‘Splitsville’ Review: A Hilarious, Beautifully Shot Tale of Modern Love [Cannes]

Here’s a film playing at Cannes that’s not been getting nearly enough attention, but it’ll be worth seeking out when it gets released later this year.

Michael Angelo Covino’s “Splitsville,” playing out of competition, has been getting some well-deserved positive ink from critics, including Deadline, THR, and IndieWire.

This is a film that sneaks up on you. What begins as a quiet unraveling of a marriage evolves into something far more nuanced, funny, and tender. It’s only his second feature, following “The Climb,” but it’s clear that Covino hasn’t just grown more confident—he’s grown more curious.

The film opens with Carey (Kyle Marvin), blindsided by a divorce request from his wife, Ashley (Adria Arjona). He turns, dazed and uncertain, to his longtime friends Julie (Dakota Johnson) and Paul (Covino himself), only to find their seemingly stable relationship is built on the shifting sands of an open marriage. What follows isn’t a broad comedy or a melodrama, but something in between: a visually intelligent comedy about what it means to love—and to be lost—in the modern age.

“Splitsville” is, above all, a film that looks like a film. Shot entirely on 35mm, its textured visuals lend the story a richness that digital often lacks. Covino favors plenty of long takes, patient blocking, and a camera that moves with the rhythm of its characters.

Once Paul misguidingly reveals to Carey that he slept with Ashley, an over the top fight scene—absurd, hilarious— emerges that plays like a Buster Keaton bit reimagined through the lens of emotional desperation. It’s one of the best comedic set pieces in recent memory.

Like “The Climb,” this film is as much about friendship as it is about romance. The chemistry between Marvin and Covino is as effortless as ever, grounded in years of collaboration. Arjona, coming off “Hit Man,” brings a quiet complexity to Ashley, never letting the character become a symbol or a villain. And Johnson, whom I adore, with her dry wit and understated charm, once again proves she can command the screen.

What makes “Splitsville” linger, though, is its refusal to pass judgment. Open relationships, emotional misfires, hidden insecurities—it presents them not as punchlines or cautionary tales, but as human conditions.

Covino and Marvin have made a film that balances the comedic with the profound, the visually daring with the emotionally grounded. In “Splitsville,” they aren’t just telling a story. They’re inviting us to look a little closer—to laugh, yes, but also to feel.