From A24:
Joe and Angela’s marriage is on thin ice. When they invite their enigmatic upstairs neighbors for a dinner party, the night spirals into unexpected places. Have they reignited the spark or lit the match that burns it all down?
In the mid-1960s, there began a film movement in the wake of the fall of the studio system that actively sought to upheave traditional filmmaking norms. With the death of the Hays Code – an arbitrary censorship ruling that affected Hollywood filmmaking for over 3 decades – and big-budget studio musicals that once buttressed the economy of the film industry consistently underperforming, up-and-coming young filmmakers (and their ambitions) had a chance to shine. The filmmaker-focused New Hollywood era, which lasted roughly until the indie boom of the late 80s and early 90s, ushered in some of America’s most legendary white directors (Scorsese, Cassavetes, Coppola, Nichols, etc.) and brought about many now-foundational hyper-realistic storytelling techniques and various technical innovations.
One of the defining films of the early New Hollywood era was the 1969 Paul Mazursky comedy Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, which follows two couples (played by Robert Culp, Natalie Wood, Elliott Gould, and Dyan Cannon, respectively), both struggling with fidelity, who, while on a trip to Las Vegas to see Tony Bennett, consider… having fun as a group. The Academy-Award- nominated sex-positive film dissects what marriage looks like in a then-modern context and was a cultural lynchpin for the sexually liberated Seventies. Olivia Wilde’s third feature, The Invite, might be a remake of a 2020 Spanish film, but while viewing, I was only ever reminded of Mazursky’s film and what it meant for the future of Hollywood.
A24’s new comedy The Invite follows Joe and Angela (Seth Rogen and Olivia Wilde), a couple whose marriage is on the rocks. After a long day of teaching, Joe returns home to find his wife over-excitedly preparing for guests he didn’t know about, their upstairs neighbors, the free-spirited, sexually active Hawk and Pína (Edward Norton and Penélope Cruz). The guests arrive amidst confrontation - which they love - and cause a stir but shift the entire dynamic of the evening once (exciting) details of their private life are revealed and propositions are made.
Predicting the very-obvious situation doesn’t taint the film, it just puts much stronger pressure on the film and its characters to provide an exciting, interesting experience. Luckily, Wilde (whose first film, Booksmart, is an all-time favorite of mine) and co-writers Will McCormack and Rashida Jones have crafted four of the strongest characters from a film this year and have turned in one of the funniest movies, if not the funniest, of the year so far.
I like that the couples are jealous of each other, because it forces the couples to be their own characters just as much as they all are individually. Rogen’s Joe is tantalized by Cruz’ Pína and annoyed, yet emasculated by Norton’s Hawk, while Wilde’s Angela is tantalized by Hawk and envious of Pína. However, Joe and Angela, as a couple, feel embarrassed, and in some ways, threatened by Hawk and Pína, as a couple. I could analyze it the other way as well, noting the curiosity that Hawk and Pína have about Joe and Angela, but my point is this: all is understood through dialogue and behavior. From a writing standpoint, it’s a bit masterful, because there is no point in this film where I don’t actively understand every single dynamic present in this story.
As I mentioned, this is an English-language remake of the Spanish 2020 film The People Upstairs, so some credit must go to the original writers, but this version of these characters is incredibly strong.
I also appreciate how every character is being tested throughout the film. The initial invite of the upstairs neighbors to downstairs is its own test of boundaries for the clearly closed-off couple, but the story becomes a test of boundaries in all kinds of ways. Rogen’s Joe has his conversational skills and general comfortability tested by the effortlessly engrossing Hawk, while Angela has her sexuality tested by the sensual Pína, but Hawk and Pína’s openness is tested, individually by both Joe and Angela, because they represent a kind of relationship they’ve never had themselves.
As much as this film is a writing triumph, The Invite also succeeds in large part due to the performances from its four leads. I was worried about the chemistry these four actors would have with one another, but Wilde’s anxious Angela is a great counter to Rogen’s cynical Joe, and Norton and Cruz play off each other similarly well.
As someone who thinks Edward Norton is a weirdo, his character was perfectly cast. Props to the casting director for finding the guy in Hollywood who looks the most into *******. Cruz and her blonde wig fit the seductress role like a glove, as her classic sex appeal picks up the slack left behind by the markedly less sexy Norton and Rogen. It’s always good to see my Spanish mother.
For Rogen, though, this might be the strongest performance I’ve seen from him, who plays his easily aggravated, yet perpetually unsure Joe hilariously. An important, extended sequence (a still from which may or may not be on the poster) showcases not only sharply written, excellent on-screen bickering between Rogen and Wilde’s characters, but a strong handle from Wilde on how to direct (and edit) a four-way conversation. It landed, for me, as one of the film’s most exciting sequences, which is remarkable considering the four characters were seated the entire time.
There is argument in the air now that the hectic political climate of this country and the declining state of the film industry might contribute to some of the best art produced from the US since the New Hollywood era for the same reason that art from then was so revered. The broken state of the world might create the perfect space for new filmmakers with new ideas, ideals, and techniques to shine (see: Backrooms and Obsession success). The Invite was not made by young, former Youtubers, nor was it made by industry newcomers, but it is a character-focused film about modern relationships and modern decisions.
Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice was such a moment in the late 60s because few mainstream films were as honest about sexual desire outside the bounds of “normalcy” as it was. Unfortunately for The Invite, this country is much more comfortable with itself sexually than it was at that point, so the film doesn’t come off as transgressive as it thinks it does, but it has more of a chance than most films to provoke that kind of push, as it finds itself among early, new pioneers. It represents a revival of the old "new" style amidst the advent of the new "new" style, and it's coming out at the right time. The strong word-of-mouth from Sundance was a good sign. Maybe if straight people realize that they can have good sex too, they’ll get off our back (finally).
Viewed on 6/3/26 at press screening
Published on 6/21/26