7 Women and a Murder

There is something inherently cozy about a group of glamorous people being trapped in a house with a fresh corpse while a blizzard howls outside. It’s a trope as old as Agatha Christie’s typewriter, but in our current era of "Knives Out" clones and high-budget streaming whodunits, it feels like we’re in the middle of a full-blown mystery renaissance. I sat down with 7 Women and a Murder expecting a sleek, modern Italian reimagining of a classic setup, and what I got was a film that feels like a brightly colored box of assorted chocolates—some are sweet, some are a bit hollow, but the packaging is undeniably gorgeous.

I watched this on a Tuesday evening while nursing a slightly cold espresso and convinced myself I could hear the wind whistling through my own window frames, which added a layer of immersion the director probably didn't intend. It’s the kind of movie that demands a blanket and a willingness to forgive a little bit of theatrical camp.

The Glamour of the Locked Room

Set in the 1930s, the film wastes absolutely no time. Marcello, the man of the house, is found in his bed with a knife in his back. His wife, daughters, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and the help are all under one roof. The gates are locked, the phone lines are cut, and the car has been tampered with. It’s "Whodunit 101," and director Alessandro Genovesi leans into the artifice with gusto. The mansion is a character in itself—dripping with mid-century elegance and bathed in a color palette that feels like a Technicolor dream.

In the streaming era, we see a lot of films that look "flat" because they’re optimized for smartphone screens, but 7 Women and a Murder actually tries to have a visual identity. It’s theatrical, almost like a filmed play, which makes sense given its origins. This is a remake of François Ozon’s 2002 French hit 8 Women, which was itself based on a 1960s play. While the 2021 version loses one woman and all the musical numbers, it keeps the high-key drama and the suspicious side-eye.

A Masterclass in Italian Side-Eye

The success of a film like this rests entirely on the shoulders of its ensemble. If the chemistry isn't there, you're just watching seven people argue in a fancy living room for eighty minutes. Thankfully, the cast here is a "who’s who" of contemporary Italian cinema. Margherita Buy, who I’ve admired since her work with Nanni Moretti, plays Margherita with a brittle, aristocratic grace that hides a dozen different motives. She’s the anchor of the film, providing a sense of gravity when the plot threatens to drift into pure farce.

Then you have Sabrina Impacciatore as Agostina, the repressed sister-in-law who spends most of the movie on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her comedic timing is sharp, and she manages to make "frantic desperation" look like a high-fashion choice. The younger generation is represented by Benedetta Porcaroli as Caterina and Diana Del Bufalo as Susanna, who bring a more modern, cynical energy to the 1930s setting.

The stand-out for me, however, was Luisa Ranieri as Maria, the new maid. There’s a scene where she’s being interrogated that perfectly captures the film’s vibe—haughty, defensive, and just a little bit ridiculous. The way these women play off one another is the real draw. It’s a constant chess match of "I know your secret, but do you know that I know?"

The "Netflix-ification" of the Mystery

We have to talk about how this film fits into the 2020s landscape. Released during the tail end of the pandemic disruptions and landing on Netflix for international audiences, it’s a prime example of "platform-ready" cinema. It’s short (only 84 minutes!), visually arresting, and easy to digest. However, the lack of musical numbers makes this feel like a diet version of a much richer meal. If you’ve seen the Ozon original, you might find yourself waiting for someone to burst into song, and when they don't, the experience feels a bit truncated.

Interestingly, the film has largely flown under the radar outside of Italy. It’s one of those "hidden gems" in the Netflix algorithm that people stumble upon when they’ve run out of episodes of The White Lotus. It’s a shame it didn't get a wider theatrical push, because those costumes deserve a screen larger than a laptop. The production design by Massimiliano Sturiale is top-tier; the textures of the velvet dresses and the heavy wooden doors are so crisp you can almost smell the furniture polish.

Ultimately, 7 Women and a Murder is a breezy, stylish divertissement. It doesn't reinvent the wheel, and it certainly doesn't reach the heights of its French predecessor, but it’s an entertaining way to spend an hour and a half. It’s a film that knows exactly what it is: a colorful, slightly catty mystery that values aesthetic over deep psychological insight. If you’re looking for a light-hearted crime caper with fantastic knitwear and plenty of Italian flair, this is a solid choice for your next "killing five minutes" (or eighty-four) session.

Don't expect a gritty, mind-bending thriller. Instead, treat it like a vintage postcard—pretty to look at, slightly nostalgic, and gone before you can get tired of it. It’s a testament to the fact that sometimes, all you need for a good time is a dead patriarch and seven women who really, really don't trust each other.