-The contrived way the evidence is destroyed with the computer breaking/Wyatt Russell ignoring an opportunity to clarify the story, just continues the narrative when a simple solution exists. It's annoying.
-Having Adams as a child psychologist who diagnoses the wrong traits in the neighbor's son has been done before, but it's also not a process that's explored here, and it should be, because attending to her own skewed impressions could assist in granting shades to her characterization.
-The Big Speech explanation from the son doesn't make a lick of sense. Too many stars needed to align for this confidence to work- how could he know that she was a 'perfect next victim' from hearing her story from the real estate broker? How could he know how to 'play' her? Everything he did to get a sympathetic reaction was based on her work as a stable child therapist rather than an unstable delusional woman who killed her own family by accident... so that 'reveal' works counter to the information we were presented with vs. withheld and made much more sense before any kind of Twist introduced. Isn't that the opposite of how this is supposed to work?
-And what a strange application of the stars aligning with his mother to add into the mix. An absolutely pointless inclusion, when he was an aspiring serial killer plotting outside of her random appearance, yet the happenstance of her showing up was the main focal point of the narrative and helped facilitate him covering up his murders. That he doesn't even acknowledge this as convenient in that Scooby Doo confession only makes the denouement less coherent.
-What a waste of Gary Oldman! His casting is a good red herring I guess, but I can't help but wonder if his character had more to do in the original script to help make the mystery more compelling.
-The CGI at the end on the roof is godawful. Oh, how kEwL, a garden hoe through the cheek! Too bad it looks like shit.
-Brian Tyree Henry is the worst cop ever, not for botching the case by disbelieving Adams (which is entirely sensible, no clue why he's apologizing at the end) but for covering up a suicide visual essay for a suicidal woman with a history of suicide attempts. In his defense, nobody, especially not Tracy Letts, is a good therapist in this film, so within the internal logic of the film's milieu it's acceptable that everyone is playing Doctor and Cop to absurdist lengths (though when someone with my job can afford a spacious apt in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, you already know it's a fantasy world).
-I should have never made a pledge to be an Amy Adams completist.