In her fifth film appearance for 2026, Anne Hathaway leads a trio of troubled souls in Verity. Struggling writer Lowen Ashleigh (Dakota Johnson) is hired to finish the latest book of celebrated author Verity Crawford (Hathaway). She learns that Verity has been rendered catatonic from a car crash, but that is being kept quiet.
Ashleigh moves into the Crawford home in Vermont at the invitation of Verity’s husband, Jeremy (Josh Hartnett). She is meant to review the notes Verity had completed before the accident. In the course of her research Ashleigh stumbles across a hidden file that contains an autobiography from Verity. It is a confession of dark thoughts and deadly deeds. Both of these writers trade in primal evil in their work, like Stephen King plumbing the depths of human wickedness and sociopathy. They do not create “good guys.” However, this cold splash of reality is appalling to Ashleigh. Rather than leave the home, as anyone else would do, she begins to sympathize with Jeremy, and eventually there is a spark between them. Verity is alive, but unresponsive, cared for full time by her nurse in a distant room in the spacious house. There are neck-breaking twists and turns in the plot, and we are left unsure who to believe. There are protagonists and antagonists, but who is which?
The written page figures prominently. Director Michael Showalter stretches the interpretation of “show, don’t tell” to include images of text in bold, italic, and highlighted so we don’t miss the important points. He also indulges in well-timed jump scares, which is fun, but further muddies the genre identity of the film. The gimmick of an unreliable narrator is frustrating, but Verity makes it all the more so because at least one of the POVs presented is likely the truth. If it’s catatonic Verity, then Ashleigh is a ghoul. If it’s the autobiography, then Verity is a psychopath.
The film is based on the bestselling novel by Colleen Hoover. The book straddles an uneasy compromise between romance and thriller. The film adaptation takes the act of reading this guilty pleasure out of the confines of the solitary indulgence and splashes it across a screen shared with strangers. It’s a little creepy, like watching porn with someone you don’t know.
” … struggling writer Ashleigh is hired to finish the latest book of celebrated author Verity Crawford …”
Lead performances outshine the script considerably. Even though Hathaway is underutilized, she sparkles, making the most of the screen time she gets, but this film is beneath her. Hartnett solidly delivers the soft-spoken, earnest Jeremy with just the slightest hint of sinister intent. The bulk of the film rests on Johnson, who delivers her usual understated woman who seems always quietly surprised at the world around her. It works well here, as it did in the 2025 film The Materialists.
The steamy sex scenes here feel trite. Everyone who can use a mouse has seen online erotica, so simulated sex is just cheesy at this point. It is ridiculous when we see people getting busy with their clothes on, or under sheets, or in awkward positions that obscure the bits in question, or women lounging in bed with a bra on. It is time to go back to the classic blurry fade out and then cut to the couple in the afterglow. We know what they’re doing, and it’s not titillating when it’s so goofy. The Crawford home where most of this film is set is stunning. There are beautiful wooden beams and soaring windows over a forested property. It’s posh, but cozy, like an upscale ski lodge. It is the soul of classy opulence. Seeing the house on screen is a treat.
Verity will have a built-in audience that will give it a strong opening. However, once all the fans of the Hoover novel have seen it, it will fade into obscurity, despite the strong performances. It’s a a romance with no charm, and a thriller with no bite (except a headboard, which is silly).
"…a romance with no charm, and a thriller with no bite"
