‘Verity’ review: Dakota Johnson and Anne Hathaway struggle to lift flimsy Colleen Hoover adaptation

Dir: Michael Showalter. US. 2026. 117mins

A knowingly trashy thriller whose outrageousness eventually overwhelms its logic, Verity stars Dakota Johnson as a struggling novelist tasked with ghostwriting a popular author’s next book, only to get involved in psychosexual mindgames. With Anne Hathaway as the bestselling author — who cannot move or talk following a car accident — and Josh Hartnett as her husband who takes a shine to the new woman in their home, the film encourages its audience to savour the lurid intrigue. But director Michael Showalter’s adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s 2018 novel ends up feeling like a flimsy pastiche of the erotic thrillers of yesteryear.

The plot goes from enjoyably ludicrous to outright preposterous

The film opens in the UK and US on October 2, catering to viewers seeking sexy escapism. This is the fourth Hoover novel brought to the big screen, although unlike her previous adaptations — including 2024’s It Ends With Us ($351 million worldwide) — Verity is not a tearjerker but, rather, a story of adultery, mystery and murder. Star power and a critic-proof premise should make Verity a robust alternative to Digger and other serious Oscar fare.

New York writer Lowen’s (Johnson) books barely sell, but her fortunes change once she is approached with a top-secret assignment. The publishing house for blockbuster author Verity Crawford (Hathaway) wants Lowen to complete her next book, which Verity is unable to finish for unspecified reasons. Initially, Lowen resists — she considers Verity’s bestsellers to be hacky — but after encouragement from Verity’s loving husband Jeremy (Hartnett), who tells Lowen how much Verity admired her writing, Lowen agrees. The job requires her to live in the Crawfords’ luxurious home in the middle of the Vermont woods in order to pore through Verity’s extensive notes. It is only then that she learns the truth: Verity was badly injured in a car crash and is now paralyzed with no ability to speak and little hope for a full recovery.

Showalter (The Big Sick, The Eyes Of Tammy Faye) creates a slick, lush sheen for Verity, which takes place largely at Verity’s gorgeous, slightly sinister-looking house. The film establishes its air of tawdry suspense early when Lowen, while walking in New York, witnesses a tragic accident involving a bike messenger, the corpse’s blood spraying all over her shocked face. This is also when she meets Jeremy, the two of them having no idea that they are about to attend the same meeting regarding Verity’s next novel. Despite the fatality they have just seen — or, perhaps, because of the jarringly intimate event they shared — there is a romantic spark between them, that attraction carrying over when Lowen moves into the Crawfords’ home, which Verity and Jeremy share with their young son Crew (Brady Wagner).

Volker Bertelmann’s jumpy orchestral score constantly hints at diabolical things to come, which is fitting considering that Verity’s books focus on deliciously villainous characters getting away with their crimes. Soon, Lowen wonders if she’s entered one of those novels – especially after we realise that Verity actually gave birth to twins, and that Crew’s sister Harper (Sienna Kulovitz) died during a boating accident involving Verity. And then there’s the small matter of Lowen discovering a confidential memoir Verity was privately working on, in which she expressed her true feelings about her seemingly happy home life. The more of the scathing autobiography Lowen reads, which we see play out in flashbacks, the more convinced she becomes that Verity hated her domestic prison, and had plotted to kill both twins in the orchestrated boating mishap

Gasps and giggles are encouraged by Showalter and his cast. Johnson is well equipped for her role as Lowen, who becomes consumed with paranoia that something nefarious is going on inside this home. Did Verity fake her paralysis? Was Harper’s death actually a murder? And will Lowen give into temptation and take Jeremy to bed? As she did with Fifty Shades Of Grey, Johnson coyly walks the line between self-mocking and sincere, managing to play an increasingly hyperbolic character with a wink. Similarly, Hathaway relishes portraying the pompous, possibly demented Verity in the flashbacks but, even when Verity is immobilized, the Oscar-winner provides just enough of a suggestion that perhaps this expert thriller novelist has crafted her best twist yet.

What upends Verity’s carousel of wild red herrings and steamy sex scenes is a plot that goes from enjoyably ludicrous to outright preposterous. Disappointingly, too, Showalter’s anonymous visuals mostly ape the tone of kinky, disreputable thrillers like Body Double while lacking their sharp characters and dynamic storytelling. As scandalously smutty as Verity wants to be, this proudly dumb-fun thriller could have stood to be a little smarter.