‘The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window’ tries to be funny and fails

The series, now on Netflix, is a satire of the domestic suspense thriller genre, specifically “The Woman in the Window” by A.J. Finn. There are many parallels to the book from the mini-series, including the main character’s name, their shared penchant to drink heavily, and the fear both of them have of leaving the house (although Bell’s Anna has ombrophobia, the fear of rain, not agoraphobia, like Anna in the book).

When the series starts out, Bell’s character is a trainwreck. She drinks an entire bottle of wine in her comically large cup that she fills to the brim every time she uses it, which is often, she often mixes the wine with prescription psychotropic drugs, she faints every time she is caught in the rain, she consistently pulls chicken casserole out of her hot oven without oven mitts, and breaks three identical casserole dishes in the first episode alone.

The reason she’s a train wreck? Her child died three years ago, when she was just eight years old. How’d she die? Her husband, a forensic psychologist for the FBI, takes her to his work as part of her school’s Take Your Daughter To Work Day and accidentally leaves her alone in a room with a serial killer named Massacre Mike who has been convicted of murdering and eating 30 people.

We’re supposed to think “Woman in the House,” is funny, with its comical voiceovers from Bell and the subtle details, like how she has three books titled “You Too Can be an Artist,” “You Also Can Be An Artist” and “Anyone Can Be An Artist,” but it's hard to laugh when there’s a million-pound elephant in the room named A Child Was Murdered But It’s Supposed To Be A Little Funny Because The Circumstances Of Her Death Are Utterly Ridiculous.

I’m sorry, but satire that centers on a child’s death is not satire that can be done well, by even the most brilliant of minds.

And I get the intention. I do. It’s ridiculous that a forensic psychologist for the FBI would bring his daughter to work and then LEAVE HER ALONE with a convicted serial killer and cannibal. The name is supposed to be funny because of how unclever it is. Heck, the killer himself is supposed to be amusing because the whole minute he is on the screen between all 10 episodes, he has this ridiculous grin on his face. It’s ridiculous that Bell’s character’s husband leaves his daughter alone with Massacre Mike long enough for her to be killed and eaten. And…shouldn’t he have been wearing handcuffs?

It’s hard enough to make a satire out of death, but I think most audience members could have rolled with it if it would have been the death of basically anyone else. But… a child? Too far. This is evidenced by Bell’s believable portrayal of a grieving mother. In the scenes where Bell is ruminating on her daughter’s life and her loss, or talking to her daughter’s grave, her performance is moving. So moving, in fact, you forget you're supposed to think the whole thing is darkly amusing.

The discordance of these performances by Bell against the overall tone of the rest of the show makes the satire fail even more, because of how obvious the contrast is.

Most of the time, when people say a T.V. show or film doesn’t take itself too seriously, they mean it in a good way. In the case of “Woman in the House,” this is not so. In fact, the show could have definitely afforded to take itself more seriously.

I don’t want to spoil the ending, but let’s just say it falls in with a certain trend I’ve been seeing in thrillers lately.

Did you watch “The Woman in the House?” What did you think? Let me know in the comments!