Olivia Wilde – The Magnificent 60s

Not so much a gabfest as an outbreak of verbal diarrhea. This exceedingly slim offering is what passes these days for the kind of movie that might be appreciated by an intelligent audience or served up as counter-programming to the onslaught of the summer blockbuster.

But it’s as if the idea of marriages in trouble is novel, never been properly examined until the current new wave came along – for some reason Alan Parker’s Shoot the Moon (1982) with Albert Finney and Diane Keaton as the warring couple came to mind as an example of how easily this subject had been dealt with in the past without the necessity for coming at it all coy.

Everyone rabbits on at forty words to the dozen, talking over each other, repeating themselves as if the notion of editing had never occurred to anyone so that it ends up as a stagey four-hander, not far I would imagine from the stage play on which it is based.

And it has one of the most infuriating scores I have ever come across. I’m sure it’s intended as post-ironic or some such. Instead of allowing the words to speak for themselves the dialog is heavily overlaid with ominous music whose intensity is heightened as emotions rise.

Worse, this is primarily a shaggy dog story and a good bit of bait-and-switch, allowing the characters (Shock! Horror!) to utter such words as “double penetration” and “pegging” (Google them) – all of which sexual preferences are laboriously explained to married apparent innocents Joe (Seth Rogan) and Angela (Olivia Wilde) by more worldly pair Pina (Penelope Cruz) and Hawk (Edward Norton).

The invite in question is to join in a sex party, to turn the stuffed shirts into swingers. Olivia is jealous of the orgasms she can hear from Pina who lives upstairs in a weird apartment block where despite each couple living above or below the other they can still, by quirk of narrative or architecture, see each other through the window (go figure) which comes in handy if one of the couples is a secret exhibitionist and the other a voyeur.

Our foursome represent little more than standard cliches – stoner Joe and his neurotic wife who has to tidy up the kitchen before embarking on sex, the supposed charmer Hawk and the more obviously sexy Pina who is not averse to bursting out of her cleavage. There are jokes about exhibitionism and about Hawk not being musclebound enough to be a firefighter.

There are about ten worthwhile minutes in the entire picture when the characters properly open up, though Joe revealing himself as a failure, Angela as a self-centered stay-at-home mum with artistic ambitions she cannot be bothered to properly explore, and Hawk as not as tough as he seems, is not enough to prop up the rest of the picture.

For a comedy, even a purportedly sophisticated one what with all this talk about sex, it’s remarkably light of the laff front and in any case any opportunity for the audience to even snigger is seriously jeopardized by having a director (Olivia Wilde) with no sense of comic timing, barely leaving a millisecond between lines that could elicit a laugh, guaranteeing that nothing has the opportunity to strike home.

I’m no big fan of Seth Rogen (Good Fortune, 2025) since as far as I can tell he always plays the same character but at least he’s not as mealy-mouthed as the others. But when you rely on tantrums to inject some life into a picture you’re on a hiding to nothing.

I can see why this has received generally good reviews. It’s the critics’ job to push in front of audiences a discerning movie or two, but, as often as not, they are so determined to prod the audience that they nudge them towards movies that barely deserve the praise.

Edward Norton (A Complete Unknown, 2024) has been confined to small parts of late so it’s good to see him last out a full film. Penelope Cruz (Ferrari, 2023) offers more emotion, sass and psychology than the others. Olivia Wilde (Babylon, 2022) overacts like crazy.

In her capacity as director, count this as another misfire for Olivia Wilde (Don’t Worry, Darling, 2022). Will McCormack (Toy Story 4, 2019) and Rashida Jones (On the Rocks, 2020) adapted the play by Cesca Gay.

This had an old-fashioned platform release in the U.S., which meant it could rack up decent averages by only being shown in a handful of cinemas, allowing marketeers to dupe the media into thinking it was a hit.

Steer clear.

Rejoice: a star is born. But it’s not Florence Pugh (Black Widow, 2021). It’s my habit going to the cinema to sit close to the screen in order to avoid the audience. This time I couldn’t help but noticing the streams of young women, often in large groups taking up an entire row. Out of curiosity, I chatted to quite a few at the end, imagining they might be turning up to support director Olivia Wilde’s new picture. Nope, they were here to see Harry Styles (Dunkirk, 2017). That’s what you call star power.

And he certainly has something. A screen charisma, an electricity, and without going too overboard, something akin to the danger of an early Michael Caine or Sean Connery, other British exports. When he was in a scene, it was easy to forget Florence Pugh. You knew what she’d be doing, emoting like crazy, but he was unpredictable, exactly what the camera adores.

Anyway, what we have here is a throwback, a slow-burn paranoia thriller in The Stepford Wives utopia vein with a dystopian twist. But the ending is a let-down, the kind of baffling logic Christopher Nolan often gets away with, and a rather worn trope of male supremacy.

Happily married couple, still going at sex like rabbits, Alice (Florence Pugh) and Jack (Harry Styles) live in a stylized isolated 1950s community where husbands depart for work every morning and wives stay home to do the housework or endlessly shop and gossip. Every need, basic or more luxurious, is taken care of. The men are employed by the mysterious Victory Project, run by the charismatic and fun-loving Frank (Chris Pine), and beyond their housing estate is a forbidden zone.

But strange images keep zapping into Alice’s head. Eggs crumble into nothing and wrapping Saran Wrap/clingfilm round her mouth is not an acceptable lifestyle choice and when the suicide of neighbor Margaret (Kiki Layne) is denied, and she sees a plane crash into the hills, she decides to investigate. Exactly what she discovers we are never told, but her behavior becomes more paranoid, and men in red overalls are likely to scamper out of the woodwork at the hint of any threat along with a bogus psychiatrist only too keen to prescribe pills.

And although it turns out Jack is willing to try his hand at cooking, Alice is jeopardizing their relationship and without the cunning to outwit the devious Frank.

From the outset you were waiting for this fantasy to unravel, although Alice was a shade too overcooked too quickly, and there was no explanation for some of her terrors, being trapped by a sheet of glass for example, and the ending will far from satisfy. But I found the movie suspenseful overall, enough doubt sown to seed the growing tension, the characters by and large well-drawn, otherwise confident men kept insecure by jostling for recognition from boss Frank, and the playfulness occasionally teetering into the acceptably hedonistic.

However, once Alice got the bit between her teeth, there was too much teeth, flaring nostrils and general over-acting. The cooler Frank achieved more with very little.

Generally, though, quite enjoyable, although if director Olivia Wilde (Booksmart, 2019) intended making wider feminist comment, it’s too facile by far. The something that doesn’t add up emanates from the storyline for otherwise the picture is pretty well done, including a car chase and the sinuously sneaky Frank controlling and destroying lives.

As I said, I felt Florence Pugh was too over-heated but she was also let down by a screenplay by Katie Silberman (Booksmart) that failed to come up with any real answers. Harry Styles stole every scene he was in and Chris Pine (Wonder Woman, 2017), playing against heroic type, was excellent. Although there has been criticism of Styles’ performance, bear in mind that screen stardom has been built on less and it would give the industry a shot in the arm if a new star came out of nowhere. The women I encountered in the audience would certainly agree with giving him a bigger role.

From opening week box office, this looks as if it will do well enough to sustain Olivia Wilde’s career, as here her confident direction and visual skill proves she can handle a bigger budget.

Tag: Olivia Wilde

The Invite (2026) ** – Seen at the Cinema

Don’t Worry Darling (2022) *** – Seen at the Cinema