Something is wrong with Winifred Notty. This is evident from the moment we meet her, despite Winifred’s (Maika Monroe) assurance that ​“I’m the sanest person I’ve ever met.” The young governess arrives at Ensor House with the very best of intentions after a series of setbacks in her previous places of employ – she assures the audience that this time, things will be different. She will tutor the young Pounds children – Andrew (Jacobi Jupe) and Drusilla (Evie Templeton) – ensuring they turn out ​“smart, but not too smart” per the instruction of their parents John (Jason Isaacs) and Emily (Ruth Wilson). That is, if Winifred can keep her bloodthirsty urges at bay.

Following two strong features, Zachary Wigon’s third film – based on the novel of the same name by Virginia Feito, who also adapted it for the screen – also focuses on a female protagonist with interesting predilections. The audience quickly learns that Winifred’s previous jobs have been somewhat plagued by her murderous tendencies. She’s decamped to the Yorkshire Moors after her previous wards invariably met tragic ends; the Pounds’ family nurse, Sarah Lamb (Thomasin McKenzie), is grateful to have a new colleague, even if Winifred’s arrival is soon followed by the mysterious disappearance of the estate gardener and rumours of a ​“ghoul” living in the woods.

It’s obvious that Feito’s novel (and by extension this film) owe a significant debt of gratitude to Bret Easton Ellis’ 1991 novel ​‘American Psycho’ and Mary Harron’s 2000 adaptation which has become a cult classic, yet where that narrative served as a pointed satire of yuppie culture and American consumerism, it’s difficult to say what exactly Feito and Wigon are attempting to take aim at here. Winifred constantly refers to the ​“darkness” within her that comes out in fits of murderous rage – a darkness she soon sees reflected in her young charge Drusilla – and delights in retaliating with violence at the slightest inconvenience. In the film’s third act a weak explanation is offered for her madness, but it’s a sour cliché that only serves to reenforce how derivative and tired Victoria Psycho​’s ideas are. It’s a story that might have been novel a decade or so back, but feels so broadly Girl Power and afraid of genuine transgression its scenes are rendered forgettable from one to the next.

The intervening years since the Victorian era have revealed the rampant misogyny that women faced; charitably Victorian Psycho is a reaction to the gendered violence that was seen as an acceptable response whenever a woman did something as innocuous as hiccup longer than normal. But this satire is too broad and comes too late to be effective; even the kills themselves feel uninspired. There are some fun flourishes in Nico Aguilar’s camerawork and the snappy editing from Dustin Chow and Lance Edmands, but it’s misstep for Wigon, who showed such originality and promise with The Heart Machine and Sanctuary.