Film Review – The Invite
The Invite
After the psychological mystery/thriller that was Don’t Worry Darling (2022), Olivia Wilde’s immediate directorial follow up – The Invite (2026) – takes a complete 180-degree turn. Where the former was a big, expansive undertaking, this latest release is a small, intimate chamber piece taking place entirely within a single apartment. However, despite its stripped-down aesthetics, Wilde is in far more control here. This is easily her best work behind the camera and one of her best acting performances in quite some time. It is a hilarious and penetrating examination of marriage, relationships, desires, regrets, trust, and sex – and how each of those elements change as time passes. It is insightful yet silly, serious without being melodramatic. It balances big laughs with legitimate, thought-provoking themes. This is one of the best comedies of the year.
As a director, Wilde’s biggest strength is how she navigates the shifting dynamics of her characters. This approach was on display in Booksmart (2019), but less so in Don’t Worry Darling. The Invite is the best example of this so far. The confined, almost stage like space allows her to run with the characters at full speed. Written by Will McCormack and Rashida Jones (adapting the 2020 Spanish film, The People Upstairs), the story centers around a married couple – Joe (Seth Rogen) and Angela (Wilde) – who invite their upstairs neighbors Hawk (Edward Norton) and Piña (Penélope Cruz) to their home for a dinner party. Almost immediately, things don’t go according to plan. What unfolds is a screwball comedy in which hidden resentments and surprise revelations toss the couples into a tailspin. Whether they make it to the end of the night with their sanities intact is left to be seen.

The writing, direction, and performances define each of the characters with pinpoint clarity. Joe and Angela operate as our main protagonists. From the beginning we see their marriage at a crossroads. What was once young romanticism has become years’ worth of passive aggressiveness, unrealized potential, and a feeling that they have underachieved in life. Joe was once a promising musician but ended up a professor at a little-known music conservatory. Angela has talent as an artist but put that aside to be a wife and mother. They fight over insignificant details and walk around carrying stress in their shoulders. Things like getting wine for the dinner or what to wear become arguments of epic proportions. The only thing they still connect with is their daughter (who was sent to a sleepover with a friend). Hawk and Piña are the force that disrupts Joe and Angela’s state of being. Their worldliness, passions for one another, and open mindedness impresses Angela but annoys Joe. The night becomes a collision of these varying personalities.
How the four operate off one another is what makes The Invite so funny. Rogen, Wilde, Cruz, and Norton bring their A games, bouncing in and around the dialogue as though they were playing hot potato. They talk to and over one another, creating an avalanche of words that feel both written and improvised. Some of the best exchanges feature one couple asking the other about themselves only for the other couple to stumble and contradict their responses. It’s as though they are speaking before thinking. Everything from antique rugs, to Hawk being a fireman (excuse me, firefighter), to Joe and Angela constantly hearing Hawk and Piña make love in the apartment above them – the entire night becomes an escalating series of awkward exchanges. Of course, this all comes to a breaking point, where the couples come to some tough truths about their relationships.
Wilde makes great use of the limited space. With cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra and editors Anthony Boys and Yorgos Mavropsaridis, Wilde divides sections of Joe and Angela’s apartment to reflect their growing division. Sometimes it’s represented with mirrors, in the way one person will be in view while the other is shown through a reflection. Or they will be framed within doorways, between windowpanes, or calling out to one another from separate rooms. As the night wears on and the tension escalates, the camera glides between bedrooms and hallways like an omniscient specter, witnessing the hijinks as the couples interact – sometimes altogether, other times in pairs. The shot selection slyly implies ideas without outright pointing them out. When Angela kneels by the oven to explain to Joe how hard she worked to prepare dinner, we quickly interpret that her frustrations go far beyond that night just by the way she is positioned within the camera frame.

Throughout the runtime, The Invite works because of how it manages to stay grounded even when things get extreme. The thoughts and emotions between the four characters feel like they come from genuine places within their souls. It’s this ability to keep things anchored that leads to the funniest moments, because we can empathize with each person despite how outlandish things get. It’s like watching a balloon slowly get inflated, anticipating when it will pop. However, this also explains why, when the narrative switches gears tonally in the third act, it ends up being the least successful section. We are on a highwire for such a long period, that when Wilde dials things down for a more serious, dramatic mood, it isn’t as impactful. Granted, she ends on a terrific closing shot that leaves an opening for all kinds of interpretation. But after keeping things at a fever pitch, landing the film on a downbeat seems inconsistent with everything that came before.
Still, that minor issue isn’t enough to derail such an entertaining romp. The Invite is equal parts hilarity and smarts – giving us plenty to think about even when we are laughing out loud. The actors are perfect in their respective parts, and Olivia Wilde has developed a cinematic voice that fits this material like a glove. Best of all, the film doesn’t necessarily choose a side when it comes to marriage, relationships, or love. Yes, being together with someone is tough work that requires communication and effort. But the narrative doesn’t condemn it as useless folly. Instead, it examines both sides of the coin, going through the pros and cons and leaving us to decide where we feel best suited. It never lectures us about its themes. Instead, it places us in the shoes of the characters and asks how we would react if we were in the same position. It doesn’t just put on a great show but has us participate as well – that is the mark of a truly memorable film.
