I’ll watch Nicole Kidman in anything. I applaud whenever her AMC ad comes on in the theater. In fact, when I watched Blink Twice, it was the best part of my viewing experience. And I will always-always-always watch Nicole Kidman play an elite woman dripping with cash who has an ambiguous accent and an unhinged family. Thankfully for me, that’s all she seems to be playing these days. And I eat it up every time.
While I’ve mourned and lamented the fact that we’re probably never getting another season of Big Little Lies, Kidman has not been slacking when it comes to prestige drama. She starred in Nine Perfect Strangers, The Undoing, and Expats, playing what TV critics call “the sad wife.” While some call it repetitive, I call it iconic. And the latest entry in this genre is Netflix The Perfect Couple. Messy, murderous, and mysterious, the miniseries is currently going viral for its addictive plot and the TikTok video of a dancey “intro” (opening credits) where the entire cast dances on the beach.
And, as you can probably tell from the dancey intro, it’s a new take on the murder mystery for one key reason: the showrunners wanted it to be fun. It’s based on a beach read, after all, so it’s aiming for a soapy, sundrenched take on the murder mystery. And the result is something between The White Lotus and The Summer I Turned Pretty. I’m not kidding. So, not prestige television but an entertaining watch. Netflix The Perfect Couple is overrated, but perhaps because it’s misunderstood.
What’s the plot of The Perfect Couple?
In the ever-expanding pantheon of rich-people-behaving-badly content, Netflix The Perfect Couple is the latest entry that attempts to marry Big Little Lies’ glamor-drenched trauma with the sardonic bite of Succession. The result? An unpolished but highly-addictive six-hour binge that’ll make you question everything while also making you wish you live in Nantucket — with friends who wouldn’t murder you.
Let’s start with the premise: It’s wedding season in Nantucket, and the obscenely wealthy Winbury family is about to welcome a new member into their dysfunctional inner circle. Bride-to-be Amelia — played with electric likability and nuance by Eve Hewson (Bad Sisters, Flora and Son) — is not from the world of money like the Winburys — and she’s paying for it. In the opening scene, she walks through the house in boxer shorts only to release a ladybug outside. Of course, the matriarch of the house, Greer (Kidman), does not like that.
From snide digs about Amelia’s carb consumption to endless nitpicking about her sartorial choices, Greer’s doubts about the couple are documented plenty. Husband-to-be, Benji, is so devoted to Amelia that he stands up to his domineering mother to defend Amelia — brave for any rich momma’s boy. But his deference to Greer feels justified. Everyone in the family defers to her. She sets a high bar, especially considering her own relationship with Tag (Liev Schreiber), which has been touted as the perfect relationship by everyone — including book publishers. As a bestselling author, Greer’s brand is her everything. And when the maid of honor’s dead body washes up on the shore the morning of the wedding, the ideal world Greer created begins to crumble.
Kidman — fresh off her tour de force role of wig-wearing Grace Fraser in The Undoing — brings her A-game to B-grade material. Her Greer is a master class in barely concealed contempt, with every arched eyebrow screaming, “I’m Nicole Kidman; what am I doing here?” It’s a sentiment the audience might share. But damn if it isn’t fun to watch.
Amelia’s wide-eyed innocence and desire to belong in this family turns into suspicion and resentment as she tries to uncover which of her potential in-laws killed her best friend, Merritt (Meghann Fahy). Since Fahy wowed in The White Lotus Season 2, campy murder mysteries are not new to her. Her turn as seemingly shallow Merritt with secrets of her own is imbued with depth that keeps the audience guessing to the very end.
And, because the women are the most compelling characters in this cast, Dakota Fanning rounds out the mother ensemble as Abby, the heavily pregnant, vanity-obsessed wife of the eldest Winbury son. She’s a cold queen bee, who apparently has more money than Amelia and Merritt, but still trying to win over Greer like the rest of the world.
When the police descend on the Winbury estate on the day of the would-be wedding to dig up the family’s secrets, it seems everyone has something to hide. Classic rich family problems: the dishonest husband cheating on his wife, the obnoxious and entitled eldest son Thomas (Kendall Roy if he had frat energy), the non-white family friend who is, of course, the first suspect. And while the show’s structure isn’t necessarily innovative, it works.
We bounce between police interviews and flashbacks, feeling half-invested in each subplot until the suspense finally finally kicks into gear — mostly because Nicole Kidman dominates the screen in the final few episodes.
But here’s the kicker: despite its middling plot and lackluster character development, The Perfect Couple is oddly… entertaining? The show’s aware that it’s not reinventing the wheel; it’s just hoping you’re too dazzled by the star power to notice the lack of substance.
SPOILER ALERT: This article contains spoilers for Elin Hilderbrand’s book The Perfect Couple and all six episodes of Netflix The Perfect Couple.
How does the book The Perfect Couple end?
Fans have noticed that the TV version of The Perfect Couple is very different from the book. While this is true for many adaptations, most scripts will keep the basic plot points. But in this case, director Susanne Bie and creator Jenna Lamia were intentional about the kind of changes they wanted to see and the tone they wanted to strike. The key words: murder, but make it fun.
Elin Hilderbrand’s novel The Perfect Couple is a murder mystery without the murder. The book ends with a smart, but somewhat underwhelming, revelation: Merritt’s death was an accident.
In the book, Thomas’ wife Abby (Fanning) is the culprit (kind of) but she didn’t mean to drug Merritt. Instead, she puts one of Greer’s sleeping pills into a drink meant for the family’s eccentric, fab foreign friend, who is, in both versions, having an affair with Thomas, her husband. Abby’s intentions were simpler: she just wanted her husband to come to bed, rather than sneaking off to sleep with another woman.
But the drink is accidentally passed to Merritt. She drinks it and heads out on a late night canoe ride with Tag. She then goes into the water to retrieve the ring he gave her (in the series it’s a bracelet). The sleeping pills go into effect as she’s in the water, causing her to drown.
While this makes for a subversion of expectations, it doesn’t make for very exciting TV. Hence the changes. “I realized that it may be more satisfying for the audience to find out that there was a murderer who fully intended to murder the person they murdered,” creator Jenna Lamia told Indie Wire. “We decided that the killer had intended to kill the person she kills, and that she had a very clear motive for doing so, and it wasn’t just jealousy. So [we] added the money plot.”
Who’s the killer in The Perfect Couple ending?
In the series, Abby is still the killer, but this time it’s committed on purpose. Per Lamia’s directives, the motive needed to be fleshed out. For Abby, it was money.
A central tension that drives Merritt’s death is her affair with Tag. As we discover later, Merritt is pregnant with Tag’s baby. When wedding party members learn her secret, many have motive to murder Merritt. The main reason: the family trust fund. The Winbury family trust has a rule that only bestows the money to the boys upon the 18th birthday of the youngest son. If Merritt were to have a baby, the trust would get reset for another 18 years.
With her own baby on the way, Abby’s been pressuring Thomas to move them into a bigger house. She can’t wait another 18 years to finance the lifestyle she expects from being a Winbury — certainly not with Thomas’s risky investments and flagrant affairs. So she kills Merritt.
However, the trust fund motive could not appear in the novel because Will Winbury — the brother on the cusp of his 18th birthday — doesn’t even exist. In the book, there are only two Winbury boys: Benji and Thomas. The addition of Will adds conflict and is causes the show’s ending to really ramp up.
Other character changes range from small to significant. A big one is names. Eve Hewson’s Amelia Sacks in the show, is named Celeste Otis in the books. I like to think they wanted to cast French actress Isabelle Adjani so much that they changed the family friend character from a Londonite named Featherleigh Dale (which, respectfully, is a very Colleen Hoover name) to the aloof French family friend named Isabel Nallet. Also altered: Gosia, the Winbury’s housekeeper, who is named Elida in the book; and family friend Shooter Dival is Shooter Uxley in the book.
The detective in the novel is also quite different. First of all, the fictional version is male. And he tries to keep the peace with the Winburys, hoping to coax cooperation out of them through kindness. In the show, Donna Lynne Champlin plays a version of the detective that has no sympathy for the Winburys and blatantly calls out their privilege. Her relatable and comedic quips serve as a breath of fresh air when you get sick of the Winbury’s entitlement.
The miniseries positions itself as a scathing critique of wealth and privilege, but it often feels like a lifestyle porn video that occasionally realizes it needs a plot. The camera lovingly caresses every inch of the Winbury estate as if it’s auditioning for an Architectural Digest tour. But this light, beachy vibe is intentional. Athough it’s a murder mystery, Lamia wanted the tone to be capricious and fun.
The most talked-about way she achieved her goal? The opening credits dance scene. One second you’re immersed in the narrative’s drama… the next you’re watching the cast doing a choreographed, flash-mob dance sequence.
“You see that it’s directed by Susanne Bier, who did “The Undoing” and “The Night Manager” so incredibly well. So you’re expecting a bit of a self-serious show,” sais Lamua. “But I think when you get to the credits and everyone’s dancing to Meghan Trainor, you have to think, ‘Well, wait a minute. I think this might be a fun ride.’”
And she’s right — the series might not be particularly good in the traditional sense. But in the landscape of peak TV — where every show’s striving to be the next big thing — there’s something refreshing about a show that’s content to be a glossy, star-studded mess.
By the time you reach the finale, you’ll have developed a love-hate relationship with every character, a newfound appreciation for prenuptial agreements, and no desire to ever visit Nantucket. The resolution — when it comes — is both satisfying and eyeroll-inducing — much like the entire series itself.
