The Roses – Film Review

Satirical black comedies about marriage, love, and the thin line between passion and destruction have always had a sharp cultural appeal. The latest entry into this tradition, The Roses, directed by Jay Roach and penned by Tony McNamara, is both a remake and a reimagining. Based on Warren Adler’s 1981 novel The War of the Roses and following in the shadow of the acclaimed 1989 film adaptation, Roach’s version arrives with a distinctly modern flavor and a star-studded cast including Benedict Cumberbatch, Olivia Colman, Andy Samberg, Kate McKinnon, and Allison Janney.

While the talent is undeniable and McNamara’s screenplay carries his signature satirical sting, The Roses never quite finds a rhythm that makes its satire land with consistent precision. What should have been a viciously funny, devastating portrait of a marriage in flames instead settles into uneven territory—half sharp, half broad, and frequently at odds with itself. The result is a film that entertains in spurts but doesn’t leave much of a lasting mark.

This is a story of ambition, resentment, and domestic implosion. Theo Rose (Cumberbatch), a brilliant but insecure architect, meets Ivy (Colman), a determined chef with dreams of building a culinary empire. Their whirlwind romance soon becomes a marriage, complete with children, careers, and dreams of success. But as time goes on, the dynamic shifts. Ivy’s star begins to rise in the culinary world while Theo’s architectural ambitions stumble, creating a festering imbalance of power, pride, and insecurity.

The more successful Ivy becomes, the more Theo bristles, and the couple’s marital home transforms into a battlefield. What begins as passive-aggressive bickering escalates into all-out war—psychological, emotional, and even physical. Lawyers, friends, and family get caught in the crossfire, while their children find themselves witnessing the slow, surreal collapse of their parents’ relationship.

On paper, it’s fertile ground for both comedy and tragedy, but The Roses often wavers between tones. Unlike the razor-sharp balance of comedy and cruelty found in the 1989 version, Roach and McNamara’s update struggles to decide whether it wants to be a biting satire on marriage or a heightened farce.

If The Roses works at all, it’s because of its leads. Olivia Colman delivers another outstanding performance, embodying Ivy with warmth, wit, and steely determination. She has the rare ability to make her character simultaneously sympathetic and terrifying, balancing vulnerability with ferocity. Watching her shift from devoted wife to embattled adversary is both compelling and heartbreaking.

Benedict Cumberbatch, meanwhile, leans into Theo’s brittle pride and controlling tendencies with conviction. His clipped delivery and simmering frustration bring out the character’s pettiness, but he also injects enough humanity to make Theo more than a caricature. Together, Cumberbatch and Colman create a dynamic that is electric in its volatility. Their chemistry fuels the film’s most engaging moments, even when the script wavers.

The supporting cast provides mixed results. Andy Samberg, as a well-meaning but hapless friend, adds comic levity but occasionally feels like he’s in a different movie altogether, veering toward sitcom humor rather than dark satire. Kate McKinnon fares better, playing Ivy’s sharp-tongued confidante with a mix of absurdity and bite that matches the script’s satirical tone. Allison Janney, in a smaller role as a counselor figure, brings her usual gravitas but isn’t given much to do beyond delivering acerbic observations.

Jay Roach has proven himself adept at political satire (Trumbo, Bombshell) and broad comedies (Meet the Parents), but The Roses occupies an uneasy middle ground between those modes. The film occasionally crackles with acidic wit, but more often than not, it veers into cartoonish exaggeration. The tonal shifts can be jarring: one moment the film is lampooning gender dynamics and marital expectations, and the next it leans into slapstick destruction played almost too broadly.

McNamara’s screenplay carries his trademark sardonic wit, familiar from The Favourite and Poor Things. His dialogue is sharp and clever, full of barbed exchanges that highlight the absurdity of modern relationships. However, his writing style sometimes clashes with Roach’s direction, which prefers a more mainstream comedic sensibility. This tension results in a film that never quite settles on its identity.

From sleek London restaurants to Ivy’s bustling kitchens to the grand home that becomes the couple’s war zone, the production design cleverly reflects the characters’ shifting fortunes. The home, in particular, evolves into a character of its own, a symbol of ambition, pride, and possession.

Roach and cinematographer Florian Hoffmeister shoot the escalating chaos with flair, leaning into sharp contrasts between elegant surfaces and violent breakdowns. However, the staging of some of the more destructive sequences feels overly choreographed, undercutting their impact. What should feel shocking or exhilarating often comes across as theatrical, as if the film is afraid to fully embrace the ugliness at its core.

At its best, The Roses captures the destructive potential of unchecked ambition and resentment within a marriage. It satirizes the way love, once soured, can turn into a competition where each partner would rather destroy everything than let the other “win.” Ivy and Theo’s downfall reflects not just personal failings but also broader societal pressures—gender expectations, professional envy, and the ways success can warp intimacy.

But while the themes are potent, the execution falters. The satire feels uneven, biting in some scenes and strangely toothless in others. The film raises incisive questions about marriage as both a romantic ideal and a contractual cage, but it doesn’t probe as deeply as it could.

The Roses is a curious film—ambitious, stylish, and bolstered by excellent performances from Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman, but hobbled by tonal inconsistency and a lack of true bite. Jay Roach’s direction seems caught between two instincts: to deliver a scathing black comedy and to create a broadly accessible marital farce. In trying to do both, the film does neither fully successfully.

Fans of darkly comic marital dramas may find enough here to justify a watch, particularly for the performances, but compared to both the source novel and the 1989 film, this remake feels like a step backward. It entertains in patches but never fully coheres, leaving its satire dulled and its impact softened.