Netflix kicked off 2026 with a bang, dropping the highly anticipated limited series "His & Hers" on January 8. Starring Tessa Thompson and Jon Bernthal, the show promised a gripping blend of murder mystery, marital drama, and Southern noir. But did it deliver on its potential, or did it get lost in a crowded field of streaming thrillers? As critics from TIME and The Hollywood Reporter have weighed in, viewers are left with a series that’s as much about its tone and structure as it is about whodunit.
"His & Hers" is based on the bestselling novel by Alice Feeney, a British author known for her twisty, character-driven suspense. For the Netflix adaptation, creator and director William Oldroyd, recognized for his darkly atmospheric films Lady Macbeth and Eileen, moved the action from the UK to the lush, cost-effective filming grounds of Georgia. The result is a six-episode arc set in the small town of Dahlonega, about an hour outside Atlanta—a place that, until now, has never seen a murder quite like this one.
The series centers on Anna Andrews, played by Tessa Thompson, a former Atlanta news anchor whose career has stalled following a personal tragedy. When a woman from her hometown is found stabbed multiple times and eerily staged with a taunting message, Anna sees an opportunity to reclaim her professional standing. She returns to Dahlonega, determined to break the story and, perhaps, mend some of the wounds she left behind.
Jon Bernthal co-stars as Jack Harper, a detective and Dahlonega native who’s tasked with investigating the gruesome crime. Jack, who once worked in Atlanta, finds himself back on familiar turf—only to discover that the case is anything but routine. As fate would have it, both Anna and Jack have ties to the victim, Rachel Hopkins, a connection that quickly places them under suspicion and knots the investigation into a tangle of personal and professional motives.
The cast is rounded out by Pablo Schreiber as Richard, a cameraman (and the husband of Anna’s on-air rival Lexy, played by Rebecca Rittenhouse), Sunita Mani as Jack’s partner Priya, Crystal Fox as Anna’s mother Alice, and Marin Ireland as Jack’s sister Zoe. Each character is drawn into the web of secrets, lies, and old resentments that define the show’s world.
On paper, "His & Hers" has all the ingredients of a binge-worthy thriller: a star-studded cast, a moody Southern setting, and a plot brimming with sex, violence, ambition, and mutual mistrust. According to TIME, the series “promisingly casts Tessa Thompson and Jon Bernthal as estranged spouses who suspect each other of murdering a woman they both knew.” The premise echoes the cat-and-mouse dynamics of films like Mr. & Mrs. Smith, with the added tension of a small-town murder investigation.
But as critics have noted, the execution doesn’t always live up to the promise. The Hollywood Reporter describes the show as “the first disappointment of the new year,” pointing to a lack of chemistry between Thompson and Bernthal and a finale that “faceplants” with two unsatisfying endings. The review laments that the series “is, at least until the actively irritating finale, more generic than overtly bad, calling to mind various forgettable Netflix limited series filmed in Southern tax havens and forgotten by all but television critics.”
One of the show’s biggest challenges, according to TIME, is its inconsistent tone. Oldroyd, who made his name with psychological thrillers, can’t seem to decide whether "His & Hers" is a self-aware black comedy, a poignant drama, or a straight-up thriller. The result is a series that veers between arch humor and grim trauma, never quite settling into a distinctive mood. “Arch at some moments and grim at others, the show ultimately works as neither a self-aware black comedy nor a poignant exploration of the not-at-all-funny traumas it uncovers,” TIME observes.
The structure of the show also comes in for criticism. The original novel alternates between the perspectives of Anna and Jack, inviting viewers to question their reliability and motives. The series, however, opts for an omniscient narrator who delivers “ominous clichés that, like everything in His & Hers, border on parody,” as The Hollywood Reporter puts it. The first episode opens with the line: “There are at least two sides to every story. Yours and mine. Ours and theirs. His and hers. Which means someone is always lying.” But instead of deepening the mystery, the narration feels artificial and redundant, failing to pull viewers into the psychological labyrinth the book promised.
Despite these missteps, the performances manage to shine in places. Thompson brings a mix of intensity and vulnerability to Anna, channeling some of the tragic energy she displayed in her acclaimed stage turn as Hedda Gabler. Her scenes with Bernthal, while criticized for lack of chemistry, still pulse with the bitterness and unresolved pain of two people bound by shared loss and suspicion. Supporting players like Sunita Mani and Marin Ireland add flashes of humor and pathos, even as their characters are often defined by convenient tropes—Priya as the exasperated partner, Zoe as the sister struggling with alcoholism, and Alice as the mother suffering from dementia.
The show’s visual style, courtesy of Oldroyd and director Anja Marquardt, is glossy and self-aware, sometimes at odds with the Southern realism of its setting. Scenes are often lit for maximum drama, reminding viewers that this is, above all, a television murder mystery. For some, this heightened aesthetic adds to the fun; for others, it only underscores the artificiality of the plot’s many contrivances.
“The murder victim just happens to be Anna’s high-school frenemy, Jack just happens to have his own relationship with the victim, and Jack and Anna just happen to be married,” The Hollywood Reporter points out. These coincidences, while standard fare for the genre, are stacked so high that they threaten to topple the story’s credibility. The show’s attempts at misdirection and suspense often fall flat, with critics noting that neither Anna nor Jack ever feels like a genuine suspect—a missed opportunity for truly engaging drama.
Yet for all its flaws, "His & Hers" offers moments of dark pleasure. Anna’s rivalry with Lexy is “as gleefully bitchy as anything on The Morning Show,” and the series doesn’t shy away from exploring the power dynamics of sex, ambition, and betrayal. The murder itself is staged with a pulp sensibility—blood-soaked dresses, cryptic messages, and flashbacks to mean-girl high school days—that will satisfy fans of the genre looking for a stylish, if ultimately hollow, ride.
In a crowded streaming landscape, tone and originality are everything. "His & Hers" boasts the pedigree, cast, and source material to stand out, but it never quite finds its footing. As TIME concludes, “A little bit of quality control, a little extra care when it came to editing scripts and crafting characters and establishing an evocative atmosphere, would have gone a long way.” Instead, viewers are left with a watchable but empty thriller—one that may be forgotten as quickly as it appeared, but which, for a brief moment, gave us something to talk about on a cold January night.
