The Residence: Season 1

I’m honestly not even sure how we ended up watching The Residence. I think there was somehow a lull in our TV schedule and it slipped in as a planned background watch. The problem, as I’ve stated many times, is that I’m bad at not watching whatever is in front of me. No matter the subject matter or quality. This one definitely tested my patience at times and brought me to the brink of boredom and distraction on a pretty regular basis. I found myself double-screening it and wondering if somehow I’d started the same episode again by mistake. It starts strong — and Uzo Aduba is a compelling actor and star — but over time it becomes a bloated and confused Rashomon of a mystery that goes absolutely nowhere and becomes less and less funny as it progresses.

I’m sure at this point that almost everyone has seen Knives Out. And even its sequel / run-it-back, Glass Onion. Both of which were basically just Clue with bigger budgets and less John Landis dad / boob jokes. Well, if you’ve seen those films, you pretty much get the idea here. (In fact, episode three is weirdly entitled “Knives Out.”) There’s a murder in the White House, everyone and anyone who might be a suspect is locked in and a quirky detective is brought in to use her quirky quirkiness to quirk them into confessing. The detective in question is Cordelia Cupp (Aduba), who is a “renowned” detective. Yes, because your average person knows the name of any detective. Eye-roll. Anyway, she’s as famous and renowned as a detective can be. I wonder if she knows Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc? Like is there a club for famous sleuths where they all hang out with Sherlock Holmes’ ghost and Nancy Drew? In a twist, the butler is the victim instead of the main suspect. Well, the Chief Usher, A. B. Wynter (Giancarlo Esposito), who is essentially the head butler. Trapped in the now closed-off White House is a group of Australians, there for a state dinner, the first family and the White House staff. All of whom seemingly have a reason or motive to murder A.B. Even the actual Kylie Minogue and a fake Hugh Jackman, who are there because they’re from Australia, I guess.

The White House, as portrayed in this show, is the least White House White House since Veep. But waaay less realistic. Yes, this is a sitcom in the way other sitcoms that happen in political surroundings — Benson, Spin City, Mr. Mayor — are sitcoms. All the people in charge are idiots, buffoons or fools of one stripe or another and the way politics and the daily life of the mayor, governor or president runs is about as realistic as a sitcom needs to be. Which is to say not very. But this show isn’t meant to be The West Wing — which is also a fairytale of its own kind — so we just kind of roll with it. And when the Chief Usher ends up murdered upstairs in the White House during a state dinner and somehow this famous detective just happens to be around and available and walks in and asks to sequester the every occupant therein, staff and visitors — including foreign dignitaries and Hugh Jackman — and everyone is like… okay, cool? I mean they don’t think it’s cool, but it just happens. Which seems not at all likely outside of a contorted sitcom.

And then the show is spent watching Cordelia Cup question everyone with a gripe against Wynter. Turns out Giancarlo Esposito — who seems to be in every single show in 2024 / 2025 — could be an uptight prig. It was kind of his thing. So, all the wacky and angry people who populate the White House are on the suspect list. And each one tells their story of where they were, what they were doing and what they saw earlier that night when the murder took place. My issue is, the criss-crossing stories were both confusing and boring. And, again, everyone is kind of an idiot. Or drunk. No, seriously, there’s lots of drinking, which calls into question everyone’s stories. So we have convoluted meanderings and unreliable narrators galore. And I’m unsure we, as the viewers, are supposed to follow all their babbling to try to figure out who the murderer is along with Cordelia. Thing is, it’s clumsily put together. The good version of this is a constant revelation, one reveal connecting to another you’ve clocked until the murderer is unmasked and all the clues come together in your head to make sense. This one you literally have to figure out and understand that someone somehow in the middle of a house full of people plastered over an entire doorway, repainted the wall to match the others and hung a painting maybe in a 230 year-old house with really tall ceilings in a couple hours. I’m not kidding. Now how in the world would we guess that happened? And where did they get drywall, matching paint and the skill it takes to do something like that? Let alone the ladders, nails and the wherewithal to do it alone? It’s like looking at a jigsaw puzzle with two spaces left that are shaped like puzzle pieces and someone grabs a jigsaw, cuts the remaining space into a square, jams in the remaining pieces and is like, “Duh.”

My point is, the mystery in this mystery is completely flawed and stupid. So if we’re not watching it for political intrigue or a laugh-out-loud comedy or a mystery that is a logical mystery then why are we watching it? Is it to watch Ken Marino be Ken Marino? I mean, sure, that’s generally fun, but if you want that then watch Party Down. Mel Rodriguez? Also a good hang, usually, but watch his turn in Better Call Saul. Maybe you want to see the return of our Gen-X skater-turned-actor god, Jason Lee, or enjoy a foul-mouthed, drunken Jane Curtin. Or perhaps you’re a big Balki Bartokomous guy or thought Al Franken got a raw deal. Whatever the case, if you’re tuning in hoping that the clear comedy mystery heritage of this thing will see you through, you’re really going to have to stretch to stay engaged over the eight hours (including a 1.5-hour finale) of this thing. It is overly long, repetitive and ultimately not terribly funny or satisfying. Sure, there are a few funny lines here and there and a couple funny scenes, but watching straight-man Cordelia interview the few same hysterics over and over again until they admit something that we weren’t privy to and care very little about, gets tiresome and old real quick. I think, had they kept each episode to a half hour, made the mystery way more breezy — cutting out the fourth and fifth perspective of the same scene — they could have had something. But, as it stands, The Residence just feels like a drab retirement community.