The Invite: Olivia Wilde’s Brilliant Comeback

Finding new friends in adulthood is difficult; for many, their longest friendships are with their romantic partners, and yet, without other friends, the burden of relying solely on each other can break down open communication and, with it, trust and stability. Something needs to give. What’s the cure for complacency? Director Olivia Wilde asks the question with The Invite, a delightful and hilarious recalibration after her disappointing outing ‘Don’t Worry Darling‘—a film that became better known for its disastrous behind-the-scenes reputation.

Both films explore the ways which women distort themselves to fit into the roles that men and society set for them, yet, while The Invite revisits many of the same themes displayed in Wilde’s previous effort, it benefits from years of clarity and the long exhale of someone finally ready to laugh about it all. Beginning with an Oscar Wilde quote (her stage-name namesake), the film proudly stands as Olivia Wilde’s most personal and mature film yet: a slightly predictable emotional ride in need of restraint that still manages to stick the landing with a showcase of stellar filmmaking, strong performances, intelligent dark humour, and a deceptively ambiguous ending.

The film sets the stage with Joe (Rogen) sitting disinterested in the empty seats of an auditorium as an orchestra of college students rehearses for him. At home, he lives in a beautiful San Francisco apartment inherited from his parents, which his wife Angela (Wilde) maintains in a state of permanent non-renovation. Upon arriving home, Angela informs him that Hawk (Norton) and Pína (Cruz), their upstairs neighbours—whom Joe hates due to their loud sex—are coming for dinner. Why? Angela and Joe don’t have any friends, and she told him about it yesterday. A simple premise, The Invite initially moves toward a family-gathering thriller in the vein of ‘Shiva Baby‘ or ‘The Humans‘, with sudden orchestral strikes from Devonté Hynes’ stellar score and quick-cutting that builds tension as Joe and Angela await Hawk and Pína, before eventually shifting into a more Woody Allen–inspired register as twists unravel.

Without undoing the surprise of the film, what The Invite is most successful at is poking at its protagonists; Wilde trusts that the audience isn’t viewing this scenario through one individual’s perspective, instead tapping into a duality that lets both sides breathe. The contrast between the two couples explores mature, progressive themes about relationships through the confidence of Hawk and Pína, while also poking fun at Joe and Angela navigating new territory with an inexperienced curiosity and giddiness akin to two teenagers discovering their friends drank a beer for the first time. The ending offers a similar ambiguity: one could see it as a comfortable step toward a better future, or a bittersweet acknowledgment of the concessions individuals make to sustain a relationship. At its core, what makes the film work, however, is how the ensemble sells it.

One quarter of the ensemble and starring for the first time in her own directed films, Wilde, an actress with under-recognized comedic chops due to her dramatic resume, shines better than she ever has as Angela, a role that is compelling precisely because of how unflattering it is in its relatability and earnestness, as a stay-at-home, capital-O oblivious tradwife who desperately means well. Coming off the heels of ‘The Studio‘ and ‘The Fabelmans,’ Rogen has long since proven his quietly great acting capabilities, with a soft, clumsy on-screen presence that carries through every role he takes—you always want to root for him, even when his characters are screwing up, and that remains the case with Joe. Norton, finally given the freedom to flex his rare comedic chops in full capacity, steals most of the scenes as Hawk, whose chill, silver-fox demeanour schmoozes its way through each room to Joe’s obvious irritation. Perhaps most compelling, though, is the film’s secret weapon in Cruz as Pína, delivering an effortlessly cool, sexy, and quietly magnetic performance as she subtly sizes up the rest of the cast.

The chemistry between the actors is fine-tuned to perfection as character is revealed through quiet reactions, changes in demeanour, and camera placement. Wilde’s strong blocking and constant requirement of characters to move between rooms create genuinely energetic, precise, and elegant visuals, turning the claustrophobic setting into something almost theatrical. It’s a shame, then, that both the script and direction eventually begin to struggle with the “less is more” philosophy. While certain emotional confrontations are to be expected in a film like this, the back-to-back-to-back-to-back nature of the final monologues brings much of the relationships’ subtext to the surface before stopping short of expanding any character growth. Likewise, an increasing reliance on certain angles to convey shifts in conversation begins to instill exhaustion and repetition. One could argue this is the point, but the film shines brightest when it isn’t putting on a “drama hat” or a “comedy hat,” instead allowing both to exist in tandem.

Stacked up against other great relationship films, The Invite surprisingly stops short of aiming to uncover any grand revelation about relationships; it is a meditation on divorce, friendship, loneliness, among other things, but it doesn’t seek to diagnose the problem. Some relationships deserve to end, but don’t. You can choose to continue life like this or not. Ultimately, The Invite works as a sharply observed relationship piece that finds its strength in performance, chemistry, and lived-in awkwardness, even if it occasionally over-explains what is already felt. It’s less a statement than a snapshot: funny, uncomfortable, and deeply human.

still courtesy of VVS Films

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J.A. Birney

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