When a fatal car crash interrupts a spontaneous moment of intimacy between married couple Ashley (Adria Arjona) and Carey (Kyle Marvin) and prompts the former to announce that she wants a divorce, it’s clear that the pair are ‘headed for Splitsville’, as the saying goes. The opening credits roll as a stunned Carey bolts from the car and traverses – hilariously – fields, forests and rivers to seek sanctuary at the swanky beach house owned by his childhood best friend, Paul (Michael Angelo Covino, who also directed and co-wrote the film) and his wife, Julie (Dakota Johnson). The rest of the film continues in this uproariously funny vein, with jokes flying constantly throughout its 105-minute runtime.
Paul is an NYC real estate bro and Julie is an independent pottery business owner, and together they try to comfort the shaken Carey. Divorce isn’t so bad, they say, when, as in Carey and Ashley’s case, there are no kids or money involved, and neither for that matter are open relationships – Paul and Julie reveal they are ‘not monogamous’ and claim to place their emotional and spiritual connection above the physical. Though initially sceptical of this, Carey opens his mind to the idea and the following night, he sleeps with Julie while Paul is away working in New York. Unable to keep it a secret, though, he tells Paul the next morning, resulting in a ten-minute fight of slapstick proportions, which is a highlight of the film. Slaps and punches escalate to eyebrow scorching and stair tumbles as the two brawl their way around the expensively furnished home, destroying tables, walls, windows and more along the way. If it wasn't already clear that this is a comedy about male pride, this display of battling egos drives that point home.
So begins a long, messy series of sexual and emotional entanglements, punctuated throughout with many physical, visual and verbal jokes performed well by the four leads. The longtime friendship and writing partnership between Covino and Marvin (Marvin co-wrote this film and they made 2019’s The Climb together) is felt in their easy delivery of dialogue, and though the film revolves more around the (often pathetic) male characters, a radiant Arjona and perfectly deadpan Johnson elevate what they’re given. A jaunty jazz score from David Wingo and Dabney Morris conveys the light, harmless tone the film strikes throughout.
Another highlight is a scene in the film’s third act, where Carey tells Ashley he’s been thinking of hiring a clown for Paul and Julie’s pre-teen son, Russ’s (Simon Webster) birthday party. Ashley responds saying that Russ is too old for clowns, but then Succession’s Nicholas Braun turns up at the party instead, playing a hilariously exasperated mentalist performing for the unconvinced children. This birthday party is the film’s attempt to untangle the web somewhat as characters and storylines converge, but at this point the audience can only put up with the farce for so long. The characters have had their fun now and the film’s ending turns out to be quite an inconclusive one. No real insight or conclusions are offered as to the possibilities or impact (especially if children are involved) of polyamory in modern relationships.
Splitsville therefore amounts to a largely shallow affair, but is a thoroughly entertaining time all the same. In a reflection of today's world, gone are the days of the sugary, good-natured rom-com, and in are the days of the toxic, subversive anti-rom-com. Along with films like 2025’s gnarly horror romance Together or the cynical matchmaking movie Materialists (also starring Dakota Johnson), Splitsville, described as an ‘unromantic comedy’, is another welcome entry into this most modern of genres.
