The Residence

As a mystery enthusiast, I noticed as early as the second episode that the series’ title design is quite ingenious. Upon checking, it turns out the titles not only originate from famous detective novels or suspense films but also closely match the content of each episode. It’s clear the creative team put a lot of care into this (although this series combines mystery investigation with political satire, this review focuses solely on the mystery aspect and contains some spoilers—read with discretion if you haven’t watched it yet).

Episode 1: The Fall of the House of Usher A very famous work that probably needs no introduction, one of Edgar Allan Poe’s best-known short stories. It tells the eerie tale of the Usher estate and a pair of twins living there. Incidentally, Netflix released a series by the same name in 2023, which you might want to check out. The first episode serves as the case’s prologue, introducing the discovery of AB’s death, the various characters involved, and the backdrop of the White House state banquet. Using this classic as the episode title feels perfectly fitting—the White House, a building with a long history, parallels the Usher estate and foreshadows the eventual fracturing of relationships inside.

Episode 2: Dial M for Murder One of Alfred Hitchcock’s classics, featuring businessman Tony who, upon discovering his wife Mary’s affair with a detective novelist Mark, meticulously plans a seemingly perfect murder by phone. This episode depicts AB receiving a mysterious phone call that lures them to a location, after which they realize their life is in danger. The phone call is a key prop and signal in Hitchcock’s film and also marks the malicious beginning in this series.

Episode 3: Knives Out A well-known recent classic detective film starring Daniel Craig as the famous detective Benoit Blanc. It centers on the mysterious death of wealthy novelist Harlan Thrombey on his 85th birthday and the ensuing investigation of his vast inheritance. The key prop in this episode is a knife, used to sever AB’s wrists. The storyline revolves around tracking down this knife and its owner, truly embodying the “Knives Out” title.

Episode 4: The Last of Sheila A 1973 classic detective movie, notable for having Anthony Perkins—star of Hitchcock’s “Psycho”—as one of its screenwriters. This episode focuses on the White House butler Sheila Cannon and her series of actions. It explores her role in the case and her habit of lying. The title cleverly references her name. I also noticed the character’s surname “Cannon” might be a nod to Dyan Cannon, the lead actress in the original film—perhaps an intentional tribute by the creators.

Episode 5: The Trouble with Harry Another Hitchcock film, about a quiet town shaken by a sudden death, with several people thinking they might be the culprit—yet the truth surprises everyone. Here, suspicion begins to concentrate on Harry Hollinger in the latter half of the episode, matching the title. By this point, every suspect seems to have a motive to kill AB, echoing the film’s tangled web of suspects.

Episode 6: The Third Man A British thriller directed by Carol Reed, adapted from a Graham Greene novel, revolving around the search for a mysterious “third man” at a crime scene. This episode introduces the presence of a third person at the scene, pushing the investigation deeper toward the truth.

Episode 7: The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb A Sherlock Holmes short story by Arthur Conan Doyle. The central figure in this episode is the White House engineer and his role in escalating the case. The character calls himself “Engineer” and values this identity; though the original story involves a thumb, this series seems unrelated to that detail.

Episode 8: The Mystery of the Yellow Room A classic locked-room mystery novel by Gaston Leroux, known as the first long locked-room murder mystery, which set the standard for this genre. Seeing this as the final episode’s title gave me great satisfaction—the creative team really knows their stuff. There is a sense of returning to the origin: everything started in the yellow room, and everything ends there. The crime scene returns to this room; the detective leads everyone back to it. The locked-room puzzle returns to its roots. Whether the idea of the White House’s yellow room came first or the title was decided earlier, it doesn’t matter. As a mystery fan, this Easter egg is a gift to all who love the world of deduction. Both the book and this series share a theme of a locked-room murder that’s not quite locked.

Having gone through all the titles, I must say I really enjoy this series. The plot is intricate without being dull, the clues interwoven yet clear, the gimmicks big, and the detective wonderfully eccentric. At the same time, it also offers some insights into the White House’s structure and bird species. A truly excellent work.

“It is easy to call a bird, it is difficult to call it right.” — Paul Holt

The 2011 film The Big Year conveyed to audiences that birdwatchers are not weirdos, just ordinary people with a passion. Over the following decade or so, something must have changed, because when birdwatchers reappeared on screen, they were no longer oddballs but had become a kind of sophisticated character trope.

The Days of the Jackal (released last year) features a professional assassin who is an amateur birdwatcher. This series takes it further—the protagonist is primarily a birdwatcher and secondarily a detective, even during investigations not forgetting to birdwatch and promote birdwatching. The screenwriter is willing to use birdwatching to shape the protagonist’s style and even preach some grand truths, which most birdwatchers probably appreciate. However, as an entirely self-disciplined activity (yes, what you see depends solely on you), honesty should always come before style. In this regard, certain aspects of White House Murder Case are seriously problematic and will definitely cause misunderstandings about birdwatching among non-birdwatchers. Hence, this review is written to clarify.

As a comparison, let me first say a few words about The Days of the Jackal. Although it also involves birdwatching, it does not inspire me to complain. Without going into the main plot, the birdwatching details are realistically and reasonably portrayed—no complaints. I wouldn’t kill more people just because someone was distracted looking at falcons while driving; but it’s indeed dangerous to watch birds while driving. I don’t have secret meetings, but those who have been to bird hides will understand their concealment. In short, birdwatching elements in The Days of the Jackal are naturally and reasonably integrated into the story. What about this series? Let’s list some points.

Episode 1, Original Sin: The protagonist Coop’s first scene is birdwatching on the White House lawn at 10:30 pm. To this, I can only say: what the heck are you watching?! Two simple reasons make this behavior utterly absurd. First, humans cannot see anything. Humans have terrible night vision, whether by naked eye or regular binoculars, it’s practically impossible to spot birds hiding in the treetops at night (even with some lighting). Thermal imaging isn’t used either because although heat sources can be seen, it’s generally impossible to recognize bird species by their feathers on thermal images. More importantly, there are no birds! Except for owls and nightjars, most birds are not nocturnal and usually hide in cover to sleep rather than attend White House banquets with humans. (Nocturnal flight during migration happens high above, free of obstacles.) However, when Coop steps out of the elevator, she reports two bird names, Screech Owl and Purple Grackle, which are somewhat reasonable—the first is nocturnal; the second is ground-active and might stray into a lit lawn area. But the Song Sparrow later mentioned is absurd. Compared to Fox Sparrow, also on the list, even if a sparrow-sized bird was roaming at night, who could distinguish these two species from 50 meters away in darkness?

(Images: Fox Sparrow above; Song Sparrow below)

Episode 2, The Falcon Without a Name: The episode opens with a handsome Peregrine Falcon, which—though not nocturnal—flies a circle around the scene, highlighting three key locations. Ok, a “tool” falcon, understood. By episode end, the script ties this up with Coop lecturing her slow-witted sidekick FBI detective Parker on falcon hunting skills, even claiming her top desired bird on Theodore Roosevelt’s birdwatching list is a falcon. (·_·;) For non-birders this may be subtle, but for birdwatchers, this is like someone claiming their favorite Olympic gymnastics event is “people.” What people? What falcons? There are over 60 falcon species, but Roosevelt’s White House bird list doesn’t have that many falcons—in fact, only one, the Sparrow Hawk, ranking sixth.

The real Theodore Roosevelt White House bird list: That species is now called the American Kestrel. Hawks and falcons differ significantly and are classified separately (hawk family and falcon family), and the old names are outdated due to taxonomy. (Fourth and fifth on the list are hawks, not falcons.) The show flashes this list in episode one when Coop enters the White House, using Roosevelt-era names for the top five birds as they appear. But the writers swapped the sixth item from Sparrow Hawk to Falcon. How disrespectful! Do they not recognize falcons? If they thought the American Kestrel was too small and cute to be dominant onscreen and preferred the Peregrine Falcon, that’s fine—it’s fiction, not a documentary. But why not name the Peregrine Falcon properly? By the way, Roosevelt was a huge promoter of U.S. wildlife conservation, and the national park system was largely established under his administration. His bird list is very fitting for the show.

(Images: Eastern Meadowlark above; Yellow-throated Longclaw below)

Episode 3, The Magic Book: Coop again uses a birdwatching story to educate Parker. Eastern Meadowlark and Yellow-throated Longclaw, though in different families, might look similar to non-birders. But Coop coming to the White House to birdwatch while carrying a field guide with a whole page on an African endemic species, the Yellow-throated Longclaw, is bizarre. There is no “Birds of the World” by Wendell Phillips, but if there were, it would be massive. Even if each bird had two pages, at over 10,000 species, the book would be about 20,000 pages—too big for practical use. Maybe it’s a magic book? If so, fine. But a field guide should be light and cover local target species for ease of use. A thick tome like this is better suited as a coffee table book.

(Image: Tuamotu Sandpiper)

Episode 4, Looking Toward the Other Side of the Sea: At the start of this episode, the “Birds of the World” book appears again, used by Coop’s cute nephew to check the spelling of the Tuamotu Sandpiper, a species endemic to French Polynesia. Maybe it really is a magic book. Coop and nephew search tirelessly over the sea surface for two days with no luck. The nephew thinks they’ll never find the sandpiper; Coop disagrees. Smart readers will guess who’s right by the photo. Yes, it’s a sandpiper, a shorebird found in beach and scrub habitats, not over the open sea. When Coop stares longingly at the horizon, she invents a new phrase akin to “climbing a tree to catch fish”—“looking out to sea for a sandpiper.” Also, any sane birder trying to watch sea birds would never rely only on binoculars. Binoculars typically max out at 10x magnification, insufficient for birds hundreds or thousands of meters away on choppy water. For shorebird watching, a fixed monocular mounted on a tripod with zoom from 20x to 60x or even 70x magnification is ideal. By the way, the name “telescope” is misleading and causes a common question from onlookers: “How far can your telescope see?”

(Image: Giant Antpitta)

Episode 6 is the last with birdwatching content. Episodes 7 and 8 dive into plot twists and case resolution. The Giant Antpitta, found in limited areas of Ecuador and Colombia, is vulnerable, with fewer than 2,500 individuals. Yet at some tourist sites, feeding makes them relatively common. If such a bird can be Coop’s lifelong nemesis, she’s either extremely unlucky or her adherence to old-school birding has kept her away from sites using bait for photography. If the latter, I respect her dedication.

Overall, the show’s writers demonstrate considerable knowledge of birdwatching and birds, with no outright mislabeling of birds in English dialogue (though Chinese subtitles mistranslate some, e.g., confusing Giant Antpitta and Giant Antshrike). However, they lack respect for birdwatching by including many scenes departing from basic facts, purely for style points. I hope birdwatching grows more popular, but without honesty, what kind of birdwatching is that?

Three and a half stars.

The investigation pacing in the first seven episodes is very smooth, providing plenty of suspense and well-laid clues. Each character’s personality is perfectly portrayed, and the overlapping lies revealed through interrogations by different participants gradually peel back the truth in a very satisfying way. No shot feels wasted—you can always catch callbacks later that connect the dots for new deductions. The comedic elements are also excellent; the lighthearted and witty tone really elevates the viewing experience.

However, episode eight seems to squander much of the enthusiasm and expectations built up over the first seven episodes. While it makes sense from an omniscient perspective to lay out all the information the audience has to the characters clearly, this drags the episode’s pace. What should have been the climax—where the truth is finally revealed and brings an epiphany—is instead burdened with redundant dialogue and exaggerated interactions that stretch the runtime and force twists, causing a sharp drop in enjoyment. Even the final culprit’s “wolf reveal” felt a bit frivolous despite the symbolic nod to birds. The same problem persists: redundancy slows the rhythm. Actually, the earlier episodes are not the usual 40 or 60 minutes long but take a middle ground. It might have been better to extract some content from those episodes and consolidate it into episode eight to create a stronger big reveal moment—good writing and good watching. This episode was really a missed opportunity.

One point worth praising is a personal interpretation or reflection I drew (if you agree, fist bump; if you don’t, well, to each their own):

The entire series critiques and satirizes how ignorant, arrogant, and extravagant the privileged white class is, and how much chaos and strange inconvenience they cause to the hardworking middle class. The staff really feel like one big family, doing their best to endure and make life easier for these privileged people.

Even at the final reveal, they don’t really care about the life of a hardworking person taken by some bizarre, unreasonable reason—they focus on listing who they think is the culprit listening to the story, which is especially ironic right after the female lead’s profound speech.

Also, throughout the series, you can clearly feel its reflection and criticism of reality: the politicians entering the White House are like children playing make-believe in kindergarten, acting absurdly. Without the middle-class staff cleaning up their messes, the White House would have long ceased to function...

Shonda Rhimes’ shows really do have something special. Looking forward to season two!

This really is a very, very interesting series. I’ve always enjoyed mystery and detective genres, and with the White House setting, I was naturally quite intrigued. The suspects’ own stories gradually emerge through the female detective’s deductions—sometimes amusing, sometimes sad, sometimes contemptuous—truly reflecting the full spectrum of human life.

Since it’s a detective story, the detective’s personality and charisma are especially important, and I have to say Cupp is absolutely fantastic!! She has a very unique aura and presence, and the combination with birdwatching is really clever. I was deeply impressed by the story about her childhood memory helping her sister find socks—it vividly shows Cupp’s calm, persistent nature of digging until the truth is uncovered. It’s precisely this trait that allows her to unravel the layers of the case one by one.

Among all the suspect stories, I liked the engineer and the cleaning lady’s the most. Only their story feels pure, heartfelt, something to cherish and love. Compared to other self-proclaimed elites, it’s hard not to feel a deep sense of irony and critique.

When guessing the culprit, I was one step off—I suspected Elliot. Maybe because he seemed too low-key, whereas Lily’s flamboyance made it hard to imagine her smart enough to commit such a crime. Of course, it turned out neither was the culprit. Without the following chain of coincidences and twists, this case would’ve been pretty straightforward. Also, it’s a bit baffling that the case was solved by just sealing off the door rather than destroying evidence, especially after a few months of delay.

Lily’s motive pushes the irony meter to its peak. You know, even rich people steal—and sometimes that’s the very reason they have money. Wow.

A detective mystery series I’ve really enjoyed recently. With all the technology and surveillance nowadays, classic-style detective work and even the detective profession itself feel somewhat outdated. But avid fans of detective stories still try to find ways to give detectives a stage to shine on—and the White House is a perfect setting for that.

Inside the rooms, there’s no surveillance. To keep things under control, they can’t call the police, so no photos, fingerprints, or blood evidence are collected. Even the autopsy is just preliminary; no toxicology tests are done. The various agencies that do show up even end up playing mahjong together. The permanent White House staff, the president’s dysfunctional family members, private advisors, temporary security, visiting foreign presidents—all these tangled loves and hates form a perfect backdrop for a classic locked-room mystery.

I also really appreciate the politically conscious casting: the detective is a Black older woman, the chief is a Black older man, the assistant is a Chinese-American federal agent, and the service staff represent various nationalities and skin colors living harmoniously in one show. This is true political correctness! You can have Black detectives and chiefs, but the characters must carry the roles with competence—people recognize them as detectives or chiefs because of their skills, not their skin color. I love this detective a lot, and I really hope Netflix will make a series centered on her so this character can truly shine.