The Roses

If you’ve ever wanted to watch two of Britain’s most decorated actors turn a multi-million dollar estate into a literal active combat zone, The Roses is your Super Bowl. We’ve seen the "perfect marriage collapses" trope a thousand times, but director Jay Roach and screenwriter Tony McNamara have updated the 1989 classic The War of the Roses for an era where status is measured in LinkedIn endorsements and the terrifying pressure of the "girlboss" trajectory. It’s a comedy that starts with a paper cut and ends with a sledgehammer, and I loved every agonizing second of it.

I actually watched this on a Tuesday night while wearing a pair of compression socks that were slightly too tight, and honestly, that low-level physical discomfort was the perfect sensory pairing for the escalating domestic dread on screen.

The McNamara Sting

What makes this film more than just a glossy remake is the DNA of its writer. Tony McNamara, the mind behind The Favourite and Poor Things, doesn't do "nice" dialogue. He writes sentences that feel like they were dipped in acid before being fired out of a blowgun. When Olivia Colman (playing Ivy Rose) looks at her husband with a mixture of pity and genuine loathing, you don't just see a marriage ending—you see a structural collapse.

Colman is, as expected, a powerhouse. She plays Ivy with a terrifyingly calm ambition. As her career as a high-end landscape architect takes off, she stops pretending that she needs Theo’s validation, and that’s where the real horror begins. It’s a performance that captures that specific contemporary anxiety: the moment one partner realizes they’ve outgrown the other and decides they’re done playing the "supportive spouse" role in a mid-level life.

Domestic Warfare for the LinkedIn Generation

Benedict Cumberbatch plays Theo Rose, and I’m going to go out on a limb here: Cumberbatch is at his absolute best when he’s playing a pathetic loser who desperately thinks he’s a genius. His Theo is a man whose career is in a tailspin, and rather than reaching for a parachute, he decides to set the plane on fire so Ivy can’t land it either. The chemistry between the two isn’t romantic; it’s radioactive. They trade barbs about property value and parenting with the kind of precision usually reserved for fencing matches.

The film leans heavily into our current moment of "Succession-core" aesthetics—lots of beige linen, cold marble kitchens, and the kind of wealth that looks like it should be comfortable but feels like a museum. Jay Roach, who usually plays things a bit broader (think Meet the Parents), shows a surprising amount of restraint here. He lets the camera linger on the silence between the couple, making the eventual explosions of violence—both verbal and physical—feel earned rather than slapstick.

Supporting Saboteurs

While the central duo is the main draw, the supporting cast keeps the movie from becoming too claustrophobic. Ncuti Gatwa is a standout as Jeffrey, the lawyer caught in the middle who seems to be the only person aware that he’s trapped in a Shakespearean tragedy. Then there’s Andy Samberg and Kate McKinnon, who play a rival couple. Their inclusion initially felt like it might lean too far into SNL territory, but they serve as a brilliant, slightly distorted mirror to the Roses. They are what Ivy and Theo were five years ago—happy, performative, and utterly oblivious to the rot setting in.

The film also benefits from not being a "streaming dump." While Searchlight Pictures is owned by Disney, they gave this a genuine theatrical window, and you can feel the "big screen" intention in Florian Hoffmeister’s cinematography. The Rose estate is a character in itself, and watching it get slowly dismantled—both literally and figuratively—requires the scale of a cinema screen to appreciate the petty detail of the destruction.

A Modern Relic

There’s a conversation to be had about why The Roses didn't absolutely dominate the box office. With a $30 million budget, its $51 million return is respectable but not a "runaway hit." In an era dominated by capes and legacy sequels, a mean-spirited, R-rated comedy about the death of a marriage is a tough sell for the "four-quadrant" audience. It’s the kind of movie that risks being swallowed by the "recommended for you" algorithm on a streaming homepage three months from now.

However, I suspect this is going to be one of those films that people "discover" on a plane or a random Friday night and then immediately text their friends about. It captures the petty, competitive spirit of 2025 in a way that feels uncomfortably honest. It’s a movie that asks: "If your life looked perfect on Instagram but was a dumpster fire in reality, which one would you fight harder to save?" The answer the Roses give is as hilarious as it is horrifying.

The Roses is a sharp, acidic reminder that nobody knows how to ruin your life quite like the person who helped you build it. It’s one of the few remakes that justifies its existence by swapping out the 80s excess for 2020s ego. If you’re in a happy relationship, it’s a great piece of fiction; if you’re currently arguing about whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher, it might be a psychological thriller. Either way, see it for Colman and Cumberbatch's scorched-earth performances. ---