The Roses Review

Welcome to the year of the romcom! Much has been made of the genre’s disappearance from the theatrical experience. True, they still flood streaming services, with Netflix distributing the best of recent years in Richard Linklater’s Hit Man. But with the exception of Anyone But You, few have made any noise either at the box office or broader culture in the decade so far, no matter the talent involved. So when Materialists opened to lots of discussion online and healthy receipts early in the summer, it was a bit of a surprise, despite the pedigree of its director. Of course, that movie settled somewhere between a proper romcom and a deconstruction, intellectualizing a genre that has historically reveled in a simplistic structure focused on watching two beautiful people bicker into love. So The Roses coming at the end of the summer is a perfect mirror image; while also an anti-romcom of sorts, leaning hard into its darkly comedic premise, it’s perfectly comfortable with what it is.

That isn’t to say that writer Tony McNamara’s screenplay is vapid. Its primary focus is to entertain you, as demonstrated by the large ensemble cast and bombastic climactic set piece, a rarity for a modern romcom. While the conceit inherently lends itself to an exploration of the difficulties of sustaining a marriage over the long term, it doesn’t take much to notice all he’s injecting about masculinity, gender roles, child rearing, power struggles, and more. Some of that is eventually spelled out, but much is left in the background, allowing you to engage with it as you see fit. In this way, McNamara makes an effective argument for this film’s existence: despite sharing a source novel with the 1989 blockbuster The War of the Roses, the central idea is where their similarities stop, situating The Roses as a complete reimagining and wholly his own.

It begins with a trend that continues to grate on me: the short, in medias res cold open that prematurely shows us where the story is going. At least this one is hilarious, as Ivy and Theo Rose (Olivia Coleman and Benedict Cumberbatch) read off lists of the ten things they most love about each other, with her’s ending “Theo, what a cunt”. But then the story proper starts, jumping to their strange yet electric meet cute (“But we haven’t even had sex yet!” “That’s mere minutes away.”), before settling in ten years into their marriage. Theo is a successful architect whose unorthodox but beautiful museum redesign is about to go up in Mendocino, CA, and Ivy is about to start her own restaurant at his urging. A tropical storm flips their career trajectories over the course of a single night, rocketing her to fame and him to reluctant stay-at-home dad, sowing the seeds of resentment that will blossom over the next three years.

For us to actually care about the dissolution of their relationship, we must first be invested in it, which is one of the smart changes from the original. Although we know it’s all going to fall apart, their chemistry is undeniable from the moment they meet. Their ambition, shared dark sense of humor, and overall passion (both for their work and for each other) make them a perfect match. They remain supportive of each other even as their frustrating deepens. As such, we stay attuned to their actions and reactions, granting their every look added weight. Director Jay Roach does an excellent job of letting small moments speak for themselves, and choosing the times to let us (but not each other) see instants of despair. Whereas the original’s protagonists were cartoon characters, this version sees the Roses as flawed but human. They struggle to communicate their true feelings, and are reticent to admit fault. But even in their darkest moments (and oh boy, do they get dark), you’d be hard-pressed to overlook the love they still have for each other.

Some of the subplots and side characters strike an odd tone, however. The screenplay retains one of the odder bits of the original, in which Ivy lets the kids eat copious amounts of sugar, and Theo worries they’ll get fat. At least it plays into the couple’s conflict this time, as Theo’s anxiety over the kids’ health turns them into fitness obsessives who Ivy can barely recognize or relate to. The same goes for the usage of Barry and Amy (Andy Samberg and Kate McKinnon), close friends of the Roses and a delightfully strange couple. Their clashing energies crackle with a refusal to acknowledge how awkward their relationship is. Barry is a golden retriever of a man, and Amy is of a piece with what we’ve come to expect from McKinnon: aloof, socially oblivious, and uncomfortably forward. Sometimes it’s hilarious, but at other times it results in a brow furrowed by confusion. Each supporting character feels like that to one degree or another; not completely out of place, but at times miscalculated. It works for the humor, often eliciting laughs from its audacity, but the many occasions it feels forced distract from the drama.

The element that more consistently fails in the pacing. There are too many beats that are carefully set up, only to be paid off in either a montage or a small moment that’s barely acknowledged. For example, although the story begins with Theo pushing hard for his museum redesign, he faces a bunch of resistance due to its unorthodox design. We see him arguing for it, we see how much it means to him, how anguished he is over it. And then, before we know it, it’s been built. Sure, its fundamental plot purpose is to collapse in dramatic (and hilarious) fashion, but the emotional build to sudden conclusion is jarring. The same issue is most palpable in a few mini-arcs later in the story, featuring a handful of large moments that are tossed off as if they were nothing. It’s stands in stark contrast to how much of the film shows the gradual degradation of their relationship, making the payoff of all the boiling discontent feel incredibly sudden and unsatisfying.

As a detractor of the original for its failure on numerous dimensions (despite its tremendous box office success), this is the best kind of remake. The premise of the story is excellent and lends itself to the big screen, but DeVito’s execution left me unimpressed. That is, remaking it doesn’t feel like returning to a well that’s run dry, as there’s so much more that can be done besides just updating its sensibilities. Sure, this go around is far from perfect, but it’s a blast from start to finish, and provides much deeper and more poignant insights into its characters. They are broken people, a fact they’re very much aware of, even if their competitive drive causes them forget it in the heat of battle. There’s no question how they got here, and little room for audiences to dismiss their conflict as unrealistic. It goes to bonkers places, sure, but it’s rooted in relatable emotional truth that will leave you thinking about your own relationships. For a romcom to linger like that is a rare thing in 2025, and it deserves to be cherished for that fact alone.