Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Strays’ on Netflix, a Psych-Thriller Tackling Race and Cultural Assimilation

The Strays (now on Netflix) is from filmmaker Nathaniel Martello-White, a first-time director whose Jordan Peele appreciation shows like a slip sneaking out the bottom of a skirt. The film is an eerie-toned psychological thriller aiming for social commentary about race and cultural assimilation, conveyed via the story of an affluent woman, played by Ashley Madekwe, who never, ever, ever speaks about her past, which is precisely the type of scenario ripe to be upended by a plot device or a long-lost character (which may be one and the same). Whether The Strays has something to say about vital issues of the day remains to be seen, but one thing that’s certain is, this affluent woman Got Out but ended up very deep into something else entirely.  

THE STRAYS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Sssstrrressssssss. It’s bearing down on Cheryl (Madekwe). She sits in her project-like housing-development apartment, just feeling it. The people at the housing office treat her like shit, the bills are piling up and it’s all too much for her right now. Her cell phone rings and she doesn’t answer it and then the landline rings and she doesn’t answer that either. She puts a note on the fridge that she’s going to the hairdresser and heads out the door. YEARS LATER reads a title card overtop an establishing shot of a spacious and luxurious modern home in an idyllic suburban setting. That’s where Cheryl lives, except she’s Neve now. It seems she didn’t go to the hairdresser. 

Neve, we absolutely must note, is a Black woman with light-ish skin. We see her brushing on makeup to make it a subtle shade lighter. She pops a prescription pill, which isn’t a big deal at all, lots of people take prescription pills every day, but this is a movie and it makes a point of the shake from the bottle and the – glunk – swallow. She looks in the mirror and practices speaking in an artificial, affected tone that’s best described as Haughty British. She wears stylish little leather driving gloves and big sunglasses and pearls as she gets in her Range Rover, and there’s something… is robotic the right word to describe her? Robotic, or Stepford, maybe? She’s out for tea with an associate and sees a man in a red cap (Jorden Myrie) in the background, and she’s unsettled. She’s driving home and sees the same man in the rearview, and, distracted, accidentally hits another car. Is she really seeing him or is he a hallucination? He seems to appear and disappear so quickly. So we wonder.

Neve is married to a nice enough Caucasian fellow, Ian (Justin Salinger), and they have two teenagers, Sebastian (Samuel Small) and Mary (Maria Almeida). Their home is immaculate. Expensive, no doubt. Notably, she has sex with Ian before she removes the wig covering her natural hair. She has three hairpieces, and they seem to make her quite itchy lately. One morning she gives the kids a ride to their gated, gold-striped-tie ultra-hoity private school, where she works as deputy headmistress. The new custodian there – is he that same guy, the guy in the red cap? She sees Sebastian being friendly with him and nearly flips her wig, scratch scratch. She seems to be developing quite a (scratch scratch scratch) (damn wig) tic. Mary, meanwhile, also makes a new friend (Bukky Bakray), and now both of Neve’s children are off doing whatever until late, which is out of character for her perfect, manicured offspring. Neve responds by walloping poor Sebastian with a shoe. The day of Neve’s big backyard fundraiser gathering, she’s speeching away when she spots the red cap man alongside Mary’s friend and we wonder if they’re really there or if she’s seeing things. And here is when it really hits the fan. 

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The outsider-almost-fitting-in-an-immaculate-highbrow-setting gives off I Am Love vibes. Passing addressed similar Black-woman-in-White-culture situations. I already made a Stepford Wives reference. But Get Out is a major touchstone here – maybe a bit too major.

Performance Worth Watching:  Bakray – a BAFTA winner for 2019 indie drama Rocks – avoids some of the histrionics of some of her castmates, and gives the type of dynamic supporting performance that might win her some star-on-the-rise accolades. 

Memorable Dialogue: “Are you ready for the next level?” – Red cap guy drops an ominous one

Sex and Skin: The sex in the sex scene all occurs below the frame.

Our Take: Ominous. It’s a key vibe here. Also portentous and foreboding. You know, like something’s going to break. It’s either Cheryl/Neve’s sanity, or a flimsy secret about to be traumatically Humpty-Dumptied – a secret hinted at in the film’s opening sequence. After the first act, my money was on both, and after the final act, I realized I should’ve put my chips on insanity. That’s not a spoiler; Neve clearly is the reinvention of Cheryl, a new self crafted so she can fit into a society defined by its creature comforts and air of prestige. In that opening sequence, she asks if it’s wrong to want more, and now that she’s got more, what does it mean, what did she have to do to attain it, and was it worth the effort and apparent sacrifice?

A compelling question, for sure, but I’m afraid I’m implying that The Strays is more provocative and fascinating than it really is. Martello-White’s intent and ambition is notable, but his hand is heavy. He amps up the ominousness with a cliched musical score, stalker-in-the-periphery visual cat-and-mouse games, and the usual gaslighting of the protagonist. His screenplay is structured so it doubles back to show familiar scenes from different points-of-view, which is inspired, and he maintains tonal consistency, which is half of a filmmaker’s battle. 

But that tone is off. The film almost timidly skirts the edge of satire, as if it wants to slash racial tropes and dynamics to ribbons, but didn’t sharpen its claws enough. It’s not as funny or unsettling as it needs to be, with a predictable end-of-act-one twist and a conclusion that’s surprising in its logic, but isn’t precluded by the nerve-wracking buildup of suspense it needs to pack a serious wallop. There’s too much hinting at ideas about privilege and barely subcutaneous racism, but not enough diligent cultivation of the subtext. It’s a stylish film, but one that’s ultimately too shallow and familiar to be truly effective.

Our Call: SKIP IT. It’s hard not to admire Martello-White’s ambition, but The Strays feels too much like Peele Lite.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.