After Ashley asks for a divorce, good-natured Carey runs to his friends, Julie and Paul, for support. He’s shocked to discover that the secret to their happiness is an open marriage, that is until Carey crosses the line and throws all of their relationships into chaos.
Michael Angelo Covino, Kyle Marvin, Adria Arjona, and Dakota Johnson in Splitsville. Photograph: AP.The film’s tricky balance between farce and sincerity teeters too precipitously in the final two acts, and one development in particular strains credulity, though it allows for time to pass before the musical chairs begin again. That Splitsville stays on track to the finish is mostly credit to chemistry – that ineffable, unpredictable thing between two, or three, or maybe four people, with just enough variation for each relationship here.
Michael Angelo Covino’s “Splitsville” sets its tone from its first scene, as a sexually charged encounter between Carey (Kyle Marvin) and his wife Ashley (Adria Arjona) goes sideways, resulting in both a possible death and a visual dick joke.Still, Covino and Marvin often allow their characters to be the butt of the joke, rather than suave leading men. Marvin is instantly likable, while Covino’s Paul is a bit abrasive to start. But he softens as his world falls apart, discovering that he doesn’t want an open marriage if it’s his BFF who enters.
