Keeper review: Osgood Perkins and Tatiana Maslany deliver a scorching horror thats uniquely feminine
There's a certain madness to being a woman in a patriarchal society that rigorously chips aways at our boundaries daily. Keeper is about that madness, which creeps in slowly and steadily, making us doubt ourselves, our surroundings, and our own minds. "Gaslighting" has become a buzzword often misused. But when it comes to Keeper, filmmakers Osgood Perkins and Nick Lepard hone in on its true horror to spin a yarn that's gnarly, scary, and remarkable.
Perkins has been on a hot streak. After building a reputation with cryptic horror films like The Blackcoat's Daughter, I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives in The House, and Gretel & Hansel, Perkins delivered a shocking box office hit with 2024's Longlegs. The serial killer drama dug into folk horror and psychological thrills, bolstered by a riveting and bizarre turn from Nicolas Cage. Then, in early 2025, Perkins dropped The Monkey, which was a complete 180 from Longlegs. Adapted from a Stephen King short story, this was a splatterfest of gore and dark comedy, centered around an evil toy and the twin brothers traumatized by its theatrical slaughters.
With Keeper, Perkins keeps his fans and critics guessing by delivering a film that hints at Midsommar and Gothic horror. Starring Tatiana Maslany as a woman brought into a maddening scenario, it's a frightening film that's sure to scare and enthrall in equal measure.
What's Keeper about?
Keeper centers on a couple who are going on a weekend getaway to a rural cabin. Malcolm (Rossif Sutherland) and Liz (Tatiana Maslany) are headed to his family's vacation house upstate, which gives his girlfriend a mix of excitement and anxiety.
Liz is worried something is off about Malcolm. She suspects he is hiding something. Perhaps a wife and kids? The dialogue Lepard writes hints at this uncertainty, as it plays like two people always talking around something. There's an alertness but also a distance in every exchange. Sure, Malcolm seems besotted by Liz, pouring praise over how "special" she is and happily buying up her paintings because he loves her work. But early on, there's signs Malcolm doesn't really get Liz.
She favors bright colors, like red, in her wardrobe. Yet he gifts her a dowdy pearl-beaded cardigan in beige. To this, her friend snarks, "I don't think I've ever even heard you say 'beige'!" It's an early red flag (not a beige flag!) that Malcolm's idea of Liz doesn't align with who she really is. So, what will this mean for their planned weekend? Well, first off, there'll be some unexpected visitors: Malcolm's obnoxious cousin, Darin (Birkett Turton), and his party girl date, Minka (Eden Weiss). But then there's the mysterious caretaker, who leaves behind a strange cake and seems to be creeping about upstairs. Because what else could those sounds be?
As the weekend wears on, Liz becomes increasingly convinced that she is in danger. But placid Malcolm is full of placations. Liz fears she's either going mad or going to die. But is there any way to escape either fate?
Keeper weaves an emotionally intelligent and joltingly scary portrait of gaslighting.
Perkins has frequently centered his horror films on women. With Liz, he hones in on the horror of being a woman bullied by coercion. Liz is not a frail virgin or a wilting blossom. She is a snarky, smart, metropolitan artist. She has a keen sense of danger, quick to notice oddities that emerge around the cabin. But combating these virtues are Malcolm and Darin, who at every turn have an excuse or a coercive request. At first, it's subtle, expressed in pleas for politeness and civility. It's polite to let Darin crash their romantic dinner. It's expected that Liz try the chocolate cake left by the housekeeper or have a scotch with the intrusive cousin. That Liz wants none of it is besides the point.
Soon, however, she catches Malcolm in lies and finds strange things and even stranger visitors around the house. What it means might be impossible to predict, but these reveals are smartly plotted by Lepard, who also penned the shrewd and scary screenplay for Dangerous Animals, which premiered to critical praise earlier this year.
Both films explore how predatory men use a facade of decency and charm to lay a trap. Dangerous Animals takes that setup into a bonkers tale of shark-focused vengeance. Keeper goes more into folk horror territory. Like Dani in Midsommar, Liz is an educated and passionate woman taken to a rural place outside of her comfort zone, and forced to make sense of a culture that's coming at her fast and furious. But it's not a cult that surrounds Liz. Like a gothic horror straight out of Old Hollywood, she's lost and alone in a strange home with dark secrets. What she's witnessing is senseless, perhaps supernatural. Like so many horror heroines before her, these surreal circumstances push her to a precipice of madness, where she must reject or accept the world beyond her understanding — and suffer the consequences in any case. Yet how Perkins, Lepard, and Maslany conclude their tale is distinctly modern and exhilarating. And I wouldn't dare spoil it.
Keeper has a wicked sense of humor and ruthless tension.
Perkins knows, perhaps better than most of us, that we all go a little mad sometimes. With Keeper, he explores mind-bending isolation through Liz's emotional breakdown. Little moments where Liz is certain she's seen something horrid — like a decapitated head crying out from a bag of trash — hit as a terrific jump scare. You may well giggle at the grisly spectacle of such surprises, but Perkins plays with suspense smartly.
As the secret residents of the house come creeping from their hidden corners, some are more sly than others. One of the most frightening scenes in Keeper features a mysterious figure creeping up on Liz, stretching over her in a pose that is both eerie and enigmatic. But the release of a completed scare won't come. Perkins cuts away, the tension of this moment still festering in his audience's chest. This leaves our fear for Liz to linger, even into scenes of seeming peace, because we are seeing things she has not. And yet are we any closer to solving the mystery of this place and this man? No. Oh, the delicious hell of not knowing!
As Perkins made clear with The Monkey, horror can be a great place for raucous comedic release. The surprising gore of a weirdly grisly kill pushes us not only to excited surprise, but also to confront the absurdity and inevitability of death. One moment you're here, being a person doing whatever thing big or small. The next, you're a dead thing, a lump in a trash bag, a smear of blood on a polished floor. Thus, some of the deaths in Keeper are horrid, while others are humorous. The sound effects of the film are a rich mix of wet squelching, the kind of sound that might cause giggles or groans from an audience. And walking this fine line of twisted humor and turgid tension is Maslany, with all the skill of a tightrope walker.
Facing moments of vexation common and then deeply strange, she carries Keeper on her petite shoulders with the strength of a mammoth. Liz's wavering certainty flickers in Maslany's dark eyes. Her ferocity flashes with bared teeth, sometimes in a smile, sometimes as a threat. How her physicality shifts from breezy ease, to rigid tension, to something more feral, is electrifying and terrific visual storytelling. In The Monkey, she was a sensational supporting player for Perkins, as the twins' death-defying mom. Here, she is the heart of a wild and awesome beast of a film.
In the end, Keeper is a surreal and sensational thriller. Perkins walks us into a nightmare, baking tension and unhinged treats with sickening sound effects, spectacular creature design, and a smartly savage script. Maslany is our guide, trusted and terrific, radiating strength and vulnerability in a rapturous performance. In a year of killer horror like Sinners and 28 Years Later, Perkins has made his mark with this sly, sickening, and sophisticated thriller.
