Domestic Thrillers Aren’t Just a Trend. They’re the Defining Metaphor of Our Time

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She appears to have it all: a beautiful, often Nicole Kidman-esque, look, a fulfilling career in a creative field or charity work, and a handsome, successful husband. They usually have a couple of adorable children and live in a stylish home – whether it’s in a trendy neighborhood, a luxurious beach house, or a city apartment – always featuring a stunning kitchen island.

Everything falls apart. A woman is attacked, a husband is unfaithful, a child goes missing, and a mysterious stranger appears. Then, someone is killed, shattering what seemed like a perfect life – or exposing the darkness that was always there.

The current popularity of domestic thrillers—stories centered on the lives and fears of women—has become a dominant force in entertainment. Initially, the surge in these shows and movies seemed like simple imitation—the success of Big Little Lies led to many similar projects. However, the continued popularity and enthusiastic reception suggest something deeper is at play. Stories about women’s anxieties surrounding control and violence, especially within the home, have always resonated. And in recent years, American society has provided plenty of new reasons for these fears to surface.

Domestic thrillers have evolved beyond simply exploring fears about gender roles. They now tap into a deeper sense of unease, portraying threats that come from within our closest circles – spouses, neighbors, even caregivers – those we expect to be safe. These stories of fractured communities and hidden dangers resonate with a society experiencing increasing polarization, a phenomenon journalist Jeff Sharlet describes as a “slow civil war.” Increasingly, the domestic thriller has become a powerful representation of the anxieties of our era.

HBO’s Big Little Lies practically invented the current wave of twisty, suspenseful dramas about secrets and lies within families. Based on the novel by Liane Moriarty, the show initially hooked viewers with its glamorous setting, dramatic plot turns, and a stellar cast including Nicole Kidman, Alexander Skarsgård, Reese Witherspoon, Laura Dern, Zoë Kravitz, and Shailene Woodley. But it went deeper than just entertainment, offering a smart look at how abuse affects multiple generations and celebrating the power of women supporting each other. Created by David E. Kelley and directed by the late Jean-Marc Vallée (Wild), Big Little Lies debuted in 2017, shortly after Donald Trump’s inauguration. Unlike another new show at the time, The Handmaid’s Tale, which directly addressed sexism, Big Little Lies offered a more hopeful and enjoyable take on feminist themes.

While often called a recent invention, the domestic thriller – also known as domestic suspense or noir – actually has a long history. These psychological thrillers typically take place in homes or neighborhoods, explore family and community bonds, and often focus on female characters. Works like Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, with its mysterious narrator and hidden character, can even be seen as early examples, and some trace the genre back to the ancient play Medea. The format became popular in the mid-20th century with authors like Daphne du Maurier and films like Gaslight, reflecting the changing roles of women who had gained independence during World War II but then found themselves confined by suburban life. As crime writer Sarah Weinman points out, these stories are frightening because they tap into deep-seated anxieties about everyday life and social change – anxieties that, despite progress, haven’t disappeared.

Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique, which resonated with mostly white, middle-class women, helped spark the feminist movement of the 1970s by highlighting issues of gender inequality. Decades later, Gillian Flynn’s 2012 novel Gone Girl captured a more nuanced side of power dynamics in relationships. A memorable outburst from a character about women feeling pressured to act a certain way to gain a man’s approval became incredibly popular online because so many readers understood the feeling.

Domestic thrillers are still incredibly popular, even after thirteen years. The genre has evolved, appearing in sophisticated series like “Sharp Objects” and Alfonso Cuarón’s “Disclaimer.” But it’s also found success in more accessible, though sometimes flawed, projects like the Netflix series “Behind Her Eyes” and the novels of Colleen Hoover, several of which are being adapted into films. Freida McFadden, author of “The Housemaid,” accounted for around 3% of all adult fiction book sales in the U.S. last year, and the film adaptation has already earned over $250 million, potentially making it the biggest movie of 2025 for adult women. Even stories exploring traditionally female-centered fears from a male perspective are gaining traction, like the hit Netflix series “Adolescence,” which centers on a family torn apart by a son’s crime and can easily be categorized as a domestic thriller.

The TV series Big Little Lies cleverly incorporated the theme of wealth inequality into the suspenseful drama of suburban life. Similar to classic stories like Jane Eyre, where a governess falls for her wealthy employer, the character played by Shailene Woodley is a financially struggling newcomer to a privileged community. However, instead of finding romance, she discovers that one of the wealthy residents is her son’s attacker, leading to his downfall. In a time when many people are critical of the rich, shows like this let viewers enjoy glimpses of luxurious lifestyles while also experiencing, either directly or from a safe distance, the appeal and anxieties surrounding class conflict.

A common plot device is emerging in thrillers: a woman with limited resources disrupts a wealthy family. We saw this last year in Prime Video’s The Girlfriend, where Olivia Cooke played a determined woman from a working-class background clashing with her boyfriend’s unstable mother. Now, Peacock’s All Her Fault follows a similar pattern, with a nanny (Sophia Lillis) from a difficult background vanishing with the child of a wealthy family. Although both she and the boy’s mother (Sarah Snook) are initially suspected, the father (Jake Lacy, known for playing similar characters in Apples Never Fall and The White Lotus) is ultimately revealed as the one truly at fault.

Many popular domestic thrillers rely on easy-to-understand, but often simplistic, ideas about what worries women – like distrust of the wealthy, unchecked male privilege, the challenges of motherhood, and fears about getting older or experiencing the loss of a child. However, these stories also tap into broader concerns about who belongs in a community – whether that community is a family, a neighborhood, or a country – something the best thrillers explore with more depth and skill. For example, Sharp Objects uses a murder investigation to reveal the deep-seated problems within a Missouri town that still romanticizes the Confederacy, suggesting a historical curse where local villains are seen as heroes.

I feel like a constant sense of unease has taken over everyday life here. It’s strange, but it reminds me of the plots of those suspenseful thrillers. I find myself questioning everyone – even friendly faces at the grocery store – wondering if they share my values or will act against my interests. I even worry about the people meant to protect us, hoping they truly have our best interests at heart. It feels like we’re always sizing each other up, trying to figure out who’s on our side and who might want to cause us harm. Is it those trying to get ahead, or those already privileged? It doesn’t surprise me that so many recent thrillers play with shifting perspectives; it feels like nothing is certain anymore, and everything depends on how you look at it. We just don’t seem to agree on basic facts these days, so everyone sees things differently.

Despite the popularity of domestic thrillers potentially slowing down, the genre is expected to remain strong, particularly with stories focused on affluent white women facing danger. A sequel to Housemaid is in development, and two films based on books by author Colleen Hoover are on the way. Her latest thriller, Woman Down, is just one of many similar books planned for release in 2026. On television, viewers can look forward to several new series including Imperfect Women starring Elisabeth Moss and Kerry Washington, Vanished with Kaley Cuoco, the true-crime drama Unspeakable: The Murder of JonBenet Ramsey featuring Melissa McCarthy, a second season of The Last Thing He Told Me, and a third season of Lies.

However, the genre is starting to change. Many new domestic thrillers seem to playfully acknowledge how predictable their storylines can be. Paul Feig, the director of films like A Simple Favor and its upcoming sequel, brought this same witty approach to his movie Housemaid. At the screening I attended, the audience laughed loudly at the over-the-top conflict between Sydney Sweeney’s character, a former convict working as a maid, and Amanda Seyfried’s character, a troubled housewife.

Netflix’s popular series, The Hunting Wives, doesn’t hide its playful, edgy tone. The show centers around a woman who moves to Texas from a more liberal state and quickly becomes part of a glamorous group of women who are attracted to each other, and possibly dangerous. Like other suspenseful dramas about exclusive communities, it explores the tension between those on the inside and those who aren’t, and it features plenty of conflict—with men often portrayed negatively. However, similar to much of the political climate during and after the Trump presidency, the show suggests that history often rhymes—repeating itself as both something serious and something almost comical, yet still deeply troubling.

It’s easy to see this trend of making fun of ourselves as simply admitting defeat – a way to laugh instead of give in to negativity. However, I like to think of these stories as a form of quiet rebellion. While joking about issues like sexism, unfair advantages, political divides, and double standards isn’t the same as taking action, it could be a first step toward reclaiming a hopeful outlook. In the face of fear, joy is a surprisingly powerful tool.

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2026-01-30 15:07