Splitsville

When Carey's wife asks him for a divorce, he runs to his friends for support and discovers that the key to their happiness is an open marriage. That is, until Carey crosses the line and throws all of their relationships into chaos.

Modern dating is a turbulent ride; with an ever-growing range of relationship dynamics becoming increasingly more popular, the baby boomers and traditionalists among us are left befuddled, and the same can be said for the audience of Splitsville. This screwball comedy is by no means an ad for romantic modernity; if anything, it counteracts new explorations of love and suggests that all these characters truly need is hours of therapy. But without their frustrating and erratic choices, there'd be no plot to chuckle at.

Take 2. Filmmaking duo and real-life best buds Kyle Marvin and Michael Angelo Covino reunite after the making of their dramedy The Climb (2019). In Splitsville, they star in their latest picture with a similar premise that's centred around a best friend who oversteps the mark and commits "infidelity". Their partners, Ashley (Adria Arjora) and Julie (Dakota Johnson), offer subplots to showcase those who choose to dabble in contemporary romance and those who are persuaded to go along with it, giving insight into what it means to have one's cake and eat it too.

Is it really about open relationships? Smothering love is no picnic, nor is single life, and Splitsville demonstrates the sacrifices one must make when they decide which camp is more fitting - hence, opting for the middle-ground; however, all roads in Splitsville lead to die-hard monogamy. Would it be nice to see this group of erratic, self-indulgent Americans diversify and succeed in open relationships? Sure. Is this film as explorative as it suggests? No. Instead, its liberality is motivated by jealousy and insecurity; a not-so-niche experience acting as the driving force for the silly shenanigans.

While each character's peculiar choices are somewhat understood, their actions become farcical and slightly far-fetched; wants begin to yo-yo and testosterone aggressively flies, making it difficult to root for them. An extra-long, technical fight scene and multiple penis shots with no real purpose are sandwiched in, which confusingly reads as "look what I can do" and "look what I have" - sidelining the wit and emphasising the stupid in a bid to prioritise genre over story, causing rationale and believability to lag behind.

Dakota Johnson. It seems that Johnson has become the leading lady in the rocky rom-com category; from Materialists to Am I OK? And How to Be Single — she stumbled into a pigeonhole similar to Kevin Hart and The Rock, and only time will tell if she'll climb back out. That being said, she acts mostly as a saving grace in Splitsville, being the only one who has her head screwed on, whereas the other characters fall victim to being "too much", whether that's too pathetic, indecisive, or idiotic. Julie becomes a loosely reliable anchor in the narrative and stops us from floating too far away.

The real stars. It's a shame the story orbits around Carey and Paul when Ashley and Julie are far more complex and interesting. They're the backbones of the feeble men for a reason, yet screentime is heavily spent on the limp pair as they turn less likable, continuing to slap and betray each other in the name of comedy.

It's not that deep. For a film centered around heartbreak, their hearts seem relatively intact; however, their minds lose the plot. Chemistry might be lacking, but overall, it's really not that serious. A couple of laughs are guaranteed, as are a couple of headshakes as Covino and Marvin attempt to become the next Ferrell and Reilly. All in all, it's a well-intended, fun commentary on modern dating, targeted at those who believe the grass is greener, because "you never know what something's worth until you sink it."