealthy family ends up feeling mostly milquetoast and toothless, especially compared to where things start. Early on, the Winburys wield their money and influence to their advantage, threatening people to sign NDAs and implying their donations to the police give them special privileges. It all feels particularly oppressive because Amelia is on the receiving end of this power; she wants to help the truth come to light about who killed her friend, but this controlling family wants all the bad press to go away as quickly as possible. It sets up some promising tensions, especially as the Winburys’ united front begins to crack, unleashing a torrent of accumulated secrets—in the end, the most compelling reveals have nothing to do with the murder and everything to do with what these people have been hiding for much longer. Still, though, given the entire story builds toward unmasking the person behind the central beachside killing, it’s fairly damning that the final reveal feels like a tepid splash instead of a revelatory typhoon.

At several points throughout the series, Greer, a capable author who feels pressured to churn out sequels, voices displeasure that a huge percentage of her book sales come from the airport. What she’s implying is clear: she thinks that some readers view her work as disposable time-filler meant to occupy the space between flights. As The Perfect Couple reaches its lukewarm conclusion, it’s hard not to draw a comparison between this show and that line of thinking. Because, while this miniseries has great performances from its A-listers and a few deliciously dysfunctional family moments, it ultimately feels like the streaming equivalent of an airport novel, just entertaining enough to keep your divided attention but already fading out of memory as airplane wheels hit the tarmac. It’s another imperfect addition to Netflix’s catalog that’s neither bad nor good enough to stand out. Perhaps that’s its greatest crime.

The Perfect Couple is now streaming on Netflix. 

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.

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