Some Other Woman is a psychological thriller that begins with promise—a tropical escape unraveling into paranoia, identity confusion, and emotional unease—but ultimately drowns under the weight of its own murky resolution. Directed by Joel David Moore and starring Amanda Crew, Tom Felton, and Ashley Greene, the film has the bones of a gripping meditation on identity and loss, yet falters when its central mystery turns ambiguous rather than elusive.
Amanda Crew portrays Eve Carver, who relocates with her husband Peter (Tom Felton) to a tropical paradise due to his work. What was supposed to be a brief change of scenery extends into years, during which Eve’s hopes of starting a family dissolve. When she begins seeing Renata (Ashley Greene), a stranger who eerily mirrors her own life, bit by bit’s sense of reality unravels. Its premise—a woman’s sense of self slipping into that of another—is taut with psychological dread and visual symbolism. Unfortunately, the sequel of tension and paranoia the film attempts never solidifies into a narrative that holds together.
Crew imbues Eve with a palpable fragility—her longing for motherhood, her isolation, and the disorientation she experiences are credible and emotionally resonant. Tom Felton brings a smooth but alarming cool to the role of Peter, whose explanations of everyday oddities—swapped objects, memories at odds—only heighten the unsettling counterpoint between perception and denial. Ashley Greene’s Renata arrives like a shadow, both magnetic and ominous; her presence keeps the viewer on edge. The actors elevate the material, grounding it even when the story drifts.
Visually, the film succeeds in juxtaposing dreamy tropics with the dread beneath their surface. Sublime landscapes and warm light overlay the narrative’s growing claustrophobia, creating a haunting contrast. Moments such as Eve’s déjà vu over personal belongings and her increasing isolation in sunlit open spaces are troublingly intimate. The film captures suspense in subtle mismatches—a reflection off water, a vacant gaze, a familiarity gone wrong.
Yet those strengths clash with a script that disassembles logic in favor of ambiguity. By the third act, the viewer is adrift: are we witnessing mental collapse, supernatural invasion, or some distorted marriage plot? And what exactly is real? While ambiguity can be thematically powerful, here it hovers without payoff. Critics noted that the execution leans into cliché—especially in its treatment of women’s emotional breakdown tied to reproductive trauma and marital dissolution. Thematic potential slips into stereotype.
The fragmentation extends to pacing. Tension builds through the first half, but the latter segments feel disjointed. Climactic scenes—a confrontation, a watery struggle, a voiceover finale—feel abrupt and cryptic. More exposition or grounding might have helped; instead, the emotional arc remains incomplete. The film doles out answers like breadcrumbs, but the last crumbs vanish into shadows. As one reviewer put it, viewers are often left wondering, “What the hell?”
Still, Some Other Woman offers value in its eerie tone and willingness to explore identity’s erosion. It’s at its best when Eve is alone—when the line between self and other is blurred but still fragile. Scenes of her wandering beaches at dusk, or confronting Renata face-to-face, crackle with raw emotion. There’s a raw, haunting honesty in those moments that the film occasionally captures.
Ultimately, Some Other Woman may intrigue fans of surreal thrillers—a puzzling story, an enveloping visual mood, performances that tether the narrative—but it is also a caution of what happens when mystery outweighs clarity. It shows how easily psychological intrigue can become narrative fog.
The film succeeds in feeling unlike a typical thriller, but in doing so, it loses its way. If you’re in search of atmosphere and emotional fragmentation, there’s something here. But if you expect a story that unravels—and then ties itself back together—you may be left stranded on its shoreline. Some Other Woman swims confidently into uncertainty but doesn’t quite reach safe harbor.
