Our House — The Home That Was Never Yours (And the Script That Was Never Any Good)

Our House: full review

You come home after a soul-crushing day, unlock the door, and find strangers settling into your living room like it’s IKEA’s Black Friday. Your husband’s vanished, your phone has no signal, and the neighbor’s staring at you like you’re the village lunatic. Welcome to Our House, the series that promised to be Britain’s Gone Girl but instead became a step-by-step guide on how to butcher a domestic thriller in six easy episodes. Simon Ashdown, a creator with more soap opera experience than suspense (his CV boasts EastEnders and Holby City), dives headfirst into psychological mystery without checking if the pool’s got water. Spoiler: it doesn’t. The pool’s bone-dry, and the fall hurts even more when you realize Red Planet Pictures’ budget went to paying actors to repeat the same “wide-eyed disbelief” scene for three straight hours.

The first episode hooks you, I’ll give it that. There’s something inherently terrifying about losing your home, your security, your identity. Fi Lawson (Tuppence Middleton) is an architect with a seemingly perfect life—until one day, bam, her house is no longer hers and her husband, Bram (Martin Compston), has vanished like a ghost with a hangover. The premise is so strong it aches to see Ashdown squander it on a script that moves slower than a snail with arthritis. Every revelation lands with the force of a sigh, every twist feels lifted from a Midsomer Murders episode where the killer is always the gardener. And the worst part? Deep down, you know the real culprit isn’t the gardener. It’s the screenwriter, who seems to have confused “mystery” with “letting the actors improvise while he sips tea.”

The problem isn’t a lack of ideas—it’s the execution. Our House has all the ingredients of a decent psychological thriller: a house with secrets, a couple with unresolved tensions, a crime no one wants to solve. But Ashdown insists on stretching every scene like he’s getting paid by the minute. There’s a moment in the second episode where Fi and her neighbor (Weruche Opia, the only one who seems to grasp this isn’t Downton Abbey) debate calling the police for five minutes. Five. Real-time. Minutes. This isn’t tension—it’s sadism. Not the elegant kind à la Hitchcock, but the kind where your uncle recounts, for the third time, how he dropped his phone in the toilet. The series wallows in its own sluggishness, as if it believes the audience will forget the real mystery isn’t who stole the house, but why anyone paid to watch this.

And then there’s the ending. Or, more accurately, the endings. Because Our House suffers from that quintessentially British affliction of not knowing when to quit. After six episodes of filler, Ashdown suddenly remembers he needs to wrap things up and does so with the grace of an elephant in a china shop. I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say the final act is so predictable even the family dog could’ve seen it coming. There’s a twist involving a secondary character who materializes out of thin air, as if the screenwriter muttered, “Shit, we forgot to explain this. Let’s make it the cousin from India.” And just like that, with a deus ex machina more forced than a smile at a funeral, Our House takes its leave, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Not the kind from strong coffee, but the kind from aspirin after a night of cheap booze.

Direction and Mise-en-Scène: The Art of Making the Boring Look Even Boringer

Simon Ashdown didn’t just write Our House—he directed several episodes, and it shows. Not because there’s a recognizable visual style, but because the direction feels as lost as Fi in her own home. The mise-en-scène is functional, like an IKEA bookshelf: it serves its purpose, but it won’t make your heart race. The shots are competent, the framing is safe, and the editing is so invisible you might forget you’re watching a series if the dialogue didn’t keep reminding you. There’s a moment in the third episode where Fi uncovers a crucial clue in the basement. The camera follows her in a 30-second tracking shot, as if Ashdown watched a True Detective tutorial and decided to give it a go. The problem? Instead of tension, it feels like someone filming a TikTok with bad lighting.

The production design deserves its own roast. Fi and Bram’s house is the main setting, and while it’s well-constructed (it’s a nice house, let’s be honest), it lacks personality. There’s nothing in it that reflects its owners—not a painting, not a book, not even an ugly vase that screams “this is a home.” It’s as if the decorators were given the brief to “make it generic” so any viewer could project themselves into it. The result is a house that looks like a furniture catalog, not a place where people live. And that, in a series revolving around the idea of “home,” is a cardinal sin. Worse still, the exteriors are so bland you could be in any suburban neighborhood in London, Manchester, or even Madrid. No identity, no atmosphere, nothing to make you feel like you’re somewhere specific. It’s as if Ashdown said, “Just add trees, they look pretty.”

Performances: When the Script Is Bad, Even Good Actors Drown

The cast of Our House is, on paper, one of its strengths. You’ve got Tuppence Middleton, who proved her chops in Sense8 and The Imitation Game, and Martin Compston, a Scottish actor with enough charisma to power a small city. But here, both seem to be acting in entirely different films. Middleton tries to give Fi depth, but the script forces her to spend half her time silently weeping and the other half screaming at someone who isn’t listening. Compston, meanwhile, wears the expression of a man who’s just learned his character’s about to die and is frantically checking his life insurance. The supporting cast fares no better. Rupert Penry-Jones plays a cop, but his character is so flat you could iron clothes on him. And Bronagh Waugh, as Fi’s sister, radiates the energy of someone who’s been forced to act at gunpoint.

The sole exception is Weruche Opia, who plays Fi’s neighbor, Mercy. Opia has that rare ability to make even the most absurd lines sound natural. There’s a scene in the fourth episode where Mercy and Fi argue in the kitchen, and Opia conveys more with a single glance than the rest of the cast does in the entire episode. It’s a shame her character vanishes for long stretches, as if Ashdown forgot she existed. But when she’s on screen, Our House remembers, if only for a moment, that it could’ve been more than a forgettable domestic thriller.

The Script: The Black Hole Where Good Ideas Went to Die

The script for Our House is a masterclass in how to take an intriguing premise and turn it into a quagmire of clichés and squandered potential. Ashdown seems obsessed with “drawing out the mystery,” but instead of building tension, he pads episodes with scenes that go nowhere. There’s a subplot about a former tenant that’s as relevant as a bad joke at a funeral. And then there are the anonymous text messages, appearing and disappearing like a ghost in a hurry. The problem isn’t that the plot’s complicated—it’s that it’s confusing in the laziest way possible. As if Ashdown wrote all six episodes in one night and then went on vacation without proofreading.

Worse, the script commits the unforgivable sin of being predictable. There’s not a single twist that surprises, not a single revelation you couldn’t see coming from the first episode. Characters make decisions that defy all logic, as if they’re following a “How to Ruin Your Life in 10 Easy Steps” manual. And the dialogue is so forced it sounds like it was lifted from a beginner’s screenwriting workshop. There’s a scene where Fi tells her sister, “It’s not just a house, it’s our home.” Yes, Fi, we get it. You’ve been hammering that point home for six episodes.

The best

• Weruche Opia: The actress rescues every scene she’s in, infusing humanity into a character the script seems to have forgotten. Her chemistry with Tuppence Middleton is the only thing that makes the series watchable.

• The initial premise: The idea of losing your home and identity is terrifying, and the first episode nails that sense of vulnerability. Shame it dissolves like a sugar cube in the Thames.

• Sound design in key moments: There are a couple of scenes where silence or ambient noise (like a creaking door) actually builds tension. More of that, please.

The worst

• The pacing: Six episodes to tell a story that could’ve been wrapped in two. Every scene drags on forever, as if the goal is to torture the viewer.

• The script: Predictable, full of holes, and packed with dialogue that sounds like it was written by a “deep thriller quotes” algorithm.

• The direction: Simon Ashdown seems unsure what he’s trying to say, and the mise-en-scène reflects that confusion. Generic shots, lost actors, and zero visual style.

The ending: A deus ex machina* so forced it feels like a bad joke. After six episodes of filler, the payoff is so disappointing you’ll want a refund for your wasted time.

• The supporting characters: All are flat, forgettable, and in some cases, actively annoying. Not a single one adds anything substantial to the plot.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

Our House is the televisual equivalent of an IKEA bookshelf: it looks like a great idea in the catalog, but when you try to assemble it at home, you realize pieces are missing, the instructions are in Chinese, and you’re left with three extra screws you have no idea where to put. Simon Ashdown had a domestic thriller with potential, but he ruined it with a script full of holes, insufferable pacing, and an ending scribbled in a moment of desperation. Weruche Opia salvages the furniture, but even she can’t stop the series from sinking under the weight of its own mediocrity. If you’re looking for a well-crafted mystery, keep walking. If you’re looking for a series to fall asleep to on the couch, this is your champion. 💀

Our House: frequently asked questions

What is the rating of "Our House" on Claqueta Ácida?

"Our House" scored 4.2/10 on Claqueta Ácida in the review by Héctor Veneno.

Is "Our House" worth watching?

No. We gave it 4.2/10 (Sulfuric Acid), our rating for films we don't recommend.

Who directed "Our House"?

"Our House" was directed by Simon Ashdown.

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Theater Collateral Damage Report

Psychophysical impact certificate issued by Héctor Veneno

💀 Severe Auditory & Mental Trauma

🥱 Yawn-o-meter

4 bostezos, 2 con quejido audible distribuidos con inquietante regularidad.

⏱️ Panic Clock Checks

Consultas al móvil tan frecuentes que acabaron formando parte del visionado.

😬 Cringe Index 6.4/10

☕ Caffeine Prescription

3 espressos triples o aceptar la derrota con dignidad.

💥 Derailment Point

"Desde el primer acto, cuando quedó claro que nadie en la sala de montaje había visto la película completa."