Verity Review – ‘The twists don’t justify a lengthy runtime’

It takes a certain kind of mind to sit all day, imagining monstrous things, without becoming at least haunted by those dark visions — and perhaps consumed by them. At least, that’s the premise of this thriller, adapted from a Colleen Hoover bestseller. But while struggling young crime writer Lowen (Dakota Johnson) is plagued by lots of suspicion and worried about possible manipulation, Verity never quite goes for the throat.

Johnson’s reserve suits Lowen, who’s recently bereaved and further traumatised when she witnesses an accident right in front of her. Although she’s yet to make her mark as an author, she hesitates to step into another woman’s life and series when she’s asked to help ghostwrite for best-selling crime writer Verity Crawford (Anne Hathaway), who has recently suffered both a death in the family and a devastating car crash. But she reconsiders after a personal plea from Crawford’s husband Jeremy, played by Josh Hartnett in full gee-shucks mode.

The first sign that she might have made a mistake is that Jeremy holds back just what kind of state Verity is in. Lowen reaches their (idyllic) house before she learns that the famous author is entirely catatonic and that she’ll be working alone, from notes and fragments of ideas.

Naturally, it’s not that simple. Lowen is haunted by the possibility that Verity is still, secretly, up and about, and distressed by the author’s dark and twisted secret diary. But can she really trust Jeremy? Or her own perception? It’s all standard thriller stuff. Director Michael Showalter, who showed a sure hand with tone in the likes of The Big Sick, never quite feels as certain here; there’s a lot of meandering around the beautiful modernist house and not much actual revelation, for all the occasionally creepy music cues and sudden cuts.

All three leads are on decent form: Hartnett likeable with just a hint of darkness underneath; Johnson unsettled but keeping it together; and Hathaway, largely seen in online clips and flashback, impossibly beautiful and eerily unreadable.

The issues here are more structural. The revelations of the last act are largely unscary and deeply unsatisfying, so that the film limps to a halt rather than building to a finale. Maybe it’s trying to say something about looking too long and too deep into the abyss, but it mostly just mumbles about the importance of trust in relationships to no great effect instead.