Splitsville, 2025.
Directed by Michael Angelo Covino.
Starring Dakota Johnson, Adria Arjona, Michael Angelo Covino, Kyle Marvin, Simon Webster, Charlie Gillespie, David Castañeda, O-T Fagbenle, Nahéma Ricci, Tyrone Benskin, Nicholas Braun, and Leo Hennely.
SYNOPSIS:
When Ashley asks for a divorce, the good-natured Carey runs to his friends, Julie and Paul, for support. Their secret to happiness is an open marriage; that is, until Carey crosses the line and throws all of their relationships into chaos.
Writing/directing/acting duo Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin are very funny filmmakers and actors, and that remains true in their sophomore feature, Splitsville (which deals with similar themes as 2019’s hysterical The Climb). Whatever jokes are on the page mostly (keyword mostly) carry over and land in execution in front of the camera. However, Splitsville appears to be aiming for something deeper, but it falls short, mainly because everything ultimately comes back to an attempt at comedy. In some cases, what the filmmakers think is funny is indeed darkly comedic, yet perhaps wrong for this story.
Case in point, a couple inadvertently gets another couple on the road in a wreck, playing off one of their deaths as a joke. It’s also relatively easy to place blame, as life coach Ashley (Adria Arjona), bored with her sex life with the perfectly nice but, well, boring Carey (Kyle Marvin), decides that this is the appropriate time for sexual experimentation. To Carey, experimenting is signing up for a pottery class. To her, that would be an activity. Nevertheless, Ashley insists on pleasuring Carey while he drives them to his best friend’s expensive lake house, which is amusing and fine (there will be no kink shaming here), until an innocent person dies. It is a tragic event that the film brushes off entirely, eager to transition into more situational comedy, which, thankfully, is less sour; nevertheless, it’s hard not to feel that things have already been soured.
That’s also a shame, since, from that point on, Splitsville is filled with laughs and inventive gags (and crafty blocking from cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra, who waits for the right moment to add additional visual gags), including a full-on wrestling match inside the lake house home between its male best friends.
Upon listening to Ashley’s confession that she has been sleeping around with other men and that they should get divorced, Carey runs the rest of the way to that house, seeking comfort within Paul (Michael Angelo Covino), married to Julie (Dakota Johnson) with a child, Russ (Simon Webster). Despite their wealth and family, they face their own marital complications, which have been resolved through an open relationship. They don’t ask each other about any details or even who the partner is, and agree that neither of them has any right to get upset about it.
It turns out that everything Paul isn’t, Carey is. The former is either obsessively working a finance job or off “in the city” (code for engaging in an affair) and struggles to commit to any family plans, such as a trip to an amusement park.. Carey has been asking Ashley to have a child, yet she isn’t interested. Naturally, he comes across as a fun, dependable father figure to Russ and the polar opposite of Paul in personality. It’s not long before Carey and Julie have sex.
The next morning, Carey confesses to Paul what happened the night before, and all hell breaks loose with the previously mentioned lengthy brawl around the home, which would slide right into a solid action movie, and is reminiscent of Peter Griffin’s seemingly never-ending battles with an anthropomorphic chicken on Family Guy. Now that’s the kind of cartoonish, heightened, absurd humor that works for Splitsville, tapping into male fragility, jealousy, perceived betrayal, and unjustified anger.
Carey also tags along with Julie and Russ at the amusement park, which brings forth another intriguing dynamic, as she is still inclined to flirt with other men. He believes that their having sex means something, while also getting defensive of her behavior on behalf of Paul. The rightful question that Julie then asks is whether that reaction is genuinely in response to emotions over his best friend or jealousy. It’s an interesting angle to take the movie, and one that demands insightful interrogations of relationship dynamics, introspection, and more. Disappointingly, Splitsville becomes a comedy about scorned partners trying to make things right and win back their lovers. Yes, that means the tired cliché that Ashley realizes she took Carey for granted comes into play. Around halfway through, there are still laughs, but also much wasted potential.
The other significant downside is that, for a film about exploring open relationships, Splitsville isn’t that sexy or sexual. When it does try to be, it either cuts away or somehow turns that into a joke. At times, Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin feel in over their heads, unsure of what to say about open relationships other than take the story and characters in a circular direction rather than reach something transgressive. There are also reveals that cheapen the open relationship aspect.
To say what would be wading into spoiler territory, but by the end, Splitsville feels unexpectedly safe and familiar in its plotting, and frustratingly predictable. It’s still consistently funny, reveling in the outrageous chaos, but it never grapples with relationships (open or otherwise) as much as it believes it does. In all its comedy, the film loses sight of searching for anything resembling emotional truths.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
