Directed by Michael Showalter
Starring: Anne Hathaway, Dakota Johnson, Josh Hartnett

Colleen Hoover has been on a roll of late with five big-screen adaptations of her literary work since the 2010s. The biggest so far has been the film It Ends with Us (2024), infamous for its behind-the-scenes troubles playing out in the tabloids as well as very public legal battles between its stars. But this hasn’t stopped her momentum amid a loyal and rabid fanbase for her books.

The latest adaptation, the thriller Verity, began as a self-published Kindle book. She is arguably inching closer to being the Stephen King of romance/young adult authors, highly sought after by the Hollywood machine. Now officially on the silver screen, Verity boasts a high-production treatment with a bevy of A-list stars. But will it reap the rewards shown by the book’s success?

Anne Hathaway plays Verity Crawford, a highly successful author known for portraying uncompromising villains in her books. After a recent accident, her publishing team, along with her husband Jeremy (Hartnett), hires Lowen (Johnson), a struggling writer, to help finish her latest novel. Lowen accepts and proceeds to stay with the Crawfords. While researching Verity’s notes, Lowen notices that things may not be as they seem. As her investigation into Verity’s life deepens, so do her feelings for Jeremy, with tragic consequences.

Johnson’s Lowen Ashleigh feels like another variation of Anastasia Steele and probably even lower in complexity. Hartnett sticks to the passive, though hunky, husband role. Hathaway is just barely in the movie, mostly in flashbacks. All these, along with vapid dialogue, add up to a slightly sexy, two-dimensional movie.

There are hints of inspiration from Hitchcock (1940’s Rebecca comes to mind) and Clouzot’s Les Diaboliques (1955). As a psychological thriller, Verity strives to be in the same ranks as noir classics Niagara (1953) and A Kiss Before Dying (1956). With its attractive and capable stars, Verity is a missed opportunity and perhaps better reinterpreted by a modern-day De Palma or Cronenberg, who would have played around with the story’s predictable nature. 

As erotic thrillers go, Verity lacks the punch and edge of Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat (1981) or something even more twisted like Roman Polanski’s Bitter Moon (1992). It’s not a complete loss, though, as the cast brings a glossy sheen and the faint feeling of getting your money’s worth, especially on those date movie nights.

It just misses the mark in the third act. Because of that and despite a promising production, Verity might be better read than watched.

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