The Messy, Hilarious Truth About Modern Love
There's a moment in the Splitsville trailer where Kyle Marvin's Carey, freshly dumped, stares blankly at his friends—Dakota Johnson's Julie and Michael Angelo Covino's Paul—as they explain the brilliant logic of their open marriage. His face says it all: This is either genius or a disaster. Spoiler: It's both.
Neon's latest comedy, which premiered at Cannes to quiet but enthusiastic buzz, isn't just another divorce romp. It's a film about the lies we tell ourselves to keep love alive—or at least tolerable. Covino, who co-wrote and directs, has a knack for mining humor from emotional trainwrecks (The Climb proved that). But Splitsville sneaks up on you. What starts as a breakup story morphs into a messy, surprisingly tender exploration of how love bends (and breaks) under pressure.
Why This Isn't Just Another Rom-Com
Shot on lush 35mm, the film looks like a throwback to the era of Annie Hall—if Woody Allen had embraced full-blown chaos. Covino favors long takes, letting scenes simmer until they boil over. The chemistry between Marvin and Covino (real-life friends and frequent collaborators) grounds the absurdity, while Adria Arjona's Ashley avoids the “villainous ex” trope with quiet, layered resentment.
And then there's Dakota Johnson, who—between Madame Web misfires and The Lost Daughter brilliance—continues to be Hollywood's most unpredictable wildcard. Here, she's magnetic as Julie, the kind of woman who suggests an open marriage with a smile that's equal parts seductive and terrifying.
The Inevitable Disaster
The trailer hints at the powder keg: Carey, in a moment of vulnerability (or stupidity), sleeps with Julie. Paul's reaction? Let's just say it involves fists, regret, and the kind of shouting match that neighbors definitely hear. What could've been a cheap farce instead feels painfully human—a comedy of errors where the biggest error is believing love has rules.
Splitsville opens in select theaters August 2nd, with a wide release on September 5th. Watch it with someone you trust. Or, better yet, someone you're pretty sure won't suggest an open marriage afterward.
