Couples Therapy: “The Roses”

Someone out there is spending tons of money publicizing the new British film, The Roses. It was the feature attraction, over Labor Day weekend, at the very popular Century City Mall, and I’ve spotted  elaborate merchandising attempts at my supermarket. Here’s the question: is the film worth all that attention? It’s gorgeous to look at, with Australia’s dramatic sea coast filling in (alas) for Northern California. There’s a opening credit sequence that’s a delight. And the film stars two of Britain’s finest, Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman, as loving spouses who can’t quite adjust to a change in their marital circumstances. Both are lively presences who have a talent for dishing out nasty quips at one another’s expense.

 Moviegoers with long memories (or subscriptions to Amazon Prime) might recall that The War of the Roses, a cleverly-titled novel by Warren Adler, was made into a 1989 battle-of-the-sexes film starring Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as marital sparring partners. The highly popular black comedy was cleverly directed by Danny DeVito, who also cast himself as a chain-smoking divorce attorney. Serving as narrator, DeVito takes the viewer back to the meeting of Douglas (as Oliver) and Turner (as Barbara) at an auction for high-end collectibles. Both have a passion for home design (and a special yen for English ceramics), so when they marry and nest in a mansion, décor is very much on their minds. Ultimately, alas, the bloom is off the Roses, and Barbara demands a divorce. Moreover, she demands full custody of their dream house, something Oliver would never willingly grant. Soon nothing—and no one—is safe, including the household pets and Oliver’s prized sportscar. It all builds to a grim conclusion that is a hoot if you enjoy seeing things go smash.

 I’m not sure The War of the Roses has much of a point to make (outside of this: never run over your spouse’s cat). But it’s an uproarious exploration of people at their worst, and we can all use a good bitter laugh from time to time. By contrast, the new British film, The Roses, seems determined to be about something. More precisely, it seems to want to put its finger on how marriages go sour, and when precisely this happens. Theo and Ivy Rose are an English couple who share a snarky sensibility. They’ve moved to Northern California to pursue their creative passions. Theo is a trained architect with a taste for the ultra-modern. Ivy is a chef who has put her professional aspirations aside while raising two children, until Theo buys her a hole-in-the-wall diner she promptly renames “We’ve Got Crabs.” As it turns out, the same natural disaster that scuttles his newest and most innovative design proves to be a boon to her little café. So she’s suddenly famous, and he’s out of work.

 The film then becomes a study of what happens to a marriage in which one partner is thriving professionally while the other is put out to pasture. (I’m certain matters are all the worse because it’s the formerly stay-at-home wife who’s suddenly the Next Big Thing.) The topic is definitely a pertinent one, but this film seems determined to cover lots of territory by bringing in additional plot strands. There are many new characters (the rather baffling children, the horny best friend, the doofus buddy, the sinister attorney) to distract from the central his-and-hers conflict. The irony of the conclusion is well handled, with a nice jab at the “smart house” Theo has designed, but well before that point I was tired indeed of the couple’s overblown spat.