Despite its cumbersome repetitiveness, lack of stakes, and superficially executed scenes, Magpie is a conceptually intriguing and well-performed thriller. Daisy Ridley’s Annette and co. are tense to watch, especially given the trope-douchiness of her husband/co-star Ben (Shazad Latif). The film follows this wealthy couple as their daughter Matilda (Hiba Ahmed) lands a starring role in a big-budget project. Though already ignorant towards Annette’s needs, inattentive to her wants, and utterly void of care towards her existence, Ben distances further from Annette upon meeting and becoming infatuated with Matilda’s grown-up Italian co-star, Anna (Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz). As Ben’s lies grow, Annette’s anger and smartly angled animosity increase—leading her to more drastic measures to save things as the film progresses. Magpie rips open wounds caused by misogyny and male selfishness, displaying them in a not-so-grandiose mix of disloyalty and trust.

The best part of Magpie is Daisy Ridley, hands down. She’s calculated, conniving, and borderline sociopathic as much as she is compassionate and attentive toward her filmic loved ones. As a character, Annette represents the lives of many women across different Western cultures, made to be stay-at-home moms while their husbands pursue careers and other women as they please. Ridley understands that kind of hurt, illustrating it most clearly in Annette’s initially devastated outbursts (“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck” she screams as she rhythmically smashes a phone upon seeing Ben’s texts to Hannah). Ridley shines, even if the rest of the film was to be worse than superficial. Latif oozes self-righteousness and, well, the nature of a prick. Latif makes Ben a lovably hateable antagonist, from his man-bun to his disgusting habits.

Unfortunately, as said, Magpie often feels forced. While most of the actual character-to-character interactions feel organic, from Anna’s naivety to Ben’s plans to Annette’s slow desensitization to the whole ordeal, the ideas are too plain-spoken and try too hard. For example, Ben’s text-based interactions with Anna are quite literally steamy. Close-ups of Ben appear as he texts his next risky move to Anna, only to switch over to a vying, doe-eyed Anna surrounded in light steam. This overly seductive shift removes any wiggle room for determining Ben’s misdeeds or for more significant subtextual analyses; everything extractable occurs on the surface—and that’s how the entire film plays. The film’s direction is too simplistically executed. Magpie also sludges from a repetitive nature—Ben texts Anna and ignores Annette, Annette finds out and feels devastated, and Ben texts again—making it sometimes dull to sit through.

While Magpie sludges under extensively thin execution, mighty takes from the core cast, bubbly (anti)chemistry, and a general understanding of adultery’s psychological consequences make this a decently entertaining and chilling time. Magpie will probably be a good pick for psych-thriller fans, Daisy Ridley fans, or those looking for a simple but pretty fun time.

Opens in limited theaters Friday, 10/25