(L-R) Maika Monroe as Polly Murphy and Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Caitlin Morales in 20th Century Studios' THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE. Photo by Suzanne Tenner. © 2025 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.
Courtney Howard // Film Critic
THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE
Rated R, 1 hour and 45 minutes
Directed by: Michelle Garza Cervera
Starring: Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Maika Monroe, Raúl Castillo, Mileiah Vega, Martin Starr
What began as a project for writer Amanda Silver’s film school thesis became an overnight sensation in versatile director Curtis Hanson’s hands. THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE was an instant hit upon its debut in 1992, igniting conversations around office water-coolers and setting a gold standard for fans when it came to the “Nanny From Hell” sub-genre. That said, the thriller that houses under-heralded performances by Annabella Sciorra, Rebecca De Mornay and a newly-discovered Julianne Moore also drew ire from female film critics at the time, who chastised its underlying commentary that mothers shouldn’t go back to work lest they have their lives destroyed by a sharp, vengeful beauty.
Decades later, and in a progressive era where privatized childcare is far more commonplace amongst the middle class and the nanny-turned-2nd-wife panic has subsided, the inevitable remake has arrived. Yet instead of diving deep into any sense of timeliness or timelessness on feminist matters, director Michelle Garza Cervera and writer Micah Bloomberg fail to make their case for the adaptation’s existence. Aggressively dour, drab and dull in narrative design and aesthetic appeal, this contemporary iteration is frustrating, forgettable fodder, whether or not you revere or revile the original.
Type A personality Caitlin Morales (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) is happy. She’s got a hunky husband, Miguel (Raúl Castillo), and an adorable tween daughter, Emma (Mileiah Vega), whom she loves. She drives a high-end SUV and owns a sleek, modern manse in the suburbs. And her job fighting for the underprivileged in tenants’ rights cases deeply fulfills her. But when baby girl #2 arrives prematurely, it throws Caitlin’s world into chaos. She suffers from severe anxiety and struggles to keep it all together as the perfect mom since her eldest daughter’s schedule is growing more demanding.
Enter Polly Murphy (Maika Monroe). The pair had met briefly at work before Caitlin went into labor. Based on that instant connection, Caitlin hires Polly to watch her kids while she tends to running the household in top form. However, Polly has her own nefarious ulterior motives, which involve weaseling into the family’s life and exacting revenge on Caitlin for a long-standing grudge (the reasons for which are revealed so late in the proceedings, we no longer care about the mystery fueling Polly’s vengeful malice).
Though the two HAND THAT ROCKS films share a title and basic bullet-point outline, they barely bear a resemblance to each other. For all its faults, the original is fun and quick on its feet, keeping us continually entertained and engaged. The subpar remake provokes us into either shutting it off early or falling asleep because it’s a laborious bore. There are no memorable sequences to speak of and it contains nothing on par with the original (like the nanny’s bonkers playground confrontation with the kid bully, or the nanny’s intense restroom meltdown). The re-imagining is without any genuine menace, laughs (unintentional or otherwise), or shock value, unless seeing kids eat sugar is a horror show for macrobiotic mommies.
In forgoing the silver screen for the small screen, the filmmakers forgot to get us to care about these characters before all the sabotaging, scheming and deadly hijinks ensue. The climax is set up with lazy foreshadowing. Character construction is overwhelmingly lackluster. It’s mind-blowing that Miguel is able to convince Caitlin that a fireworks incident inside the home isn’t grounds for Polly’s immediate dismissal, and audiences are forced to rewire their brains to continue buying anything else this film is selling. Salient points about gaslighting and abuse go unheard due to contrived circumstances. Pacing is equally problematic, as is the dearth of atmospheric pull.
Crafts work also serves to disappoint. Cinematographer Jo Willems’ work (which was a recent standout in THE LONG WALK) underwhelms, delivering an oppressively bland, washed-out color palette. Ariel Marx’s audibly repulsive score does the feature a total disservice, disrupting sequences with its abrasive, dissonant melodies. It’s one of the worst of the year, sounding like someone dumping silverware into a running garbage disposal.
Cervera’s direction of the actors to sporadically speak in monotone adds to our dislike, specifically during Polly’s pivotal unmasking by Caitlin’s bestie Stewart – played by an entirely miscast Martin Starr, who’s perplexingly catatonic through every scene he’s in. Winstead and Monroe have proven more than capable at commanding cerebral, feminine-psychosis-themed films previously (like Winstead in SMASHED and Monroe in WATCHER). Yet this stilted material doesn’t afford their honed skillsets any moments of grace. There’s very little motoring the characters except what’s on the surface, valuing puddle deep superficiality rather than redemptive internality.
What should’ve been a match made in heaven for cinephiles – with the director of HUESERA: THE BONE WOMAN and the writer of SANCTUARY uniting to gift two terrific actresses with a remake befitting of their talents – has turned into a hellish nightmare for us to endure. With the superior original also available on the same streaming service, there is no need to press play on this slop.
Grade: ½ a star out of 5
THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE debuts on Hulu on October 22.
