For longtime Shondaland writer and creator Paul William Davies, the inspiration behind “The Residence” didn’t come from a writers’ room or a breaking news headline—it came from a little-watched congressional hearing buried on YouTube. “I was watching a C-SPAN video of White House staff testifying about moving boxes during the Clinton administration,” Davies tells Awards Focus. “They put up a floor plan of the third floor, talking about the music room and the game room, and I just thought, ‘This is like a Clue board.’”
That late-night epiphany became the foundation for “The Residence,” Netflix’s genre-bending murder mystery set inside the most iconic house in America. The series opens with a dead body in the White House, yet in an era of political spectacle and scandal fatigue, the premise somehow feels less surreal than reality. Rather than mirror the daily chaos of the headlines, Davies opts for something that’s increasingly rare on television: a murder mystery that’s genuinely fun.
Davies, who previously wrote for “Scandal” and created “For the People,” has always been drawn to whodunnits. His daughter’s middle name is Agatha. “I love murder mysteries,” he says. “I’ve read them my whole life and watched them my whole life. It’s probably the genre I like the most.” With “The Residence,” that lifelong passion fuels a stylish, inventive series that blends classic detective tropes with sharp dialogue, class tension, and eccentric character work.
Each episode nods to a different iconic thriller, borrowing titles—and occasionally structure—but never feels like a pastiche. Instead, Davies uses those references as a creative springboard, reimagining the murder mystery through a distinctly modern, irreverent lens. At the center is Uzo Aduba’s Cordelia Cupp, a meticulous, socially awkward investigator who moonlights as a birder—an idiosyncratic trait borrowed from Davies’ own stepfather.
Aduba’s performance anchors the series, but she’s flanked by a cast loaded with generational comedic talent: Jane Curtin, Ken Marino, and Al Franken, among others. Davies delights in how their characters reveal the absurd mechanics of this fictionalized West Wing. “Once I saw Uzo and Jane together in the pilot,” he says, “I thought, ‘I want that pairing to be the last moment of the show.’”
In a conversation with Awards Focus, Davies opens up about turning a dusty piece of government testimony into one of the year’s most inventive series, how comedy became the key to unlocking tone, and whether Cordelia Cupp might return for another case—or two.
Awards Focus: First off, congratulations—the show is a terrific, fun ride. Where did the original idea or inspiration for “The Residence” come from?
Paul William Davies: Well, first of all, thank you. I really appreciate that. It started with the book “The Residence,” which Shondaland gave me a number of years ago. They asked me, kind of open-ended, “Hey, is there anything you think you could do with this? We found it interesting—maybe you would too. Is there a story here you’d be excited about?” I read it a couple of times and found it fascinating. It’s by Kate Anderson Brower, who did an amazing job—full of interesting anecdotes about the White House staff, the history, and the relationships between staff, presidents, and administrations. But I didn’t quite have a grip on a story yet.
It was only after doing more research that I had this, literally, late-night epiphany. I was watching a C-SPAN video of a congressional hearing from the 1990s, where the chief usher of the White House was testifying before the Senate Banking Committee. The video had something like 112 views on YouTube, but I was watching because I’d never spoken to a chief usher and didn’t know much about them. As they described moving boxes during the Clinton administration, they put up a floor plan of the third floor—talking about the music room, the game room—and I thought, “This is like a ‘Clue’ board.”
That was the moment. Maybe I could make this into a murder mystery—use all the fascinating material about relationships, the absurdity, the drama—but frame it as an old-school whodunnit. That idea wasn’t in the book, and probably not something they were expecting, but I pitched it, and they were excited. So that’s how I started building it. It was definitely an unexpected path.
AF: I don’t immediately associate Shondaland with riotous comedy, so I’m curious: was the source material at all comedic, or was that something you brought in with your adaptation?
Davies: There was nothing comedic about the source material—I shouldn’t say that, not intentionally so. But for me, when I was reading it, I really responded to the almost farcical elements of a big house like this, with an upstairs and a downstairs. To me, it felt more theatrical than the upstairs/downstairs dynamic—it kept making me think about the play “Noises Off,” which is all about on-stage and backstage chaos. Reading about how the White House operates just seemed inherently comedic to me, but that’s really my sensibility. You’re right, though, it’s probably not a “typical” Shondaland show. But the beauty of Shondaland is there isn’t really a typical—they’re open to different perspectives and takes. They’ve always known I lean comedic in my writing, and they were very receptive, even though this isn’t something they’ve really done before.
AF: Was it always your plan for “The Residence” to be a limited series? Did you ever consider making it a feature film or a longer network show?
Davies: I never thought about it as a feature. I did think of it, initially, as a limited series—one and done. But after I came up with the detective character Cordelia Cupp, I thought, “Maybe she could go off and have other adventures.” I love murder mysteries—I’ve read and watched them all my life. It’s always been a genre I gravitate toward. So once I created Cordelia, I did think she might be able to have more stories. As I got deeper into the writing, I started to think about the possibility of her returning in the future, like great detective fiction often does. We’re still talking about whether she might come back, but I definitely shifted away from thinking of it as just a limited series after she came into the picture.
AF: Uzo Aduba is amazing in this role, and it feels like you could center a universe around Cordelia Cupp. Was she your first choice, or how did the casting process unfold—not just for her, but for this incredibly stacked cast?
Davies: Yeah, she’s incredible. I didn’t write the role with her—or anyone else—in mind, not even as an archetype. I try not to picture actors when I’m writing so the characters can live in their own world. I’d written about six episodes before we started the casting process. But once we got into it, Uzo came up right away. We met with her, and she really sparked to the material. We’d never met before, but we had a great connection and saw the show and Cordelia similarly. It just felt right from the start. There were people I had in mind for some roles, and we went straight to them; others I didn’t know about until our amazing casting director, Meredith Tucker, introduced me. She’s a phenomenal partner. Thanks to Meredith and the whole Shondaland/Netflix team, we were able to assemble such a great cast.
AF: When you write characters without specific actors in mind and then see the cast bring them to life, did that process reshape any of the characters once you saw their performances or got into filming?
Davies: That’s a great question. Honestly, not so much—except that I did still have two or three episodes left to write, so for some people, I started to write to their strengths a bit more. Sometimes it was just about volume: with Al Franken, for instance, when we cast him and saw how available he was and how much he enjoyed the material, I wrote more for that character. Same thing with Kylie Minogue and Jane Curtin. I tried to work them into the show as much as I could because they were so great and so game. Sometimes, seeing pairings helped: when I saw Uzo and Jane together in the pilot, I knew I wanted Jane’s character, Nan Cox, to be the last person Cordelia sees in the finale. That wasn’t planned from the start; it came from seeing their dynamic. So it was more forward-looking than retrofitting lines or scenes to match the actors. The cast really responded to the material and played it as written, though I did make some adjustments going forward.
AF: I’m glad you mentioned Al Franken. When he showed up, I was genuinely surprised and happy. Have you gotten any pushback or reactions to his casting?
Davies: Everything I’ve heard has been great. I’m not on social media much, and I don’t really read a lot about the show—it’s just not how I’m wired. But I’ve gotten emails, calls, texts—so I’m not in a total bubble. Everyone I’ve heard from has been happy to see him on screen and thought he was great. The folks working with him enjoyed it too. It was a really good experience for all of us, and I think he had a great time. It’s the biggest thing he’s done in front of the camera, outside of being a Senator.
AF: It’s bold casting, and it really pays off. I noticed all of your episodes are named after famous mysteries. Are there any specific references or Easter eggs in the respective episodes that tie back to those films?
Davies: Some of them are pretty obvious, so I don’t know how “Easter egg” they are. For example, “The Fall of the House”—the house in that story splits in half and dissolves, which doesn’t quite happen with the White House, but I liked the alignment with the usher dying and the division within the house, which Jasmine Watson’s character talks about. The title really works on multiple levels, besides referencing a foundational mystery/horror story. With “Dial M for Murder,” the phone plays a fundamental part in Cordelia’s big revelation, much as it does in the movie, even if the references aren’t exact. “The Third Man” has lots of nods, even in how we shot parts of the episode. Each episode references its film either thematically, tonally, or visually, or sometimes just as inspiration for constructing the story. The finale, “The Mystery of the Yellow Room,” is the classic locked-room mystery, and I wanted to bring things down to the Yellow Oval Room partly as a nod to that. It wasn’t coincidental—I realized I could have the body moved there, giving it that “locked room” feel, which tied in with things I learned about the White House renovations. That’s probably the most direct reference.
AF: There’s satire, class commentary, and some genuine emotional arcs woven through the show. How do you decide when to lean into comedy or pull back for more drama to keep the right tonal balance?
Davies: That’s a great question, and I’m not sure I always know. I think it’s just instinct—it’s the way I am. Nothing is just one thing in life, and things can turn quickly from comedy to drama and back again. For me, it’s about navigating the story the way I experience life. What was really lovely as the writer was that I never got pressure from Shondaland or Netflix to make it more comedic or dramatic—they trusted me to find the right tone. For example, in episode four, I take a digression into a story about Cornelia’s trip with her nephew, which is totally distinct from the rest of the show. It just felt right at that point. No one told me I needed to get out of the White House or do an origin story; it came naturally from the writing. That trust and creative freedom meant a lot. My favorite movies do more than one thing—like “Charade,” which is romantic, comedic, and a tight mystery. I guess I just try to do the same.
AF: You’ve got some true legends of comedy and improv in your cast—Jane Curtin, for example, going back to SNL. Was there any improvisation that made it into the final cut?
Davies: Honestly, there was very little. There was some—Ken Marino, Spencer Garrett, Dan Franklin, Isaiah Whitlock, and a few others, especially in scenes where “the dudes” are riffing. There were points where they let loose, and maybe a few lines got added here and there, but overall, they really stuck to the script. That’s how I like to work, and Shondaland is like that too. Everyone knew going in that we’d keep things pretty strictly to the script, partly because of how meticulously the mystery was designed, with all the flashbacks and flashforwards. There was probably room for more improv, but the nature of the show demanded tight control. Still, the cast enjoyed working this way and liked what they were given, even those who are used to doing more improv.
AF: That’s the mark of a strong script. If you had to pick one episode to submit to the Emmys for Best Comedy consideration, which would it be, and what about that episode best embodies the spirit of the show you’re hoping audiences take away?
Davies: That’s an excellent question. It is a bit like choosing among your children, but I’d probably say the finale—episode 108. It’s kind of epic. Uzo is incredible in it, and there are a lot of great comedic moments—Uzo, Isaiah, and Randall in the library, trying to figure out what to do about Jasmine, and a scene between Randall and Isaiah that I just think is hilarious. Jason Lee, who’s funny throughout, gives a brilliant five-minute monologue about what he did over the course of the night. But there’s also real emotion—about Winter and what he meant to the house and what this house means for the country. Even the opening of 108, where you learn more about Winter’s background, adds depth. In terms of scope, it covers so many parts of the show, and you get callbacks to earlier episodes. Between the comedy and those brilliant, emotional moments, especially with Jane Curtin in the final scenes, I’d have to go with episode 108.
AF: Sounds like a great choice. Thank you so much for your time, Paul. Congratulations on the show—it’s been wonderful, and I know audiences have been very receptive.
Davies: I really enjoyed it. Thank you so much.