‘Splitsville’ review: Dakota Johnson and Adria Arjona play love rivals in partner-swap comedy

Dir: Michael Angelo Covino. US. 2025. 105mins

One open marriage ends up wreaking havoc on two couples in Splitsville. Like director/co-writer/star Michael Angelo Covino’s 2019 debut, The Climb, this follow-up examines the impossibility of romantic commitment and the difficulties of male friendship once one friend sleeps with the other’s wife. But while this new film is that rare visually striking indie comedy, the clever dialogue and potentially provocative scenarios eventually fizzle, resulting in an unfocused commentary on the absurdity of modern love that is, itself, far removed from reality.

An unfocused commentary on the absurdity of modern love 

The Climb launched at Cannes in Un Certain Regard, and Splitsville bows in the festival’s Premiere section. Co-starring Dakota Johnson and Adria Arjona, the film hits US theatres in August through Neon, and sold to multiple territories ahead of its debut. Good notices together with a strong cast could lure arthouse crowds during that fallow time.

As the film begins, Carey (Kyle Marvin) and Ashley (Arjona) are driving when Ashley admits to Carey that she wants a divorce after just 14 months of marriage — and that she’s been cheating on him. (In an early indication of Splitsville’s quirky sense of humour and visual panache, Ashley’s revelation is a byproduct of a failed blow job and a deadly car crash.) Devastated, Carey turns to his best friend Paul (Covino) and his wife Julie (Johnson), who reveal that they have an open marriage, which they insist keeps them from ever splitting up as there’s no guilt about seeking other sexual partners. Carey doesn’t know what to think — especially after a consolotary Julie starts kissing him, leading to them secretly sleeping together.

Fans of The Climb will see many of the same elements in Splitsville. Once again, Covino plays the more obnoxious alpha-male of the slightly-contentious best friends, while Marvin handles the sensitive, romantic role. This new film doesn’t feature as many intricate single-take set pieces, but Covino again creates dynamic scenes that are not simply characters in a room talking to one another. Whether it’s an elaborately staged, comedically violent fistfight between Carey and Paul or a sequence that dramatises an unexpected development in Carey and Ashley’s relationship, Splitsville sports elegant tracking shots and smart, unshowy compositions.

Covino and Marvin, longtime friends and collaborators, co-wrote Splitsville’s screenplay, which demonstrates a continued interest in laying bare the competitiveness inherent in male friendship. Once Paul learns that Carey slept with Julie, it ignites a feud between the two men, creating a romantic triangle that becomes more complicated after Carey suggests to Ashley that they try a similar arrangement. The filmmakers want to satirise the confusion of modern romance by showcasing just how ill-equipped these four people are for non-traditional relationships, and for a while Splitsville intrigues as we see Carey, Ashley, Paul and Julie strain to reassure themselves that they’ve found happiness.

Unfortunately, the picture loses its way once the romantic entanglements pile up. Unguarded emotional moments are stacked uncomfortably next to unconvincing comedic sequences, which ask the characters to behave in ways that aren’t organic to the people we’ve come to know. The machinations of this multipronged love story — with unfunny new romantic interests introduced and old pairings rekindling their passion — begin to feel arbitrary. As writers, Covino and Marvin still possess a knack for the shockingly brutal line or the bluntly honest declaration, but the plot’s busyness overshadows any points they are trying to make.

Johnson invests Julie with common sense and an air of chronic dissatisfaction, but Arjona is the most stranded of the quartet, her character’s decisions becoming increasingly far-fetched. Recalling his gentle-giant performance in The Climb, Marvin sweetly articulates Carey’s thwarted masculinity and wounded pride, although Splitsville hasn’t hit on a satisfying arc for that character — or, frankly, any of the others.