Netflix’s limited series The Residence flips the White House on its side—and its head—with a juicy comedic whodunnit set not in the Oval Office, but in the West Wing’s lesser-seen cousin: the Executive Residence. Forget policy briefings and press secretaries—this is a murder mystery among the maids, butlers, and florists, with just enough political spice to keep things bipartisan.
Tandy Culpepper adored it. “A deliciously wicked mashup of Knives Out, Veep, and Downton Abbey—if Downton had better lighting and a body bag,” Culpepper raved. The star of the show is Uzo Aduba as eccentric investigator Cordelia Cupp, a modern-day Poirot with a passion for watching birds as in "birding." . The murder of the chief usher sets off an increasingly absurd series of revelations among the White House’s permanent staff, and Culpepper praised the show’s tight pacing, whip-smart dialogue, and fearless satire. “It skewers D.C. culture with charm and chaos,” he said, “and I laughed out loud more times than I’ll ever admit publicly.”
Lisa Johnson Mandell was less amused. “It tries too hard,” she said. “The tone swings from slapstick to self-important, and most of the time I wasn’t sure what it wanted to be.” While she acknowledged Aduba’s performance as a “bright spot,” Mandell felt the rest of the ensemble was underused or overwhelmed by the show’s need to juggle comedy, mystery, and political satire all at once. “It wants to be clever and campy, but it ends up messy and mannered,” she said. “I didn’t laugh—I winced.”
If you’re a fan of genre-bending, character-packed, high-concept comedy with a satirical bent, The Residence might be your perfect binge. Tandy Culpepper says go ahead and RSVP “Yes” to this twisted State Dinner. Lisa Johnson Mandell, on the other hand, suggests staying home with the lights off and the doors locked. Either way, it’s a series that’s bound to spark conversation—perhaps even across party lines.
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TV Review: And Just Like That...
And Just Like That... is back, and with it comes the continuing saga of Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda as they navigate life, love, and awkward brunches in a post-Big, post-COVID Manhattan. The Sex and the City sequel series still has stilettos, still has sex (sort of), and still has a love-hate relationship with its own legacy.
Both Tandy Culpepper and Lisa Johnson Mandell agree: And Just Like That... has its moments—but it also has its migraines.
Tandy Culpepper, a longtime fan of the original series, found himself equal parts charmed and frustrated. “There are still flashes of the wit and warmth that made Sex and the City iconic,” he said. “Carrie dropping a podcast mic for a quick espresso shot of nostalgia? I’m in. But then someone will say something like ‘Che is a mirror for my vulnerability,’ and I feel like I’ve been hit by a quote-of-the-day calendar being hurled out of a SoulCycle window.”
Lisa Johnson Mandell agreed. “Every time the show lets the characters just be, it works,” she said. “But then it remembers it has something to prove—about being relevant, diverse, sensitive, evolved—and it becomes a checklist instead of a story.” Mandell also noted that while the show is clearly trying to update its worldview, it often does so with the subtlety of a Times Square billboard.
When it remembers its roots—friendship, fashion, and fumbling through middle-aged messiness—And Just Like That... shines.Nixon’s Miranda stumbles through reinvention with both courage and cringe. Kristin Davis’s Charlotte still balances maternal overachievement with naïve optimism, while Cynthia
Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie remains the gravitational center, though even she s
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