Psychological thrillers have been hard to come by since the days of Brian DePalma, and too often they’ve been barely psychological or thrilling. VERITY isn’t a great addition to the beleaguered genre, but it has enough confidence to be a slow burn: a potent mix of psychological tension, attractive leads, and clever twists and turns. With slyly mysterious performances by Dakota Johnson, Josh Hartnett, and Anne Hathaway, it’s a surprisingly involving film despite having very little sex or violence.
The key is that all three main characters are enigmatic, keeping us guessing about their motivations and natures. Dakota Johnson has made a career of playing reined-in characters, often barely running the emotional gamut from A to D, but here that works in her favor. She plays Lowen Ashleigh, a published author struggling to boost sales for the mysteries she writes. Lowen is fashionable, gorgeous, and self-deprecating, but she keeps most of her cards close to her vest, even when confiding in her opinionated publishing agent (Ismael Cruz). She might be mischievous or even a little sinister, but maybe it’s just her resting face that continually looks unimpressed.
One day, she’s splattered with blood on a New York City street when a car runs over a biker. Jeremy Crawford (Hartnett), a fellow pedestrian, rescues her and offers his clean white shirt to replace her plasma-drenched blouse. They flirt a bit while exchanging clothes, then discover that the big meeting she was heading to at her publishing house is with him. (Only in rom-coms and thrillers do such incredible “meet cutes” exist.)
It turns out Jeremy represents Verity Crawford (Hathaway), the publishing house’s best-selling author, who now needs help from another mystery writer to finish her latest lurid page-turner. Verity has suffered a major car accident and is in a vegetative state at her sprawling home in the woods in upstate New York. Soon enough, Lowen moves in to finish the novel, and even more mysteries arise than those in the ghostwriting she’s been hired to do.
From there, several plot points unfold that you’d expect in such movies, including questions about Verity’s accident, a deceased child, a shut-off remaining child, and the burgeoning sexual attraction between Lowen and Jeremy. It’s played subtly, for the most part, so there’s more eeriness than dread. And you’re never sure whether any of the three main characters are being on the up and up, which keeps you guessing throughout the film about what’s really happening in this twisted triangle. Credit director Michael Showalter and screenwriter Nick Antosca, adapting Colleen Hoover’s bestseller, for keeping this pulp as droll and disciplined as possible. And when the big rug pulls do come, they are strong, surprising, and well executed.
To say more would be to lean into the revelations that drive the drama. Some of it feels unbelievable, even idiotic, but most of it has wit, charm, and an ever-present sense of something sinister that should keep audiences engaged. Credit especially to Hathaway, who does wonders in her supporting role, another feather in the cap of a banner year she’s having with THE ODYSSEY, MOTHER MARY, and THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2.
They don’t make films like VERITY much anymore, probably because it’s hard to make pulp that isn’t laughable or idiotic. This one, however, succeeds by lowering the heat and letting the kettle bubble for well over 70 minutes before it reaches a boil. Good for them. Good for us.
