Victorian Psycho

by Hope Madden

A Victorian era governess loses it, and terrible things happen. That’s the long and short of Victorian Psycho. But don’t expect the spectral maddening of 1961’s masterpiece The Innocents. Winnifred Notty (Maika Monroe) was mad the moment she took the position.

I enjoyed Virginia Feito’s slight but delightfully violent 2025 novel. It read very much like a movie, so when I learned that Feito herself was adapting the novel for the screen, I was pleased.

With Sanctuary’s Zachary Wigon to direct and Monroe as lead, things looked promising.

The supporting cast impresses, particularly Ruth Wilson and Jason Isaacs as Winifred’s employers. But problems creep in almost from the start.

Monroe seems slightly lost. Her voiceover is sometimes wonderfully dry, but her performance on the whole relies on a maniacal facial expression and stiff gait.

But Winnifred Notty is an unhinged lunatic, and I say that with great admiration. Within moments of arriving at Ensor House, body parts are falling out of luggage and staff members turn up missing. The film, almost immediately, is a frenzy of blood and viscera.

There’s basically nowhere to go.

Feito trims out Winifred’s backstory, nearly eliminates the feminist underpinnings of the book, gives just a nod to its classist upbraiding, and paints every character with the broadest possible brush.

What remains is a frenetic bloodbath, filmed with bodymounts and Dutch tilts to amplify the mania afoot. It’s fun. It’s full of energy. It amounts to nothing.

You don’t root for anybody. You don’t root against anybody. And because one pivotal character is drearily underdeveloped, the final shot holds none of the wicked satisfaction of the novel.

That’s not to say it’s a bad film, just that it’s a bloody comedy without much bite.