“No, I’m fine” is a refrain often voiced by the four central characters in Michael Angelo Covino’s Splitsville. It surfaces in moments of emotional strain, when nonchalance becomes a defense mechanism and a show of strength—the posture of someone who wants to appear more resilient (or more desirable). The two couples in Splitsville test the boundaries of their relationships—by opening them—insisting that everything is fine, when it’s really, really not.
Covino, together with his cowriter and longtime friend Kyle Marvin, first broke out with The Climb (2019), anatomizing male friendship. With this new project, the duo turns their attention to modern marriage, probing the ways people avoid voicing their feelings once the terms of a relationship are set.
The first of six chapters unfolds with the bright-eyed gym teacher Carey, played by Marvin, singing a duet with his new wife, Ashley (Adria Arjona). On the road, an unbuckled Ashley starts getting frisky with Carey in an attempt to inject some sexual energy into the relationship. Stopping this in its tracks is a brutal car crash that leaves a man half-conscious and a woman dead (all the while, Carey is still exposed, setting the tone for this screwball comedy). But this isn’t the most jarring incident for Carey when it’s paired with a startling confession: Ashley wants a divorce.
Carey flees and treks his way to a beach house, where his friend Paul (Covino) and his wife, Julie (Dakota Johnson), greet them. At first, they console him, but the night ends with them bragging about opening up their marriage. Paul jokes that even Carey could sleep with Julie, and he wouldn’t get mad; well they do, and he does. It leads to an all-out brawl that destroys the beautiful Hamptons home and incites a saga of deceit and concession—a complicated web of love. This is bolstered when Carey returns home to open his relationship to save his marriage. The pain of befriending Ashley’s new roster of lovers pales in comparison to the thought of divorce.
It might be expected from the minds behind The Climb’s bromance, but Splitsville underplays Arjona and Johnson, whose characters shine when given the time, but don’t engage enough in the absurd comedy. Still, Splitsville is a hell of a ride, where each character faces off with the fear of commitment, of honesty, and of vulnerability. The rigmarole of this modern marriage delivers a few gut punches, and despite breaking up its momentum by breaking it into six chapters, Marvin and Covino know how to keep the spark alive. R, 100 min.
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