The Watcher’s true villain isn’t the secret stalker

Ryan Murphy’s newest thriller is all about the fear of being surveilled by a stranger. But a weird lack of boundaries inside the home proves to be just as frightening, writes Nicole Vassell

Bobby Cannavale as the overprotective ‘Dean’ in The Watcher (ERIC LIEBOWITZ/NETFLIX)

There’s plenty to be scared of in The Watcher, Netflix’s latest collaboration with Ryan Murphy. Based on a true story, the thriller follows a family whose move from New York City to the New Jersey suburbs quickly becomes nightmarish. There’s a disturbing brother-sister neighbour duo who invite themselves onto (and into) the property as it suits. A spiky married couple across the street who have no qualms meddling in their garden. And a mystery stalker who sends them frightening letters, informing them that they’re constantly being watched and alluding to danger up ahead. Sharp scene cuts and surprise musical swells all do well to put the viewer immediately on edge. There’s even a pet ferret that meets a grisly end to have you cowering behind your fingers. But it’s not long before you realise that the creepiest thing about this show isn’t the jump scares or the secret person following the family’s every move – it’s the dad who just can’t seem to leave his teenage daughter alone.

We’re introduced to Dean Brannock (Bobby Cannavale) as a run-of-the-mill family man. Handsome, good-humoured and caring, he seems a devoted husband to Nora (Naomi Watts) and a sturdy father to their two children. Since he’s about to “make partner” (and a lot more money) at his nondescript legal job, he decides that moving the family out of their city apartment and into a large country house, an hour away, is the logical way to seal their status as the perfect nuclear unit – whether they can fully afford it, or not.

Upon moving in, Dean and Nora’s 16-year-old daughter Ellie (Isabel Gravitt) discovers an abandoned red lipstick in the bathroom. Intrigued, she puts it on and admires herself in the mirror. Though the desire to apply a stranger’s makeup to your own face might not be universal, the urge to experiment with your appearance, for many teenage girls, is. It’s perfectly normal for a girl to use makeup as a step on the road of personal discovery: after all, awkward, adolescent cosmetic fumbles are pretty much part and parcel of growing up and figuring out your “look”.

Yet, when Dean first sees his daughter wearing lipstick, he’s immediately antsy. “We worked really hard to protect you from this kind of thing,” he coos, in a plea for her to remove it. “Stay young for as long as you can for us, please?” he adds, kissing Ellie on the cheek. There’s nothing particularly worrying about a parent mourning the growth of their teenager, and longing for more time with them before they become fully independent. But there’s something about Dean’s disgust at her appearance that feels uncomfortable. After all, it’s just a touch of lipstick in the comfort of her own home – what’s the real problem?

Later, at the dinner table, when Ellie wears a jumper that hangs slightly off her shoulder, Dean admonishes her for having her bra strap on show. “Careful what kind of message you want to project,” he warns her, tugging the jumper up over her skin. Embarrassed, Ellie storms up to her room. This time, Dean’s intervention is striking enough for Nora to ask him why he’s behaving in this way, to which he responds by claiming that their daughter is growing up too fast. While TV’s overprotective dad trait is nothing new, seeing it applied in a 2022 series, and in such innocuous situations, is unnerving; it makes you worry that his interest in keeping his daughter young is not for the right reasons. For a while, it’s unclear whether we’re just meant to see Dean’s interfering as simply annoying, or whether we’re right to find it weird. When Nora brings up her concerns about Dean’s behaviour towards Ellie in a chat with a friend, though, it’s confirmation that his oddness is something for us to pay attention to.

Before long, Dean is lecturing Ellie for locking her bedroom door, and demands to know who she’s speaking to on the phone. Eventually, his obsession leads him to sneak into Ellie’s phone, skimming through her pictures until he finds some of an intimate nature and punishes her for it. To an extent, a parent’s concern for their children and what they’re up to when they’re out of sight is expected. But this violation of her boundaries makes for an off-putting viewing experience – especially when the reasons behind his protection seem excessive and stemmed in old-fashioned, sexist roots. Though Dean’s son is younger than Ellie, and years away from dating, it’s hard to imagine him being this hyper-aware of his coming-of-age exploits when the time comes.

The Watcher’s central plot is about the unease that comes with constantly being watched and a lack of privacy. But the man who seeks to protect his family from this stifling control is the exactor of the very same treatment of his own daughter.

Isabel Gravitt as ‘Ellie’ in The Watcher (ERIC LIEBOWITZ/NETFLIX)

Early in the series, we learn that Dean had plunged the family into bankruptcy some years prior to the move, after making some poor financial investments. In many ways, this dedication to ensuring that his family represents the classic American ideal is his way of fixing his past failings. But, in this venture, motivated by capital greed and performance, Dean adopts a stuffy, patriarchal attitude that threatens to tear his family apart.

As the series progresses, theories of who is terrorising the Brannock family pile up, while the mystery threats grow more targeted and specific. But perhaps they need to pay more attention to what’s happening inside the house. In Dean’s overprotection of his teenage daughter, The Watcher sends a message of how sexist, inter-family surveillance can be the most unsettling phenomenon of all.